“Of course, your wife will be there too.” Gio smiled. “I promise not to look—or comment—if you should break public decency laws while dancing together.”
“Ha.” Tate aimed his beer bottle at his friend. “You and Valentina are more likely to get arrested for that than we are. I’ve been to a club with you before, remember.”
The other man rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “I know how to show a lady a good time.”
There was no way in hell Tate was going to touch that comment, so he dug into his pizza and let the conversation peter out. Definitely for the best. Tate and Karen had spent their year in Rome as roommates to Gio and Valentina, respectively, so they’d both listened to the passionate fights and loud make-up sex the couple had. As Karen had once mentioned—at that volume, there was no doubt that Valentina was enjoying herself.
Tate had no desire to reminisce on those old times.
There was no escaping him. Karen tried to hold in a groan. Tate had some sort of freakish sixth sense about when she was going to try to avoid him.
Or maybe she just wasn’t trying that hard.
She cringed as that thought rang with painful truth. They shared a cab to the dance club Valentina and Giovanni had picked for their joint stag night. How Tate had known exactly when Karen would step out of her room to leave, she had no idea. But a tingle had gone through her body as he’d taken in her outfit.
She had not dressed to impress him. She had not, damn it.
Tugging down the hem of her microscopic midnight blue dress, she stared out the window. It was just a good dress to dance in, that was all. It had a racerback and a high neckline, so she was unlikely to experience a wardrobe malfunction while bouncing around. The ruching up the sides complemented her figure, the shortness of the skirt made her legs appear longer than they actually were, and there was nothing wrong with looking nice. That didn’t mean it was for anyone other than herself—a confidence booster.
But the look in his eyes had made the extra effort on her appearance worth it. Wasn’t that the stupidest thing ever? His opinion shouldn’t matter in any way on anything. She wrinkled her nose at her reflection.
“We’re almost there.” He spoke for the first time since they’d gotten in the taxi.
She smoothed a hand over her dress. “Okay.”
“You’re quiet. Was everything all right with the family today?”
“Yes, of course.” She felt his gaze on her, but didn’t look at him. “The De Rossi clan has always been lovely to me. We still exchange Christmas cards, even twelve years after I left.”
The backseat seemed to get smaller and more intimate, his voice low and warm. “I’m glad you got to see them.”
“Me too. Especially while her grandmother was still around and had all her faculties in working order.” A smile tugged at her lips. “That woman is fabulous.”
“And terrifying.”
A laugh trickled out of her. “All part of her charm.”
He flicked his fingers against the tips of her hair. “Are you going to be terrifying as an old lady?”
She gave him an arch glance. “Naturally.”
“Your grandma seemed pretty normal.” His expression turned dubious. “I’m not sure you’re genetically predisposed to be terrifying.”
“Nature versus nurture.” She shrugged, glad they were on a light topic. “Valentina’s grandmother has nurtured my terrifying side.”
“I guess time will tell on that one.” His tone was so overly placating, she swatted his shoulder and he laughed. “So, how’s your parents’ road trip going? They’re doing an RV trek across Canada, right?”
“Yep, to celebrate Dad’s retirement.” She bit her lower lip. “Their internet and cell phone connectivity is limited, which I think drove them nutty the first few weeks, but they seem to be enjoying the ability to unplug and reconnect with each other now. Mom says they’re technologically roughing it for the first time since they were in the Peace Corps. I’m unsure if she meant that as a complaint or not.”
He shook his head. “You know how my mother would mean it. Then again, she and my father would never have volunteered to camp in an RV. Or anywhere else that didn’t have room service.”
Their families had been so different on every possible level. The vast disparity in income levels had been the easiest hurdle to overcome when they’d married. Karen fiddled with the clasp on her slender evening bag. “Yeah, well. Ben says when this three-month jaunt is over, our parents will either be divorcing or renewing their vows.”
“Renewing their vows, no doubt. Your parents are in it for the long haul.”
“So are yours.” Francesca and Robert were never splitting up, no matter how unhappy they were. But then again, maybe the life they had was their version of happiness. Karen didn’t want to judge a relationship she wasn’t in, but what they had was the antithesis of her idea of a good marriage. Unfortunately, it was almost the marriage she’d gotten. Relief swept through her at having escaped such a fate.
“Yeah, but your parents actually like each other.” Tate reached out to brush a fingertip along her jawline, and she shivered with awareness. “I couldn’t have asked for better in-laws.”
Whereas she had tried to avoid hers as much as possible. “Thanks, I think.”
“I wish I could have offered you better.”
“I love Laurel,” she replied sincerely. No need to bring up how little she’d liked his parents. They were just too different, too cold, too brittle. They weren’t bad people, they just weren’t her kind of people, and that had nothing to do with money or class.
“There you go.” He tapped that finger against her chin. “I gave you the sister you never had. Though I think your best friends filled that gap long before Laurel did.”
“There’s always room for one more sister-friend.” And Laurel had a fearlessness and outrageousness that had endeared her to Karen the moment they’d met.
“Good.” There was a momentary pause. “Does your family know about you being here in Rome?”
“Yes, I emailed my brother and parents to let them know where I am. I mentioned you were here, and they were concerned your presence would upset me, but I assured them I was fine and said I was exploring my old foreign exchange haunts.” She shifted on the seat. “I also spoke to my friends on Skype.”
“So they know everything.”
It was a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway. “Yep. The drunken unprotected sex, the possible pregnancy, the unwise foreign affair. All of it.”
He cleared his throat. “About the possible pregnancy. When will you—”
“In a few days, maybe.” Not exactly a lie. Technically, she should have started her period today, but since she’d stopped taking the Pill, she wasn’t one hundred percent regular. “I’ll tell you when I know anything.”
That much was true, at least. She would never keep that kind of thing from anyone. Well, maybe if she’d had a boozy accidental one-night stand with an axe murderer. Then she probably wouldn’t tell the father of her baby. And the kid would be told he or she had a goat herder for a dad. Or something like that.
“Thank you,” he said.
She nodded. “Mmm-hmm.”
“It’s going to be okay. No matter what.” He reached over, caught her hand and squeezed her fingers. “Just remember that, all right?”
Her throat clogged with emotion she didn’t want. The feeling of reassurance, of support from him, was so like it used to be that it sent a lance of sheer pain straight to her heart. It’s just an affair, Karen. Emotion has no place here. Knock it off. She steeled herself and tugged her hand away. “You can stop with the touchy-feely supportiveness, Tate. It’s not necessary.”
“It’s going to be necessary if you’re pregnant,” he stated flatly. “I’m not bailing out on any child of mine.”
“I know. But that’s not a discussion we need to have until we know something. Our chances are slim anyway, so let’s not freak out unless w
e have to.”
“So you’re hoping you’re not pregnant.” The words were brittle, almost upset.
She stared at him. “You’re hoping the same thing. You’ve never been particularly keen on having kids, and that’s not even factoring in how this might complicate our divorce proceedings.”
Instead of responding to her, he seemed to sigh in relief. “We’re here.”
“Fantastic.” She was more than ready for this conversation to be over with. Because she wasn’t sure at all if she didn’t want to be pregnant with his child. She’d wanted that for so long—she’d wanted a lot of things for so long—and it was bittersweet to think it might happen after their marriage was over. Her logic told her she was a lot better off with an anonymous sperm donor, her heart said she wanted Tate as her baby-daddy.
It was just too damn bad she was off alcohol for the time being. She could use the biggest cocktail in history right about now.
Tate hopped out of the cab, held the door open and offered her a hand to help her stand on the uneven cobblestones. Her heels were higher and pointier than usual, but that was what one wore with a dress like this. She let him hold her arm until they got to the smooth flooring of the discoteca and then made herself slip away.
The wedding was tomorrow, she’d be gone a few days after that, and she just needed to calm down, get her rampaging emotions in check, and everything would be fine.
Striding into the club, she kept a look out for her friends. Of course, they were already out on the dance floor busting a move. She grinned as Valentina’s hips swiveled in a way that flouted the laws of nature.
“Amico mio!” Gio shouted, giving Tate hug and a kiss on each cheek. He did the same to Karen.
Valentina grabbed her hands and twirled her in a little circle. They laughed, and Karen let the music take her away. The world narrowed down to hard bass, perspiration beading on her skin and the visceral need to move.
The group formed a loose circle, Karen between two of Gio’s female cousins. She didn’t know how much time passed. After the first few songs, she was just dancing, giggling with everyone, shouting to be heard over the music as everyone made comments or joked or teased. Valentina’s male cousin flirted with Karen outrageously, but that meant nothing to an Italian, and he was barely twenty years old. She was pretty sure men in this country started flirting from the cradle.
They broke into smaller pairs and trios as more people entered the club and hit the dance floor, making the place hot and sweaty, but energy was pulsing through the air. It was electric and fun and no one wanted to leave the floor. Tate and Gio went to get bottles of water for everyone else, but that was as close to a break as anyone took.
One song blended into another, and Karen glanced over to see the bride and groom tearing up the floor while hard music thumped through the massive room. The couple executed a few moves that Karen was pretty sure were illegal outside a strip joint. When she looked away, her gaze collided with Tate’s.
Rolling his eyes, he looked amused. He took a step forward and bent to speak into her ear. “Only those two.”
“Exactly. What were we thinking when we introduced them?”
He cracked up, as she’d known he would. He’d once asked her that same question in college when he’d had to dodge the Italian duo doing exhibitionist naughtiness in his living room. He gave her the answer she’d given him back then. “We thought they’d be perfect for each other. And we were right.”
“No doubt.” She nodded.
“Let’s show them how it’s done.” He grabbed her hand and whipped her into a quick spin, then dipped her over his arm. She came up laughing, clinging to his neck. She’d forgotten that his parents had made him take ballroom dancing classes as a teen, and that he was pretty light on his feet. When he drew her arm over her head and whirled her around a few times, she went with it. This trip was supposed to be easy and fun, and that was all she’d let it be.
Tate guided her into a few more turns, his teeth flashing in a grin. When she bumped into Gio, he made a face at her. “You two are showing us up!”
“Poor baby.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
Eyes shining with mirth, Valentina caught her fiancé’s arm. “Come on. Less talking, more dancing!”
The two demonstrated a few wild antics, including one move that should have been reserved for a pole dancing routine, but then Valentina planted her mouth on Gio’s and that pretty much meant he didn’t care who was showing him up.
Tate leaned down and chuckled in Karen’s ear. “At least neither of us has to share an apartment with them anymore, or we’d be in for some voyeurism tonight. Or would it be just exhibitionism? I think it would depend on how much you enjoy watching or being watched while you come, right?”
His breath rush over her skin as he spoke, cooling the perspiration there, and a shudder ran through her. Having him talk about coming while he was pressed against her back and she could feel every inch of his muscular body was sheer torture. They were still moving, still dancing, still in sync, but now the slow rub of him against her felt less playful and more provocative.
“What do you think, Karen?” His arm came around her and he splayed his fingers over her midriff.
Heat bubbled in her veins, and she let her head fall back on his shoulder. She felt his erection rise, pressing into her ass. What had he asked? How could he expect her to think about anything right now? “Um… No one’s ever watched me come unless they were in bed with me.”
“Ah.” She heard a smile in his voice, and his tone deepened to pure sin. “Should I do less talking and more dancing too?”
“Yes.” Dancing would be good—sweet friction, lovely fire burning within her, some muscles loosening, others tightening. The music filled her, made her move with him, against him, with no thought for anything or anyone else. There was no future, no past, just this moment with this man. Everything was hot sensation and shocking need. God, it felt good.
His fingertips began drifting along the midline of her stomach—down, down, down until he skimmed the edge of her lace panties, then up, up, up until he slid into her cleavage and she wished that he’d cup and squeeze her breasts, toy with her taut nipples. The rhythm of the song seeped into her blood, and her heart was racing. They rocked together, his hard cock nudging into the cleft of her buttocks. Her sex clenched on emptiness, and shivers ran through her. She wanted, needed, craved.
“Tate,” she whimpered. She caught his wandering hand, her nails digging into his flesh in an attempt to convey the lust rocketing through her body. “I want you. Please.”
“Yes. Come with me.” He latched onto her wrist and pulled her away from the dance floor. Not that she struggled, because she’d come with him anywhere at this point.
The bathroom was unisex, so either of them could use it, but she was guessing it wasn’t supposed to have multiple people in it at the same time. He pushed her inside and locked the door behind them.
Her lungs heaved as she struggled to breathe. She should put a stop to this right now, but she wasn’t going to. Sanity was far beyond her grasp. “If you don’t have a condom with you, Patton, I will murder you for bringing me in here.”
“Luckily, I’m covered.” He fished a rubber out of his wallet and twirled it between his fingers. “Or I will be.”
“Thank. God,” she said.
His arm snaked around her waist and hauled her against him. He slammed his mouth down over hers, his tongue shoving between her lips. She fisted her fingers in his hair, matching him stroke for stroke as their tongues twined. Her excitement ratcheted higher and wetness slicked her sex. His thigh insinuated itself between hers, forcing her dress upward. The heavy muscles in his leg flexed, riding her pussy into his thigh. Her hips snapped in a frantic rhythm, tingles skipping down her skin, the first shimmer of climax arcing through her. She threw her head back, sobbing for air, and he took the opportunity to bite and lick and suck his way down her throat.
“Tate, I need to… I�
��m going to…” The words trailed off in a shameless moan.
A growl rumbled from his chest as he ripped himself away from her. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
She was so far gone that she didn’t even blink. Yes, she was absolutely going to get busy in a club bathroom. The tile was cold against her palms, sending a shiver through her that made her nipples peak tighter. She heard the rasp of his zipper as he unfastened his pants, the rip of him opening the condom, the rustle of him putting it on. With every second that passed, her need twisted inside her, her pulse pounding. He pushed her dress up until it bunched around her waist, then tugged her panties down just enough that they shackled her thighs together.
“I’m going to do you hard, Karen.” His voice was harsh with lust, and that excited her too.
“Yes.” Swift and maybe even a little rough was exactly what she craved.
It was the reverse of the night she’d tied him up, where she’d taken control. Tonight, she had no control—didn’t need it, didn’t want it. Now she was flying high on sensation, and she reveled in the pure feeling.
The head of his cock probed at her entrance, and then he pierced her in one quick plunge. A cry burst from her as he stretched her, filled her. His arms came around her, his left hand teasing and pulling at her nipples, his right hand diving into her slick folds to torment her swollen clit. He pistoned in and out of her, his pelvis slapping against her backside.
It was hard and fast and took her to the edge of sanity in seconds. She tried to widen her stance, tilt her hips to take him deeper, but the way her underwear twisted around her legs kept her exactly where he’d put her. Maddening and perfect all at once. His fingers sweeping over her clit in time with his thrusts made her bite her lip to keep from screaming. The throb of music probably would have covered the noise for anyone who didn’t have an ear pressed to the door, but she was beyond rationality. It was all reflex and reaction, sex and sweat.
Roman Reunion (Destination: Desire) Page 9
