Her posture changed, her shoulders rising and her face turning back towards mine. Seeing an opportunity, I took it and leaned forward to kiss her.
She gave in immediately, relaxing as I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her as close as the seat belts allowed.
My pulse thrummed and my dick hardened. I couldn’t think about tomorrow. All we had anyway was right now.
And right now, I needed to get her back to my penthouse.
I kissed her a little harder, sliding one hand down to press it against the curve in her lower back. My thumb swirled in circles, grazing the slip of bare skin between her sweater and pants.
Paige pushed forward a little bit more. I grabbed her hip and dug my fingers in, eager to have her on top of me.
She pulled back slightly. “You sure know how to convince a girl.”
“I wasn’t done yet.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “We’re parked on the street. I mean, I know it’s dark and all...”
“Mm hmm,” I murmured in agreement, running the back of my hand first down her throat then the center of her chest.
“You wouldn’t.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “You really think that?”
Paige bit back a smile. I grinned back, the stress of our lives forgotten about for one minute.
We could keep that minute going. Extend it into another one, and then another one. For how long, I didn’t know, but God, we could try.
“You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered, taking me by surprise by grabbing my hand and resting it right between her legs. It was hot there, and slightly damp.
I shifted in my seat, my dick so eager for escape that sitting still was rapidly becoming excruciating.
I ran my fingers across the fabric of her pants. She sighed and closed her eyes.
“I take it that’s a yes?”
Paige’s eyes snapped open. “Just for a few days.”
I hesitated. “Sure. For a few days.”
“Just to make sure I’m back to normal. Or, you know, whatever normal is for me.”
I solemnly nodded and pulled back into my own seat. With her finally broken, I couldn’t wait to get the two of us back to my penthouse to rip her clothes off.
“Will you take me to my apartment first, though? I need to get work clothes.”
I checked for traffic and then pulled out of the parking spot. “Will do.”
So, I’d gotten my extra minute.
Unfortunately, that new sixty seconds was the only thing guaranteed.
Paige
I packed just enough outfits for three days. No more and no less. I couldn’t tease myself by bringing anything extra.
Staying at Angelo’s meant treading dangerous, shark infested waters. Even though I knew I couldn’t go through with the arranged marriage, even if I was threatened by Moretti or anyone else, things would soon get complicated between me and Angelo.
I was falling for the guy. Hard. I wanted to tell myself it was because of my two-year dry spell, but I knew it wasn’t. It was him. Plain and simple.
Who knew what would happen once I refused to marry this Moretti guy? We didn’t know just how Angelo’s family was tied up in it all, but if it looked like he was part of my reason for refusing to go through with it, no doubt things would get bad for him.
The situation was anything but simple.
I needed simple. I needed average. Normal. I needed a guy who worked at a bank or an elementary school. A guy who rode his bike home at the end of every shift and spent each Sunday with his family on Staten Island, eating potato salad and dry turkey and watching football. The kind of guy who didn’t even know the mafia still existed.
The problem, though, is no average guy has the things Angelo does. Average guys don’t melt a girl’s panties with one look. They don’t have a touch that turns you into jelly. And not all of them stay with you all day in a hospital, doting on you nonstop. Especially not after knowing each other for such a short amount of time.
Even without the arranged marriage part getting in the way, Angelo and I probably wouldn’t have lasted. We started off so hot and heavy, I was sure the glory days would fizzle away to something lukewarm and uninteresting.
At Angelo’s building, we stepped out of the car right at the front stoop. He tossed his keys to a valet then rested his hand on my elbow and guided me towards the door being opened by a doorman. I was slightly embarrassed walking into such a nice building with a crappy old sweater on and a duffel bag hanging from one hand, but I kept my head high.
The elevator glided up the floors, taking us to the fifteenth, the top.
The ends of the short hallway were visible from the center. There was only one door, directly in front of us. Angelo found his key and let us in.
The large main room stretched out before us, as big as my entire apartment. The far wall, made of exposed brick, held four windows exposing the view of the building across the street. Paneled wood on the bottom and burnt orange paint on the top decorated the other four walls. With exposed beams and a thick, silver pipe running across the length of the ceiling, the place was something out of a magazine.
Angelo securely locked the door behind us, giving me another moment to take in the bookcases, two long, matching couches, and grand piano.
“I’ll show you your room,” he said from behind me.
I turned my face away so he wouldn’t see my disappointment. So much for his suggestion that we share a bed. What happened to the one night we slept together at his family house? Was that just a fluke?
It was probably just as well. Though I would only be staying there for a few days, I needed to keep reminding myself that it was all temporary. Sharing a bedroom together might make things harder anyway.
We walked through a doorway and into a smaller room. The doorway to the right revealed a kitchen and the one to the left a sitting room of some sort.
Right in front of us a polished wooden staircase wound up. I trailed behind Angelo, surreptitiously gleaning all the clues I could. The place was a mansion. And in the middle of the city, no less. Being in Angelo’s penthouse was like stepping back in time to New York’s Gilded Age.
Unlike his family home, the walls contained no photos. There seemed to be plenty of furniture, but the space was immaculate and elegantly put together. It didn’t have a lived-in feel at all.
The new landing took us down a wide hallway and past several closed doors.
“Here’s the best guest room,” he said, stopping at one near the end of the hall.
Decorated in off whites and creams, it contained a king size bed, a love seat, and a pretty Oriental screen decorated with flowers.
“The bathroom is there.” He pointed to the door to the left. “And there’s a walk-in closet in there as well. And this...”
He walked to the space directly across the bed and clasped two small knobs on what I previously thought was a normal dividing screen. Pulling them, the screen divided in half to reveal a flat screen TV on the wall.
“Is the TV,” he finished.
“Wow,” I breathed, genuinely impressed. “This is really nice.”
“Are you hungry?”
The question made me realize I was ravenous. “Yeah, I am.”
“I can go start some dinner. What would you like?”
I shrugged. “Oh, anything is fine.”
“I’ll see what I can whip up. I can also have something sent over, if there’s anything in particular...”
“No, really. Anything is fine. Thank you.”
“Would you like to take a shower?”
I nodded.
He returned the nod, albeit stiffly.
What changed with him? He’d been the one to insist I stay over. One moment he seemed doting, and then the next cold. Was actually having me there proving to be awkward for him?
Angelo left and I explored the bathroom. My entire bedroom could fit in the closet, and there was a shower stall, plus a deep, circular jacuzzi tub with jets.
/>
I undressed and climbed into the shower’s hot spray, letting the water’s jets massage the knots in my neck and shoulders. When I got so hot I couldn’t handle it anymore I climbed out and got dressed. I eyed the tub and promised myself a soak the next night. Moving back down the hallway, I resisted the urge to open any of the doors and look in them. For such an empty-feeling home, there sure were a lot of doors.
I found Angelo in the dining room off from the kitchen, filling two plates with pasta and salad.
“Just in time,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at me. “I hope this is all right.
“That looks great. Thanks for cooking.”
We settled down across from each other at the massive table and began eating. Though a simple meal, it was delicious and I had to fight to not consume it like a hungry wolf. A true Italian, Angelo could make a mean marinara sauce.
“You’re a pretty decent cook,” I told him.
“I only know how to make a few things. My mother’s recipes.”
“Oh. Well this is great. Is this weird?” I asked, before I could stop myself. “Having me here?”
Angelo seemed to weight the answer for a few moments. “Maybe. But I like it.”
I nodded and went back to my food.
I got it. The thing we had going on between us, whatever you could call it, was highly unusual. He probably didn’t make it a habit of having female guests over. Not for days on end anyway.
If anything, I should be the one feeling the most awkward. I tried to turn him down.
Though I really didn’t want to.
I looked for a way to change the topic. “How long have you lived here for?”
“A few years.”
“And always alone?”
“Yes.” His fork stilled. “I admit, though, I don’t spend much time here.”
“Ah.” I could tell.
“How are you feeling? Did the shower help?”
“Yeah. It did. Thanks. That’s some, ah, awesome shower head pressure...”
He kept looking at me from across the table, his gaze falling over me and making my temperature climb. The memory of his hands on me in the car came back, along with the way my own body responded.
Feeling awkward and put off around him at all seemed crazy. This was Angelo. We’d known each other in the most intimate way.
I couldn’t wait to get back to that.
As if reading my mind, Angelo stood up and walked purposefully around the edge of the table. I stood as well, my eyes transfixed on his face and the rest of dinner forgotten about.
Angelo stopped inches away from me, his eyes rapidly flicking between the two of mine.
I lifted my chin, letting my lips part slightly. His face had become flushed, but in a way, that had nothing to do with embarrassment. His own lips opened. Down, down, his eyes went, studying my body, one hidden beneath jeans and a button-up blouse.
One hand slowly came forward to finger a button on my shirt. Angelo fiddled slightly with it, then pushed a couple of his fingers through the fabric’s opening. His touch grazed against my bra and I sighed in anticipation.
With a quick movement, Angelo grabbed the front of my blouse and tore it open. I jumped in surprise, the little ivory buttons hitting the table and wall.
Before I could say anything, Angelo mashed his mouth against mine. My body went weak, responding to the promise of all the things it craved.
To think there had been a possibility I would never have his touch on me again.
The thought was too much to bear. I pushed it from my mind and focused on the here and now. His lips against mine. His hands running down my sides.
Wrapping his palms around my hips, Angelo picked me up and set me on the edge of the table. My legs knocked into the chairs, pushing them out of the way.
Eagerly, my hands grasped at his shirt, yanking it out of the way so my palms could find the smooth skin beneath the clothing. Angelo’s own hands ran up and down my legs, then across my stomach and chest.
Kissing down my neck, he pushed the cups of my bra down. I arched my back, pressing my torso up towards his face.
Swollen lips surrounded one of my exposed nipples, then teeth lightly bit. Sucking hard on one breast, Angelo rolled the other one in his hand. I grabbed his hair with both hands and tugged slightly, pushing his face harder against my chest.
Going back to kissing, he began work on my pants, undoing them and yanking them down. The bra and panties went as well, leaving me bare and exposed on the dining room table.
Angelo’s wide palm swept up the center of my chest and pushed me slowly backwards. I gingerly lay down, the top of my head grazing a vase of flowers in the process.
Angelo spread my naked thighs and buried his face between them. Right away unrestrained moans escaped my mouth. He sucked and kissed, his attention between my legs matching the kind he gave my nipples.
I wriggled a little closer to him, my shoulder blades pressing into the hard wood of the table. Angelo reached up and tweaked both my nipples. Pleasure rippled down from them and joined the goodness between my legs.
Nearly there, I cried out in ecstasy, gripped the edge of the table…
Angelo abruptly stopped and stood up.
His arms hooked under my waist and lifted me. Through the doorway we went, and down the hall to the open door of my room.
Angelo rested me on the bed. I lay still, waiting while he undressed himself. He watched me the entire time, eyes flaring with something I couldn’t describe. Not fire. Not smoldering heat like the last time we slept together. Something else. A new intensity, one I couldn’t label.
Naked, Angelo climbed on top of me and rested his body on mine. I gave into the weight, letting my back sink deeply into the mattress. He entered me slowly, his arms wrapping around me as he did so.
Holding me close, Angelo kissed me, our bodies pulsing together. Forward and backward we rocked.
An orgasm quickly built then traveled through me, making me quake in his arms. He kissed me even harder.
On and on, we pushed against each other, the motion still soft and slow. Gradually it slowed down and finally we just lay there, the lovemaking fading delightfully rather than just abruptly ending.
Our deep kisses turned into softer and shorter ones. I turned my head to the side and looked at the closed curtains. Angelo rested his head on my chest. A siren sounded on the street below, growing louder and then fainter.
“I don’t want you to marry him.”
His proclamation shook the dimly lit room.
“I don’t want to,” I rasped from a dry throat.
He kept his head on my chest, the only thing moving being his hand lightly rubbing my arm. “I’ll do what I can to help you.”
I swallowed hard.
The words came as close to a promise as I could ask for.
Perhaps, just perhaps, having Angelo on my side meant I wasn’t doomed after all.
Angelo
Three weeks.
How could they go by so fast?
I managed to keep Paige at my place all that time. She’d only gone home once to pick up more clothes.
Things had been easy between us. Too easy. Hell, unrealistically easy.
Unlike many other women, who constantly got on my nerves after several hours, having Paige around for days was a cake walk. We kept to our separate spaces in the penthouse, doing our own things after work but coming together for dinner and then, always, damned good lovemaking.
The weekends, full of ambling around the city and picnicking in the park, were just as pleasant as the week days. My nights of going out to the clubs and bars with Jeff and the other guys were gone. There was no point in hitting downtown and trying to pick up some woman I would just dispose of the next day.
I already had what I craved.
After a couple nights, I basically moved into the guest room with Paige. Not that I meant to. Leaving her side at the end of the night just seemed pointless, my own bedroom just down the hal
l a thousand miles away.
That and I couldn’t stand the thought of her in another room all by herself. I worried about her constantly. What if she woke in the night after having a bad dream? Would her newly discovered memories give her night terrors?
Sometimes she whimpered in her sleep, but when I asked her about it the next day she always claimed she didn’t remember any dreams.
I meant what I told her that first night back home. I would do everything in my power to help her.
I’d been doing everything in my power. Unfortunately, that wasn’t good enough. No one in my family was talking, the tight-lipped Salvatore trait I used to admire grating my nerves in the worst way.
“What’s that?” Paige asked.
I glanced over to where she sat in the passenger seat. I’d surprised her on Saturday with a shopping trip downtown, and though she initially protested I insisted that she at least let me buy her some work outfits.
The new cream colored suit dress she wore hugged her in all the best spots. Just the sight made me practically salivate.
“Huh?” I asked, already distracted.
“You sighed.”
“Oh.” I pretended to focus on the morning traffic. “I was just thinking...”
“About my birthday,” she finished.
“Yes,” I slowly agreed, and then I changed the subject. “About where we should eat. Where would you like to go? There’s that new French place in the Lower East Side. But we don’t have to go there. You liked that seafood place near the pier, right?”
Now she sighed. “You were thinking about the other part of me turning twenty-five, weren’t you? Not the partying part. The not so good part.”
My shoulders bunched up. “Yes.”
Mostly I’d been thinking about how impossible it would be to let her go. Really, though, I’d exhausted the only option I could think of when it came to preventing that. There seemed to be no avenues left. I had to be careful where I poked around for information. If word got out that I was asking about Paige and Moretti that could put me on some people’s naughty lists. Go too high up on one of those and one day you end up missing, never to be heard from again.
The Billionaire and The Virgin Page 18
