by SJ Molloy
“Nearly, but you definitely have healing hands. It feels better already. Amazing, actually,” I confess, broadening the irrepressible smile curving my lips. A very content smile. Muscles which started off tense and taught have fallen lax under her expert hands.
She has my body humming with desire, igniting intense fervour in me I never knew existed, and I know the only way to satisfy it will be to make her mine. Every time her hands work the bottom of my back, I envisage lifting my hips up so she can curl those glorious fingers around my cock and stroke me real nice. Make me feel real good, but that is selfish. She makes me want to satisfy her, show her pleasure she has never imagined possible.
This woman should be worshipped like a goddess and made to feel amazingly good … luminous … incandescent because that what she is. Wonderfully glowing and brilliantly bright. I will fantasise of nothing else after today, of that I am sure.
Soft moans escape my lips, cheeks and jaw achy from smiling so widely, spine limbless, eyes heavy, rolling in my head. Christ, I have been touched by Mother Nature herself, blessed by spiritual divinity in the purist of form. Lexi.
The thought of sharing intimacy with this outstanding woman sears my insides and warms my heart so much I feel it ache. Ache for her. Ache to get high on her, under her, with her, and inside her. Inside her heart.
Time passes and I do not know how she has done it, but she has lolled my body into a drugged state of tranquil bliss, as if I am drowning in her intoxication, gasping for that very breath she has stolen from me, her every essence filling my lungs.
Her warm, sensual hands leave my skin when she leaves to write up her report at her desk. I want to leave her my number, but she seems shy and the chances of her calling me are highly unlikely … plus it is too cliché. Instead, I use my Caruso charm.
I find a card in my pocket and search a nearby shelf for a pen. I want to leave her a message she will not forget, as I will certainly not be forgetting this day any time soon. I will be making it my mission to get close to this woman.
Doc, you made my day.
Voi siete la più bella donna intrigante che abbia mai conosciuto – You are the most beautiful, intriguing woman I have ever met. X
I leave the card on the bed in the hope she finds it.
It has only been moments since I scorched my eyes over her beautiful face and body, admiring those luscious eyes, lips, and hourglass figure, but I cannot get back to her quick enough. The mere sight of her causes my breath to hitch in my throat once more.
My brow knits in the middle as she approaches her desk. I find her swallowing painkillers. She passes of an excuse about a headache. If only she would give me a chance. I could erase every bit of stress and tension from that pretty little head of hers. I hate to think of her in pain.
She gives me advice and recommends I take things gently, which stirs ironic laughter in me. If ever there was an appropriate word, that would be it. She has no idea how sexy and enticing it sounds rolling off her tongue. My heart, lips, tongue, and hands could touch her as delicately and gently as a fallen whisper if that is what this girl needs. Gentleness.
I plan to start gentle with her because her elegant poise, modest disposition, and sweet caring approach have set the standard for me. She is precious … like a goddamn fucking angel, and she should be taken care of with tender and gentle love. Special love. My love.
My papa seems to think I share his emotional sensitivity and the Caruso charm—the ability to romance the right woman and sweep her off her feet … he has no idea just how much I can adore the right woman and how far I am willing to lift her up with me.
My stomach balls into a fisted pang of unease when she tries to pass off treating me as a patient. I am sure this so called Mark is more than wonderful at his job, but he is not her, and I need this girl. I need this girl in my life more than I think I need my next breath.
Instant attraction.
Love at first sight.
Breath-stealer.
My angel?
Undoubtedly yes.
She is nervous. There is just something not sitting right. She is distracted with her phone, a look of reticence flitting cross those big russet eyes and a tense edge ticking in her facial muscles. I study her, take her in because I am worried that our time is nearly up today, and I want more stolen glances to marvel at her beauty.
I notice she does not wear any jewellery; a precious angel like this should be adorned in exquisite jewels. Only the finest. Not to take anything away from her beauty, because she shines and sparkles like a magnificent star with just with her breathtaking naturalness, but she should be spoiled in luxury. When she is mine I will insist on it.
My tongue passes over my teeth while my eyes scan her with obsessed fascination. She does not even wear a watch. The first thing I would do when I make this woman mine is buy her a watch—a reminder that life is short, to seize the moment—and make her feel how we could be together.
Timeless love.
I can show her love that I have never showed anyone before, and I am positively sure, with this girl, it will transcend all of time.
Taking aside that maybe she is a simple and plain girl, I twitch my jaw at the possibility that this woman has never been treated to anything exquisite before. It also gives me a sense of satisfaction coiling deep inside me. It is another indication that hopefully she may not be spoken for, because any decent man would cherish a woman like this and drape her in diamonds. I certainly will.
The one and only time I have ever bought diamonds for a woman, I asked Suzanne to pick a feminine gift for me at short notice. The gift for Jasmine was meant as a thank you between friends and not intended as an act of love, charm or romance. But that is not to say it cannot be.
I did not even see the diamond earrings before the box was delivered to my suite on the night of the charity gala dinner in Edinburgh. Suzanne had a budget to work with and picked what she thought any woman would appreciate.
Diamond earrings.
Jasmine.
One small little gemstone left behind shining in the centre of my palm.
A reminder of how she helped me. How she saved me from my insecurities, and how she reminded me I had a future ahead of me. That I am a man. All man and on gut instinct … I can be that man to Lexi … this heart-stopping woman.
My stomach tugs with nostalgia—a twist of endless regret, shattered hopes, devastating tragedy and a torturous reminder of how I failed. I failed to protect a woman who was a dear friend, who should have had a bright future ahead of her. I failed to save her. I watched the blood run from her head and her eyes glass over. Fate stripped her from my life just as quick as she entered it.
Jasmine was not my breath-stealer, love at first sight, or instant attraction, but she did deserve a fighting chance at life. I never got to make her promises or be honest with her. I never got a chance to consider if we would work together. I never worshipped her or cherished her, and most of all I fucked up. I let her walk away from the hotel and into the brutal events on the morning of her fatal death. I could not save her.
I am not about to let this intriguing woman, sweet beautiful Lexi, walk away from me. I run my fingers through my hair, thinking fast. Before I know it, I raise the timbre in my voice to a level full of promise, hope, confidence, and optimism while I ask her out to dinner.
The feeling of regret has seared my soul for a long time, and it is time for me to move on and do the right thing. Take my papa’s advice and stop being a useless fucking asshole. I need to be a better man and take care of someone the way a Caruso man should. It might just make me happy and whole. I hope it will, because that is what I need. To be complete.
If the little temptress does not go and blow me off. I hit her with my perseverance, but she is only becoming more withdrawn. I guess whatever message she read on her phone has sent her off kilter and is playing on her mind, or she does not like my determination. Lowering my voice to a soft and sympathetic cadence, I ask her why she
will not agree to go out with me.
I admire that she wants to be professional in her position, but I have given her a solution. It makes me wonder if she is intimidated because she knows I own the club. I agree to see Mark instead, much against my will, but she has worries about seeing a patient. It is only fair I compromise.
Yet it is still not enough for this woman. That is when a sense of devotion sparks inside of me. I will give this girl anything she ever needs and everything she does not need … just to have her. When enough will never be enough.
Brushing me off, she stands tersely. My heart speeds up, blood pounds, and my Caruso charm snaps into effect. There is no way in hell, I am letting this flawless little beauty forget me in a hurry.
Staring at the bow of her lips, I imagine dragging those plump, glossy lips through my teeth. I can almost feel the press of those luscious thick lips branding mine, biting and claiming forever. Swallowing slowly, I envision the sweet taste of her tongue dancing with mine as my mind imagines what it will feel like making love to that perfect little mouth.
With a dry mouth, I have a thirst like no other, a desire and craving so compulsive I yearn for it to satisfy my needs and hydrate my desperate body. I silently pray she will eventually let me quench my greedy thirst by indulging me in the tantalising juices of her sweet little mouth. I find her mouth so deliciously tempting, as if I am starved of my next drop of water.
Fuck it. I reach over, placing my hands on her delicate little shoulders. An intense spark of energy courses through me at rapid speed echoing my heartbeat. I am so close to her face I inhale her musky perfume laced with hints of fresh flowers, essence of sweet fruit from her lip gloss, and of traces of a nutty scented body lotion.
I kiss both her cheeks, and shit, if her cheeks are not gloriously smooth. My breath hitches in my throat. I need to lower the intonation of my voice to mask the lump wedged in my throat. “Until we meet again. Non ho mai visto tanta bellezza, si è davvero special,” I say in a husky whisper. Or at least that is what I aim for.
I almost need to grab the back of her head to steady her before she staggers backwards as I watch her eyes roll back in her head and her cheeks flush. Bingo. Got you, beautiful girl. She faffs on about familiarity.
Sweet baby girl, you have no idea just how familiar I plan to get with you, I silently voice.
Feeling like I have her rapt attention, I cannot resist brushing my thumb across her peachy fresh cheeks. My blue eyes meet her truffle-coloured eclipses flickering with anticipation. Wide with amazement, she stares at me, her mascara coated lashes fluttering, warmth pooling in her eyes. Simply warm and adorable. Inviting.
“Addio, bella signora … Goodbye, lovely lady … that is what it means,” I advise her before telling her to have a safe trip. Still she does not elaborate on her destination. I resign myself to accept this woman is a closed little book and is not going to tell me. Not that I can do jackshit about where she is going because I will indeed be going back to Tuscany tomorrow. Fucking fate teasing me once more. Testing me.
What I do know is that I will be patiently waiting for her return and have every intention of charming her in any way that I can. My attention settles on a fascinating lose tendril of hair like a coated ribbon that has uncurled from her sexy style.
I would love to feed my hands through that hair, unravelling it, watching it tumble all around her shoulders. The mere thought sends a nice fucking shiver down my spine. Better still, her hair blanketing my shoulders when I kiss the crook of her neck seems equally appealing.
Holding my breath, I move the sexy wave from her cheek, feeling her tremble under my touch, but this time her eyes are fired up with burning lust. She feels the chemistry too. She is shaking with desire. I gasp, filling my lungs, inhaling as much of her as I can before I leave.
So this is what it feels like to experience instant attraction to a woman who steals your breath from you, blazes you inside, and touches your soul.
Just to make sure she is in fact real, I look over my shoulder, dipping my head to steal something from her … another glance.
Love at first sight.
Part one: Lussuria ~ Lucca’s Words
“Lussuria ~ Chapter Two: Chemistry”
Chapter 2
Breath-Stealer
I pause outside of her clinic door and compose my thoughts, willing myself not to go back in there, lock the door behind me, and smash my lips on hers. That could be perceived as sexual harassment in the workplace, which reminds me … Ronan. The walking hard-on jackass needs a proper warning.
Without making eye contact with the regulars now starting to flood the gym, suited booted and fresh out of work, I walk straight towards Ronan’s office. I knock once and open the door, not sure if he will still be here, but hey, it is my club. I should not need permission.
I find him perched on his desk with Kirsty, our group exercise coordinator, pretending to shuffle through a mess of paperwork, some slipping from her fingers, as if she has just grabbed them straight from a bundle on the desk. I do not fucking care. She is not impressing me. What I do notice is she seems flustered, like I have caught her at a bad moment.
“Kirsty, Ronan. Sorry to barge in. I need a word with you, Ronan, in private,” I say, my expression thunderous as I plough a hand through my hair. Ronan shoots me a wry smile. Kirsty nervously twirls her almond-coloured hair in her fingers, lips tipping into a nervous firm line. She is not in trouble. I do not know why she is worrying. There is no need.
“Kirsty, is everything okay?” I ask, lowering my tone to a hard, flat whisper.
“Um, yes. I will leave you too it,” she replies with caution. She is either intimidated by the glacial stare in my eyes, the grinding of my jaw, or ironclad tension in my posture showing terse muscles. I nod, smiling favourably as not to piss her off any more than she already looks. Moving, I allow her to leave.
“Kirsty, please close the door,” I ask flatly, fixated on Ronan with a sharp skew in my eyes, silently warning him. She glances back towards Ronan with a look of apprehension. His weak smile returns a look with the same level of caution.
“What’s up?” he asks, pulling a chair over for me.
“I am not staying. It is fine. I am here to tell you … no warn you … under no, and I mean no, fucking circumstances will you go near the sexy brunette upstairs.” My eyes harden. He seems taken back by my request. His body stands more erect, hands coming to the back of his neck, mouth falling lax.
“It is not a request, it is an order. Stay away from her. I am warning you now … do not, and I mean do not, go near her clinic or approach her with your imprudent and inappropriate sleazy chat up lines. She is taken and as you said ‘out of bounds.’ Deal with Mark, the associate, if you have to, but stay away from her.” I walk over to a fetch a notepad from his desk and toss it in front of him.
“I would like Mark’s number please,” I add. He is wise not to push me. He walks over to his phone, scrolls through his contacts, and writes the number down. “Did she refuse to see you or something?” he asks, staring at my running clothes.
“She saw me. And like I said, keep away. If I find out you have been inappropriately referring to her as the hot, sexy brunette with colleagues or members, I will take this to HR. Give the woman a bit of respect please. She is not some random whore for you all to fantasise over.” I fold the paper and place it in my shorts.
I know I am coming off as harsh, but his notorious reputation and comments from earlier are at the front of my mind. The sexy brunette is taken. She is out of bounds, and I will not tolerate him degrading her or drawing unwanted male attention to her behind my back.
She is mine and the only attention I would allow Lexi to be shown is from me. Attention in the best possible way, the gentlemanly way. Not from a user … player … inconsiderate dickhead like him … the old me.
“Lucca, I’m sorry if I sounded offensive or unprofessional earlier. I was just being casual, man to man, giving you the heads up. Co
me on …you can’t say you never noticed how … um …” He slackens his tie. Good … I hope you feel the heat, prick. You fucking should. He should take notice of my threat because I fucking mean it. And I noticed alright, but I am not about to tell this dickhead that.
Without commenting, I lean over giving him a perfunctory hand shake. “I am glad we cleared that up. Great work today. I never told you how much I appreciated your insight in the meeting. Please tell Kirsty I am sorry about my tone. The back pain and my heavy workload are making me cranky, so I am sorry if I sound unreasonable.”
I lie. In fact I have never felt as elated, as on top of the world, as I do right now. My back pain seems to be subsiding, muscles relaxed, headache surpassed, and mind chock-full with visions of the beautiful Doc, but shit, my change in temperament comes from a deep-rooted possessive alpha male streak I have which has apparently decided to raise its caveman head.
All to protect the Doc, the intriguing woman upstairs.
“No worries, I understand. I hope that back of yours eases up.”
Leaving him to it, I grab my bag and suit from the changing room, forgoing changing back into it. The smell of Lexi’s perfume clings to my T-shirt, and I want to indulge in her scent just a little longer.
I retrieve my paperwork, laptop, keys, and phone from my office then lock up. I contemplate waiting for Lexi to finish, offer to drive her home … anything to steal more time with her, but I have the lads coming over tonight and need to pack for my trip.
From the lobby I make a call to Rose, my house keeper, reminding her not to food shop for me this week when she does her errands and to tell Peter to put my Bentley in for a service.
