She thought it might be nice to declare her own version of détente, though for some reason she didn’t know how to implement it.
“And what did you find out about me?” She lifted a brow.
He paused, taking a deep sigh. “I learned you lost your mamma at a young age and that she was a kind woman who did lots of wonderful charitable deeds.”
Gisele nodded. That would be an understatement. Her mother spent many hours each week volunteering with the most underserved people in society. She helped teach women in prison to read. She taught English as a Second Language to immigrants. She knitted blankets for orphaned babies. She helped poor people with rides to the hospital for chemotherapy and radiation treatments. Her mother was a powerhouse of a woman and had packed a lot of living into her short life.
“What else did you learn?”
“That your father must have taken up with a much younger woman.” He tilted his head toward her. “I’m sorry, Gisele.”
She shook her head. It was never something she wanted to talk about. Life was much easier when he was no longer a part of it. Remembering how he’d abandoned his family, how her mother sobbed herself to sleep each night, it was too painful for Gisele to resurrect.
“Anything else, while you were snooping around?”
“Looks like you lettered in varsity soccer one year.” He smiled and picked up the pom-pom. “But I was more intrigued by this, trying to imagine you in a cute little cheerleader costume.”
All that insight, and then in typical male fashion, it comes down to some twisted sexual fantasy. Although perhaps twisted was the wrong word. More like imaginative. She closed her eyes and thought about if she was truly brave, how she could dig into the bowels of her closet and unearth that cheerleading uniform. Maybe she could chant a cheer or show him how limber she was by doing a split or two. Then she’d see a rise from that snake-charming bath towel of his.
Although maybe she was the real snake charmer. Maybe it was the idea of her that had aroused him so much. And his arousal had, in turn, dampened her panties. Make that, soaked them.
She extended her arm and motioned with her finger for him to turn around.
Tomasso looked at her, his eyes questioning. She simply nodded and twirled her finger again.
He reached his arms out to the side, then slowly turned around, giving Gisele a 360-degree view of Tomasso Romeo in almost all his glory.
She nodded once more, then stepped into the room, close enough to reach out her hand and pull the towel out where it had been tucked in, barely securing it to his waist. The towel dropped, revealing his ever-hardening cock.
“Put your hands on it.” She pointed at him.
He knit his brows but followed her orders and wrapped both hands around his erection. He could barely disguise how good it must have felt, with relief washing over his face.
“I want to watch you,” she said, settling herself on the bed, leaning against the pillows. She kicked her boots off and made herself comfortable as though preparing to watch the TV in front of her, while Tomasso stood before her, waiting for her instructions.
“Go on, I want you to make yourself come.”
Chapter Fourteen
Tomasso groaned. What an impertinent, sassy little minx Miss Gisele Hornsby was. Gisele Horny. He liked that name much better. In a million years he never would have expected such a directive from her lips. He felt relieved she didn’t want him to stand against the wall while she aimed darts at his dick. No. She wanted him to masturbate while she watched: reward instead of punishment for his bad deeds. Well, what the lady wants...
He stood before her, feeling a bit like a male stripper, only with nothing to strip off. He was perfectly comfortable in his own body, though never before had he actually jacked off for an audience. But he was game for anything.
He licked his hand, then rubbed his palm on the tip of his cock to capture the moisture that had already gathered there. Wrapping his fist around himself, he tugged and pulled, twisting his wrist as his cock hardened even more beneath his fingers. Soon, his other hand reached down to play with his balls, and in no time, he felt them tighten as his arousal gained steam in his body, his desire to come coupled with his latent fantasy of having Gisele finish what she’d started back in Monaforte, with her warm, soft, wet lips sliding over his head, slipping down the hard length of him, sucking hard, pulling the come from deep within him. Christ, he’d thought about that a hundred times since that night, and here she was, so close yet so far.
His hand moved faster and he opened his eyes to see Gisele transfixed on him, her eyes scanning the hard planes of his abdomen, the rapid play of his hands on his dick. He could feel the momentum overtaking him and his knees grew weak as he tensed, shouting out her name as he came in jerking streams across his stomach and fingers. It was hard to recall a time he felt more turned on than he did putting on that show for her, fully dressed, on her throne of pillows, purely a spectator but obviously enjoying every minute of it herself.
~*~
Gisele hadn’t quite considered the follow-through on this one. What does one do after ordering a naked man to masturbate in front of you in your bedroom? Was there official protocol for this?
What she actually desired was to crook her finger and beckon him to come to her and work his magical fingers—the ones he’d so brilliantly used on himself—to bring her to climax as well. Because if her panties were damp before, they were soaking now, after she’d watched with bated breath as he brought himself to orgasm.
He stood there, his eyes fixed on hers, almost defying her to make the next move. But she froze, unable to stand down from her own obstinate position. Finally, he yielded.
“I think I might need to clean up a bit, so, if you’ll excuse me.” He backed out of the room, bending over to grab his towel as he left.
Well, that wasn’t exactly what she’d planned for when she’d come home late. Here she thought she’d throw together a quick dinner and go to sleep. Instead, she was going to simmer just below the boiling point for the rest of the night.
Chapter Fifteen
Tomasso had been prepping his wood for the past several days to get started on his figurehead. He’d laminated planks of island beech, glued them together in stages, making sure the wood grain fell correctly in areas of detailed carving such as the head and hands. Once the pieces were laminated into a large block, he used a chainsaw to remove large pieces to get the wood into workable condition. Embedded into the body of the figurehead were steel plates—between the shoulder blades and behind the knees—so he had to take care not to strike that with his saw.
Once he had the general shape, he began using smaller tools to finesse the wood into the shapes he wanted. It was essential to make sure the proportions were correct and that bones and muscles would appear the way they would on a real person. For the initial carve, he would leave everything larger scale since he could always carve away the excess to achieve the final proportions.
He was excited about this project and knew in his gut it would be his best yet. Which meant that each day, he arrived earlier to allow himself more time to dedicate to it, and each night he left even later. The upside was that it took his mind off Gisele. At this point, he hardly trusted himself alone with her in the house after what had transpired last week. He’d like nothing more than to turn the tables on her, but unless things radically changed, he’d never have the opportunity. He was nothing if not resourceful, though. He’d find a way to pierce her armor. It just might take awhile.
He’d spent his entire Saturday at the warehouse and was famished. He stopped at a store on the way back to grab ingredients for dinner, picked up a bottle of wine, and planned to kick back with a book for the evening. He’d brought in firewood earlier in the week. With any luck, Gisele would be out and he could make a fire in the living room and relax with no hassles for being in her breathing space.
He climbed the steps of the brownstone and kicked off excess snow from his hiking boot
s before entering the house. It was silent, but for the whir of the furnace. He took that as an all-clear sign that he could cross the demilitarized zone and use the entire kitchen.
Once in the kitchen, he began prepping his meal, chopping basil and parsley, sautéing garlic and shallots in olive oil, searing sausage in another pan. He put the water on to boil for the fresh pasta he’d purchased, then added some shrimp to the garlic mixture, shaking the hot pan repeatedly until they turned pink under his ministrations. He threw in some chopped tomatoes, a splash of clam juice, then put the pasta on to boil while the sauce cooked down for a few minutes. He took advantage of the lag time to open a bottle of Chianti Riserva before tossing in the basil and parsley. As the pasta drained, he added a few tablespoons of starchy pasta water to the sauce to thicken it up a bit, then mixed the pasta with it all.
He was so busy, with his back to the doorway, that he didn’t even hear anyone entering the kitchen.
“Well, well, well,” said a sultry woman’s voice. “If it’s not tall, dark, and packing.”
He turned to see a lithe, statuesque woman with cascading dark hair that fell in waves over her shoulders. She had deep brown eyes, high cheekbones, and wore a bright slash of cherry red on her lips, which she licked sensuously.
“I’d heard you were a man of good taste, but I thought that meant you tasted particularly delicious.” She laughed at her joke and took a few steps toward him, extending her hand. “Forgive the intrusion. I’m Sophie Pellegrino. I work with Gisele. We have plans for this evening, so I decided to swing by and pick her up to make things simpler. Little did I know I’d meet the international man of mystery! I’m so excited. And now I can report that Gisele grossly underestimated your sex appeal.” She eyed him up and down as if she was about to take a bite. “And what have we here?” She reached for a spoon next to the pan and dipped it in, lifting it to her lips to taste. “Oh, God.” Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she dipped the spoon in a second time. “I hope this isn’t rude of me to double dip, but seriously, I need to taste this again.”
Tomasso nodded at her. “You approve, then?”
“Oh, honey.” She slapped her arm against his shoulder. “Not only do I approve, I might try to bring you home with me, so you can make this for me. Like every day.”
Tomasso tipped the bowl he’d filled toward her. “Be my guest.”
She put her hands up in the air. “But it’s your dinner. I couldn’t take that from you.”
“No worries. There’s plenty more where that came from. Go ahead. Buon appetito.” He poured her a glass of wine and motioned for her to sit down at the kitchen bar with him.
“And he speaks such perfect Italian,” Sophie said as if speaking to an audience.
“I suppose we’ve not formally met,” he said. “I’m Tomasso. Tomasso Romeo.”
She grinned as she slipped a forkful of pasta past her bright red lips. “Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou?” She fluttered her eyelashes playfully. “I am going to have to ask Miss Gisele where she’s been hiding you. And why.”
Her text message dinged and she held up a finger to Tomasso.
“If you’ll forgive me for one moment, I need to let Justin in.”
Tomasso could hear a commotion at the front door and soon Sophie returned with a man.
“Justin, this is the hunk Gisele has been keeping from us. All the way from Italy—as in the land of handsome Italian men—mind you. Tomasso, meet Justin, my assistant.”
He shook his head. “Assistant producer. There’s a big difference.” He sized up Tomasso and let out a whistle.
“Right?” Sophie said with a conspiratorial nod. “That Gisele needs to have her head examined.”
Tomasso could only imagine what she was talking about, but he did presume Giselle would be less than happy when she found him befriending her work colleagues.
“I don’t suppose there’s any minuscule chance you bat for the home team?” Justin said, his eyes imploring.
“That’s a baseball reference, Justin,” Sophie said. “They play soccer in Italy. I think you might need to say ‘kick with the right foot’ or something like that.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Why don’t I just come out and ask if he likes men.”
“Based on what Gisele’s told me, I’m pretty sure it’s safe to say no.”
Tomasso lifted his eyebrow, wondering how much Sophie knew about the two of them. Perhaps they would provide the perfect segue he needed to get under her skin more easily.
Justin rifled through a few drawers till he found a fork, and stuck it into the dwindling pile of pasta on Sophie’s plate and took a bite. “Wow,” he said, his mouth full. “This man can cook too. Let’s find that girl and straighten her out.”
“Find what girl?” All three heads turned to see Gisele enter the room. She had on a short black leather dress with a lace overlay and thigh-high black boots that about made Tomasso’s legs turn to jelly. He immediately discarded his prior fantasy involving her sandals and decided he needed to see her with those boots and nothing else.
“Justin was just saying what an amazing cook and prime candidate for his team your Italian friend is,” Sophie said, drumming her fingernails on the granite countertop.
Gisele rolled her eyes. “This is why I don’t invite you over here. There’s absolutely no reason to mix boarders with pleasure.”
Sophie tsked her friend. “Now, now, Gisele.” She wagged her finger, chastening her. “I for one am most grateful to finally meet this boy wonder. Make that man wonder. I think he’s delightful. In fact, I vote we bring him along with us tonight. We could use a little excitement to spice up our otherwise dull social lives. In the interest of international relations, I say we invite Tomasso along for the ride. All in favor say aye.” She gave her friend a wink.
“Aye,” Sophie and Justin said in near unison.
Six sets of eyes settled on Gisele, whose lips were pursed shut.
“Aye.” Gisele, Sophie, and Justin turned to see Tomasso, his hand raised in approval. “Thanks so much for the invitation. I’d love to join you.”
Chapter Sixteen
“I cannot believe you betrayed me like this.” Gisele was giving her friend a hard time as they stood at the far end of the bar trying to flag one of the bartenders for drinks.
“Betray you? I was only trying to facilitate things for you because you seem incapable of figuring out how to do it yourself. As if it’s hard to figure out: insert tab A into slot B. And good God, I bet he’s got one hell of a tab A.”
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in him? Or his slot or tab or whatever.” Gisele growled as she handed the bartender her credit card and grabbed the four bottles of beer after she signed the receipt.
“Okay, so are you good if I try my hand at your Romeo?”
“Please. He’s not my Romeo.” Gisele took a long swig of beer as they worked their way through the crowd to the table in the back where the guys were sitting.
“In that case, I’ll consider him fair game.” Sophie tipped her beer bottle to her friend’s. “All’s fair in love and war.”
They returned to the table and Sophie settled into the seat nearest to Tomasso. She leaned her head close to his, and before long, the two were engrossed in conversation, beyond earshot over the throbbing sounds of electronica blaring in the background.
Soon Tomasso stood, grabbing Sophie’s hand and leading her out toward the throng of people dancing to the pulsing beat.
Gisele glared at Sophie once they faced away from her.
“I saw that,” Justin said.
“What?”
“That little green-eyed monster that just reared its ugly head.”
“What? You think I’m jealous or something?” Gisele feigned a yawn. “That’s preposterous.”
“So then you’re good if Sophie has her wicked way with the Italian Stallion?”
Gisele looked at him with a deadpan glare. She he
ld up her thumb, enumerating her point. “First of all, I know Sophie, and she would never do that to me.” She lifted her pointer finger. “Second, he’s not mine anyhow.”
Justin pointed a finger at her. “You said Sophie would never do that to you. But it isn’t doing anything to you if he’s not your man.”
Gisele shook her head and swilled her beer. “Gah! Would everyone please stop trying to make this something it’s not? We gave it a go and it didn’t work out. End of story. No big deal.”
They gazed out at the dance floor where Sophie and Tomasso seemed to be sinuously moving to the music as one, Sophie’s ass pressed to Tomasso’s crotch. What the hell?
“They look good together, don’t they?” Justin said, a sly grin breaking across his face.
“Absolutely perfect. I couldn’t have chosen a better couple.”
“I was just thinking that myself.”
“Fine. I hear you loud and clear. Enough!”
“Okay, then, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“You know, I think I’m ready to get out of here.”
“Wait—we can’t leave when they’re still out there.”
“I’m totally fine. Just stay put. I’m a big girl and I can handle myself, despite my brother’s beliefs to the contrary.” She stood and slipped into the crowd and disappeared out the door before Justin could even run after her.
She had a reason for not wanting to include that Rotten Romeo in her social life. Because now, nothing good was happening in her life—all because he’d invaded her space. Or had he found a tiny opening in the wall she’d built up? And was he invading her heart?
Chapter Seventeen
When Tomasso returned the next morning, it would have been nearly time for brunch had Gisele kept to her usual brunch plans, but instead she’d stayed in. She heard the front door open and decided it was her prerogative to confront him.
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