“What about class?” Liam said as though he hadn’t been the one to smash through my willpower.
“I’ll be late,” I said, pushing my hips against his even while he held my wrists behind my back. I bit down on my bottom lip and let it slide out through my teeth, feeling it plump up from the pressure.
Liam made a deep, satisfied noise that reverberated in my chest. It sent tingles all through me. He kissed me, stopping only long enough to peel my shirt off, letting go of my wrists so that he could undo my bra and slide it down my arms so he could see just how excited I’d become for him.
“Don’t ever run away again,” he said between kisses that he slid up and down my neck and shoulder, running his fingers through my hair as it dangled behind my tilted head.
“If this is how you punish me, I’m going to run away every day,” I said, my voice husky, needy.
That earned me another one of those desirous groans from him. He pulled off his jacket, his tie and his shirt. Then my bare chest pressed against his, the warmth of his skin stiffening my nipples so that they ached.
Then we were on the bare mattress, my clothes and his balled together into a makeshift pillow under my head.
He had protection, though I knew I wouldn’t have denied him if he hadn’t.
I never felt as satisfied as when he eased into me then. “Emma…” he breathed, his voice making me tremble and quiver inside all around him.
We moved and ground against each other desperately, all our pent up frustrations and foiled desires coming out.
Liam pounded all of that out of me. He was merciless. Not that I asked for any mercy. I didn’t want any. I wanted it all. I wanted everything he could give me.
I kept clutching at him, not wanting him to move away at all. He had to take the space he needed to keep our bodies in rhythm.
He’d wind his fingers through my hair, pulling it taut between his knuckles so he could force my mouth to any angle he wanted, leaving him only one arm to support himself.
His biceps bulged, his powerful pulse forcing the hot blood through his veins. If it was anywhere near as hot as mine, it felt as though my heart pumped lava through me.
I found purchase on him anywhere I could. My fingertips tugged at the prominences of his shoulder blades. The V-shaped muscles of his back guided me hands down the cleft of his spine to his ass.
And that felt as good as it looked, flexing and relaxing in quick succession even when I squeezed him.
Soon I went rigid beneath him, all that heat between my thighs seeming to concentrate. My hands slid back up to his shoulders and I pulled him hard against me so that his hot, panting breaths caressed my shoulders.
“Don’t stop,” I begged, “Please don’t stop.”
He’d begun to tremble from my touch. He told me that he couldn’t close his eyes without thinking of how much he wanted me. I couldn’t do anything that didn’t remind him of me. How he never wanted to go another day without touching me.
His voice was a hot, low whisper in my ear. He was like iron inside of me. Irresistible.
“There’s nothing I love more in this world than making you come for me,” he breathed, feeling the way my grip on him tightened, feeling the way my body arched beneath his.
His words tumbled me over the edge. I bucked beneath him, losing control of myself to his pleasure and mine.
Liam came with me, nuzzling and kissing my neck. I ran my fingers up into his hair and pressed his mouth harder against me, desperate to keep him there, desperate to be with him.
I’d lifted my back clear up off the bed so that my stomach brushed up against his. I descended slowly as my muscles loosened.
Then his face floated over mine and I couldn’t resist reaching out to touch its masculine contours. My fingertips grazed his jaw, his cheeks, the pad of my thumb lingering against the cleft in his chin.
His look matched mine for intensity, our bodies still throbbing in time with each other. And then his lips against mine. He tasted vaguely salty from sweat.
I wished again that we could spend all day in bed, holding each other. But as passion receded the weight of responsibility began grinding me beneath its bulk once more.
I barely had time to clean up and pull a fresh change of clothes out of my luggage. And then I had to open my luggage up and sort through it to find my notebook and a textbook I could skim on the bus ride over to the campus.
“I almost threw all of this out,” I said, laying the notebook on my desk. The spine of the book still had my fine-tipped ballpoint pen stuck in it. I’d always preferred the fine tips. Mediums smudged too much. And they were better for doodling with in class.
“I guess you knew you’d be needing it again.”
Liam had untangled our makeshift pillow and had pulled on his suit. At that moment, he sat on the bed, leaned over as he tied his shoes. His hair was still tousled from our loving, and I had the strong urge to run my fingers through it again.
Must. Resist. But damned if it that wasn’t incredibly difficult.
When he stood, I got a good look at the state of his clothes and I gasped. “Your suit! Oh, I’m so sorry…”
He noticed my concern and looked down at himself, brushing ineffectually at the wrinkles and creases in the silk. His tie had a deep-pressed one that had it tilting off to the left.
“It’s okay. When you’re away from me today I’ll just have to glance at my reflection to remember how badly you wanted me to leave.”
That earned him a hot blush. “I can’t believe you said that! You grabbed me, remember? You wouldn’t let me go, remember?”
“You know… I think I’m going to get some bruises on my wrists in the shape of your fingers…” Liam said, grinning. “So why are you procrastinating, anyway?”
“I am not!” It was a lie. I seriously considered jumping him again. I really didn’t want to see Dr. Aretino, or even think about school. It gave me a cold sensation in the pit of my stomach to think about.
Of course, Liam knew exactly what was bothering me. “It’s okay. I understand. But you can’t beat him at this unless you confront that fear and make yourself do it.”
“You’d make a great motivational speaker, you know that?”
“That’s my backup career,” he said, pushing himself up off the bed. The springs in the mattress made a labored sproing noise. Then he offered his hands to help my up off the floor and then to step over the perimeter of clothes and school supplies I’d surrounded myself with.
“Really? Because I think you could make some bank as a gigolo.”
He shook his head. “Sure. Now stop stalling and get that cute ass in gear.” He gave me a stinging spank that had me hissing.
“You…!”
“Not me. You. Go. Unless you’d rather I drag you there? Somehow I don’t think that would help your cause, though.”
***
I went to class, grudgingly. I even opened up my text and tried to study the readings for the lecture, my eyes skimming the words as the bus jostled me from side to side.
However, as much as I loved studying art, especially Italian art, my mind kept going elsewhere.
I kept worrying about the look on Dr. Aretino’s face, as though he’d somehow know that I’d come so close to packing it all in and running back to the States.
Rationally, I knew there was no way he could know. But I knew. I knew that I’d almost folded.
If only this were as simple as a game of cards. I could call his bluff and that would be that. Except this wasn’t a prize pot at stake, but my academic career, my future. And what if he wasn’t bluffing?
He certainly seemed to be holding all the right cards. A royal flush against my pair of twos.
But there had to be a way to get through this. Liam had said he’d wanted to quit, that he had felt that he was going to fail. Yet he’d succeeded. He’d succeeded all the way to the bank.
I got to class and took my seat. By some miracle, I wasn’t late. I’d sat down pretty m
uch just as Dr. Aretino entered the lecture hall, toting that briefcase in one hand and wiping at the sweat on his expansive forehead with the other.
“Emma, have you reconsidered my offer? I heard that the review board sent you a letter. Does it say what I fear it said? I am happy that you are still here. It gives me hope that you will see that I am right,” Dr. Aretino said, stopping beside my row of seats and leaning against the outermost one as he spoke.
“I haven’t reconsidered, professor. And I did get the letter. I’m still confident I can make you see things my way.”
He clicked his tongue at me like I was a particularly stubborn child who refused to learn her lesson. “You should not worry so much about such things when the solution is obvious. It will age you, Ragazzo D’oro, and you are too young to begin looking old.”
By then class should have started. My classmates had shifted in their seats to look at the two of us and wonder at the delay.
He went to the lectern at the front of the class, apologizing about the delay.
I listened to the lecture with only one ear. My mind was preoccupied, searching for some way to fix all this.
Several ideas popped into my head as I watched him take a question from a pretty girl who always sat near the front. I could record him coming onto female students. Get him to state something less than professional with my cell in my pocket recording the conversation. Trap him, basically.
Except there were several obvious problems with that. The first was whether or not the rest of the faculty or the dean would even care. Clearly they knew at least something of how he used his position.
Besides, Dr. Aretino had tenure, that Holy Grail sought by all academics. He could probably get away with anything short of out and out murder without worrying about losing his job.
And then there was that whole he-said-she-said thing I’d run up against in my earlier attempts to figure out some way to beat him. He was tenured, respected, published. I was a foreign student with apparently poor grades.
It also smacked of dishonesty, subterfuge, blackmail. All things that left me feeling slimy and tainted. Like I’d be sinking to his level to go through with anything like that.
I wanted to be the person Liam saw when he looked at me. The girl with integrity, intelligence, honesty. I wanted to look into his eyes and see that girl reflected back at me.
But how? That question echoed around inside my skull.
I came pretty close to accepting Liam’s offer to help. If he could bury Abigail in an avalanche of shark-toothed lawyers and mounds of litigation I knew he could probably do something similar with Dr. Aretino.
That would be him fixing my problem for me, though. And that would definitely not make me the person he saw when he looked at me.
Being honest, maintaining your integrity, was hard work. They say that crime doesn’t pay, but it sure seemed like the rent was cheaper.
Class ended, and I scurried away before the good professor could request my company.
I found myself drawn to the library. Like many campus libraries, it was designed along the lines of a fortress, as though to provide a solid bulwark to guard the knowledge contained within.
Perhaps I felt like I needed some protection, some sort of safety to retreat to and regroup from.
They had a nice little cafe in the lobby, something like most people back home would consider an upscale coffee shop. A glassed in counter with various confections and baked goods. Lights hanging from the ceiling at different levels. A shiny espresso machine.
The only thing that ruined the effect was the tall, boxy Coke cooler behind the counter.
I ordered a cinnamon cookie and a latte. It seemed like sacrilege to order something from an Italian coffee shop that didn’t contain espresso, so I always made sure I did.
My phone started buzzing again. It was Isabella. She wanted to know if I wanted to get something to eat or drink.
Part of me wished that it had been Liam letting me know he’d come up with a brilliant solution that was both highly effective as well as above board.
At the library cafe, I texted.
UM, she returned. Uno Momento.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d have missed Isabella until I saw her stride into the cafe. She spotted me right away and came to join me after placing her order with the barista.
I hugged her and caught a whiff of her perfume. It was vanilla scented and it was beguiling.
“You act like we haven’t seen each other in some time,” she said.
“Something like that,” I replied. I took the plastic lid off my espresso to let some of the steam waft away.
“Perhaps you should have ordered it iced?”
Isabella and a few of the others always liked to mock me gently for letting my drinks cool a little before I sipped at them. I guess that Italians liked to scald their mouths. Either that, or they were born with the innate ability to down hot espresso.
“Next time I’ll get a cold one,” I returned.
Usually I took the teasing in stride. Sitting there, I didn’t realize how much I would have missed it until she brought it up.
“You are certain? You seem… sad?” Isabella tried, searching for the right English word.
I kept getting this urge to tell her everything. To tell her that I couldn’t come up with any way to get Dr. Aretino to lay off.
Except my desire to fix this all by myself kept intercepting that impulse. There has to be a way. I’m just not seeing it yet.
“Has Professor Di Cenzo fixed that paper for you, yet?” she asked. The barista came over with Isabella’s latte and set it on the table beside her. “Grazi.” She sipped from it right away, not even flinching at the heat.
I shrugged. “Not yet.”
“You told him that he made an error? You told him that I helped you with that paper?”
“Yes to the first, no to the second.”
“You should tell him. He would reconsider if he knew.”
“The work should stand on its own, though. I just don’t know what to do about it anymore. It’s like there’s nothing I can do!” Frustration clouding my judgment, I grabbed my latte and took a sip. It was still too hot. I sucked in a breath through my teeth at the sudden pain.
“Are you certain you are all right? You seem… I believe the word is preoccupied?”
“It’s nothing,” I started to say. I couldn’t finish, though. There comes a point where you have to let something out, or else you would burst. And I didn’t like keeping this from Isabella. She knew something of what was going on, true. But not the full extent.
So I told her. I filled her in on everything. On how Dr. Aretino refused to budge, on Professor Di Cenzo and the rest of the faculty siding with him, on how I’d come so close to leaving, on how Liam had come and saved me from myself there.
And how I felt my hands were tied, how I couldn’t figure out how to fix this that didn’t involve me lowering myself to Dr. Aretino’s level.
Isabella listened carefully, that little dimple of concentration forming between her eyebrows. She took sips from her latte, then pressed her lips together.
When I finished, she said, “You didn’t think to say goodbye to me?”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. Will you forgive me?”
“Of course.”
We hugged again and I experienced this burst of gratitude and friendship for her.
“You say you don’t want to be like him. I do not mind so much. Let me take care of this for you. There is a baron with an estate near Napoli, he wants my attention so badly, he will do anything I ask him. Anything, I tell you. I could get him to…”
I put my hand on hers. “Thanks, really. But I really feel like I need to take care of this myself.”
She smiled in a way that would make an angel blush. “Fine. If you feel you must, then you must. You won’t accept any help at all? Not even from your Liam?”
“I want to do this myself,” I reiterated.
Isabella held up her hand to stop me from saying anymore.
“I think that you’ve become so involved in this that you have forgotten something. There is a difference between asking for help and advice and getting someone to do a thing for you.”
“I don’t see your point,” I said.
“If your Liam feels for you like I think he does, then he would very much like to help you. You should let him.”
“No,” I shook my head.
She blinked, then glanced around the cafe, trying to find some way to explain what she meant. Then she smiled. “Your paper for Professor Di Cenzo, you let me help you with that. You let me suggest changes and additions. Was that cheating?”
“Of course not,” I replied. Teachers and professors were always bugging students to review each other’s work. “Oh,” I finished, finally seeing her point.
Isabella shrugged, then looked at me over the rim of her cup while she took another sip of her latte.
She set the cup down and then lightly tapped the tabletop with her manicured nails. “So here is my advice to you: accept help. Let him help you.”
We finished our drinks together. I didn’t pity that baron trying to court her. He didn’t stand a chance.
Chapter 16
Liam picked me up from the campus. The sun had begun its descent into the west, and we had to pull the visors down to keep it out of our eyes. A bar of shadow ran over Liam’s face starting at his nose, making it look like he wore a mask.
“Is this the same one as before?” I said, nodding at the BMW’s dash.
“Yes, actually. They tried to offer me a different one, but I insisted. I have too many good memories with this car to let it go so easily.”
We purposely avoided talking about school. I could tell he wanted to, from the way we danced around the subject.
Instead, we talked about how pretty the city looked in the slowly dying light, about what we hoped to see at the museum. That sort of thing. Anything but Dr. Aretino and how I planned on winning.
And then I kept thinking about what Isabella had told me. I wanted to do like she suggested, I really did. It just didn’t feel like the right time, though. Like some important piece was missing from the equation.
Italian Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story Page 17
