“What are you doing?” It leaves her on a shaky whisper.
“Nothing at all.” Turning my face, I trail my lips up from her cheek to her ear, releasing a rough exhale there that makes my Gem shake. To make this little noise from the back of her throat that causes my cock to jerk hard within the confines of my trousers, beads of pre-come rolling down the sensitive skin. I can feel each one. How they coat my piercing and then the fabric of my trousers. “Be ready by eight and I’ll tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Aurora arches her neck to give me better access.
“Why you’re my Gem.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I nip the skin she’s offering. A bite just shy of pain and that will leave my small mark. “Eight on the dot.”
“Eight.” It’s a moan. A plea for another.
“Yes,” I hum and stand up to my full height, towering over her small frame with a smirk. Loving the dazed look in her eyes, the quick rise and fall of her chest. How I affect her. “See you in an hour, love.”
“Okay.”
Leaving is hard, but I do so without another word.
I’ll give her the next sixty minutes to prepare for me. To get her thoughts in order, but that’s it.
I’m ready for her to meet me as I am.
The devil behind the eyes of a saint.
8
THE SECOND HE walks out, I let out the breath I’d been holding. I’m shivering and my legs feel weak. I’m confused and angry and feel elated all at once.
I’ve been expecting him. It’s why I didn’t scream. Why I let him get close and then convince me to attend this dinner.
This effect he has on me isn’t fair, and he uses it to his advantage. He gets under my skin, and I forget the reasons why we—I—shouldn’t.
Like his similarities to my father. What I heard inside his office. How he had his employee see me out.
That last one stings the most, which is hypocritical since I was already looking for a way out. I know this. Admit it. However, the mind is a torturous bitch, and mine seems to hate me since I woke up in his bed. It won’t let me rest, agree with the rational side of me.
He’s nothing but bad news wrapped up in a handsome package. A beautiful disaster.
This man has heartbreak written all over him, and I’m going to be damaged goods after he leaves. Because all men do that in the end. They come and conquer and then disappear into the night with nothing but the occasional smoke signal left in their wake if you’re lucky.
I don’t want that life. His kind of life. The kind my father gave my mother and me.
And what’s worse, I have a feeling he knows more than he lets on. That he sees more than I want him to.
“Why didn’t I just tell him to go?” I ask myself aloud, but the answer is pretty obvious. Even with all those strikes against him, I want Casper. Want him near. Desire his lustful wrath.
There’s something about him that pulls me in; I wasn’t lying when I told him this. Just like I’m aware of his presence, that dominating force that takes over any room and makes you take notice:
Of him.
Of just how dangerous he is.
That night at the club, I felt it. Let it consume me.
Let him take over my senses—rationality—and I followed his lead. With him, I lowered my inhibitions and let the almost painful need that bloomed at his touch dictate my actions.
I slept with him without a condom.
I begged for more.
I became a needy whore without an ounce of shame.
My thighs clench at the memory of his rough hands, and I place my palm on the door to hold myself up, leaning my forehead against the cool metal for a second. “Why is he here?”
Another question with a simple answer: me.
For two days now I’ve felt him near, could smell that lingering scent of wood and spice in the air around me. Haunting me. Making me doubt my sanity as I looked around but couldn’t find his handsome face.
And even as he evaded my eyes, I knew.
In a sick way, I felt nothing but relief when he spoke from the darkened corner of my room. I like that he came for me. More than I should, and it brings forth a tumultuous mixture of emotions that I’m not ready to decipher.
“Maybe I am going insane?” Damn him, I’m yo-yoing again. Going from one emotional extreme to the next as I did back at his home. It’s making me unstable. Agreeable. Too curious for my own damn good. “Or maybe I’m just an idiot when it comes to him.”
Not a question. My actions prove as much.
My curiosity will be my downfall, and I’m walking straight toward it.
Turning, I head toward the closet in the room and grab a little taupe-colored faux wrap dress that I bought in London during my afternoon outing. It’s sexy, comfortable, and fits me like a glove. Then, I peruse my shoes and grab a pair of nude, embellished-buckle heels and the pearl drop earrings inside of a small case with my jewelry.
Normally, I don’t wear anything outside of a bracelet with a large charm my mom gave me when I turned sixteen, but today calls for something extra. At the very least, I want the man to suffer. To want what I’m not going to give him.
I’ve become certifiable. Playing with the devil.
It thrills and scares me all in the same breath. Makes me feel guilty but alive.
This combustible attraction pushes me to seek out answers to questions I shouldn’t have but can’t deny.
Once I have everything in my hand, I walk back out and cast a glance at the hotel alarm clock, realizing I only have forty minutes left to get ready. “I need something with lace,” I mumble under my breath, mentally checking through what I have with me. I never took my lingerie out of my luggage, choosing instead to leave the suitcase inside the small sitting area and above the coffee table there. The lid is closed but not zipped, and I flip it open to the small compartment. I know what I’m looking for: a black and lace pair of boy shorts and a bralette in the same material.
The bra doesn’t do much in the lifting department, but mine are perky and this just gives my nipples an extra barrier of protection against his charm.
With everything laid out atop the bed, I drop the towel and get dressed. Everything fits me just right, and as I walk to the bathroom to do my makeup and hair, I decide to go the natural route. Just a bit of mascara, my winged liner, and a hint of gloss on my full lips.
Then, I leave my hair to air dry. Grabbing the mousse atop the counter, I dispense a healthy amount and work it through my hair, scrunching the raw waves and giving them an extra bit of bounce. It’s the perfect complement to the atmosphere; the sea salt in the air and the waves crashing upon on the shore.
Besides, if he pisses me off, I can go from date night to a club like this. Keep telling yourself that.
Ignoring my inner thoughts, I open the faucet to wash my hands, when there’s a knock. Three simple raps against the metal door and my thighs clench—heart trying to beat out of my chest as my panties dampen.
I know it’s him. Casper.
It’s that same crazy electricity that flows through my system when he’s near.
Another knock follows a few seconds after, and I give myself one last look in the mirror. “Just dinner, Roe. Behave and don’t lose yourself.”
Easier said than done, because the moment I open that door a few seconds later, I know it’s a lost cause. Every single cell in my body comes alive, and I thrum with excitement. With that dangerous edge of fire I’m currently playing with.
I’m going to burn for this.
He’s going to ruin me.
“You look motherfucking delicious, Gem.”
“So, tell me a bit about yourself?” he asks from beside me just as I lift my forkful of saffron rice to my lips. “Where are you from? Tell me about your family.”
Putting the utensil back on my plate, I take a moment to sip from my wine glass instead—trying to find the right way to phrase my answer without explaining just who my father is. How similar they are.
Because my mother wouldn’t be a hard or long topic; I don’t speak of her in detail. It’s not necessary, more so after saying a certain four-letter word that makes others uncomfortable.
However, Matteo Cancio is another beast. One he will grill me on. Ask me questions I don’t have answers to.
These men don’t have a reason to know about each other. They should never meet; Casper’s in the UK and my father in Boston.
There should be no business ties. These two worlds should never collide.
Besides, it’s not like I’ll be seeing Casper after this. You hate liars.
“You’re saying my accent doesn’t give me away?” I say instead, changing the subject while waving my right hand in the air. My eyes are on his, watching, and I catch the moment a hint of amusement flashes through his eyes. As if he’s privy to what I’m doing. “What?”
You’re hiding something yourself, hypocrite.
“What’s what?” he counters, taking a sip from his own glass, savoring the full-bodied red he chose to accompany his steak. Watching him swallow is a sinful experience—the way his throat bobs is sexy, and he knows this. The curl at the corner of his top lip tells me just how aware he is of his appeal. “Be more specific, Gem.”
“Fine,” I huff, finding my opening. The perfect way to avoid. “How about you tell me about the nickname? What does it mean?”
“So tit for tat.”
“More like I want answers, and you owe me.” I lift a bitch brow, while on the inside I’m relieved he’s following. That I won’t have to lie.
“How’d you figure that, love?” There’s something in his tone that I can’t quite decipher. His posture is completely at ease while a boyish grin spreads across full lips. Lips that I want to taste. Remember how good they felt against my own.
Focus, Roe. Don’t let him jumble our conviction.
Taking in a deep breath, I let it out slowly while squaring my shoulders. I won’t be dissuaded. “Because you sent me away the morning after via your employee without a goodbye. Because you followed me here—imposed yourself on my vacation—without me ever sharing my location. Because you were inside of my hotel room, waiting, as I took a shower without my giving you a key.” I tick each point off with my fingers, mimicking his posture, my voice at an even decibel. “What are you looking for?”
“You.” A simple answer that causes goose bumps to rise on my skin. “I’m here because of you.”
I let out a small huff. “Explain, Casper. I deserve more than that.”
The waiter comes around then, pulling my attention away. “How’s the food? Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No,” we reply in unison, remaining quiet until the man is out of earshot. A minute or two passes and I’m beginning to get frustrated, the silence more than awkward.
“Ask me.” Casper’s low words pull my eyes back to his warm green ones. My breath catches inside my throat; the softness in them isn’t something I’m expecting, and my traitorous heart thumps harshly within my chest. “Ask me again why I am here.”
“Tell me.” My own response is a whisper. Almost afraid to hear his response.
To face what his words could mean.
Sitting forward, he extends his left hand toward me, palm facing upwards. Long fingers wiggle while the handsome devil raises a brow; it’s an invitation. A welcoming gesture that I can’t turn down.
I place mine atop his and a current—this inexplicable feeling begins to flow through my limbs. It’s heady. Pulling me in closer by this inexplicable and invisible force.
“That’s why. Right there.” His thumb runs across my wrist, over my pulse point that thumps wildly beneath his fingertip. “There’s something about you, Aurora Conte, that pulls me in. That I can’t get out of my head.” His hand grips my wrist then and tugs me over, enough so that I’m but a few inches from his face. Tasting his every exhale. “That same desire is what put me on a plane to Ibiza so I could steal another kiss.”
“I don’t—”
Casper shakes his head, telling me he isn’t finished, and I close my lips. “Want to know why I call you Gem.” It’s not a question and yet, I still nod. Waiting with bated breath for another confession. “You’re my Gem because you’re trouble under the disguise of a priceless jewel. Rare and hidden, but once found, they come attached to a heavy price tag. A life of servitude.”
“What are you trying to say?” Because I need more clarification. To understand.
His fingers intertwine with mine and tug, causing our lips to meet. At once, that spark of desire and life and warmth reignites, seeping into every single cell in my body. Making me move closer. Moan as he sweeps his mouth over mine, once, twice, and then parts his lips, letting me taste him as he releases a rough exhale.
“What I’m saying, love, is that we’ll be fucked in this together.”
9
“SO, THIS IS ME,” Aurora says as we stop in front of her room door an hour later. She’s a tiny bit tipsy, smiling and fucking adorable while looking up at me.
We’ve done nothing but talk, eat, and drink—laugh—all night. Just being. Something I don’t have the luxury to do, but with her seem to effortlessly fall into.
I’ve also held back from kissing those sweet lips again for the sake of showing I can be a gentleman if I so choose. To show her that I’m not just after what’s between her thighs, that torturous heat that I can feel through the fabric of my trousers. That I want to drown in.
I’m here for more than that.
I’m here to get to know all of her. Figure out why I can’t stay away.
Just a taste. Just one and I’ll leave.
“Are you sure, love?” I close the gap between us, pushing her against the solid metal, one hand on her hip while the other is flat on the door beside her head. “What if it’s mine?”
“You’re not staying here.” It’s a matter-of-fact response that pulls a small chuckle from me. “I would know.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” Then, her brows furrow while nimble fingers dig into her small clutch, bringing the keycard up to her face. “Says room 916...that’s mine?”
“Then I guess it is.”
“Told you.” The look she gives me is full of sass and fire—of a playfulness that makes my length twitch against her lower abdomen.
Motherfuck, she’s beautiful. Adorably erotic in these tiny bouts of softness that come forth when her guard is down. And I like her like this, relaxed and without the purse in her lips or the stiffness in her posture.
Right now, she’s languid against me. Melting into me.
Without realizing, her body seeks mine. My warmth. My touch.
While her shoulders are pressed against the door, those hips are slightly pushing forward. Small gyrations against my cock that cause me to grit my teeth.
“Behave.”
“Why?”
Instead of answering, I bring the hand at her hip up, skimming up the center of her chest and pause at her throat. Aurora swallows hard and my fingers stretch out over the expanse, tightening just a bit to see her reaction.
It’s automatic. Sensual.
Those hazel eyes close and lips part, my name slipping past those lips on a sacred moan. “Casper.”
That sound breaks me, and before she can take her next inhale, I slam my lips to hers. I pin her body against that door, tilting her head back as I devour her natural sweetness. It shakes me and pulls an almost animalistic growl from deep within my chest as I part her lips, caressing my tongue with hers as I take more.
As she lets me. As I dominate the kiss.
And fuck me if she isn’t a responsive little thing.
Her clutch meets the floor and those small fingers embed themselves in my hair, tugging at the ends to pull me closer. “I shouldn’t want this, but I do,” she mewls, a low kittenish sound that settles on the swollen head of my cock and I thrust against her. It’s pleasurable pain. It’s a guttural need.
It br
ings rationality back and I slow down our kiss to a few soft pecks. Because while I want her—fucking crave her—I want her to trust me. To beg me. To call on me.
Stepping back, I bend down and pick up her small purse and the phone that slipped out. I don’t look at her as I do this, nor do I ask her for permission while entering my phone number into the device.
“What are...why?” Aurora huffs, frustration and want ringing clear through her words.
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
Gem snatches her belongings from my hand, eyes narrowed. “I’m not a toy.”
“And I’m just a man,” I counter, loving how her eyes immediately shift to the bulge in my trousers. “A hard-as-fuck man.”
“Then why—”
Placing a finger over her lips, I shake my head. “Because I’m trying to be more than the arsehole you think I am.”
At once, whatever rebuttal she had evaporates and the soft girl from a bit ago returns. “Okay.” There’s a hint of a blush on her cheeks that makes my mouth water, even more so when she turns, fumbling with the card and its slot. Her hands are shaking, breathing a bit labored.
On the third try, the light turns green and her hand turns the handle, pushing the door wide open. Her right foot moves, entering the threshold, and I press myself one last time against her back, pushing her soft tresses over one shoulder so I can lay a tiny kiss below her ear.
“If you need me, I’m right next door. Sweet dreams, Gem.”
Her body calls to mine like a siren’s song.
An unrelenting tune set out to destroy the last of my mental stability. Not that there’s ever been much there; I’m a proud arsehole without an ounce of shame. Without remorse.
Being a criminal is second nature.
Taking a life is as easy as breathing.
And yet, with her, I’m different. Hard as fuck but relaxed. Enjoying myself without the itch—the need to get my hands dirty.
Like now.
I should be in London and putting a bullet between her old man’s eyes. Killing the three men he brought with him, especially the one with a wandering eye. Eyes that continuously strayed toward my Gem.
Covet (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 2) Page 6
