With a glass bottle in one hand, and a reusable shopping bag slung over her shoulder, she beams at the sight of me. “I know this is a business meeting,” she starts, stepping into the suite, “but I promised you limoncello and tiramisu.”
Once she passes by me, I let out a small breath of air. Most women I’ve ever invited back to my hotel room either smell like the alcohol they’ve been drinking all night or a too-rich-for-my-taste perfume. The remnants of whatever Carina’s wearing linger in the air after she’s well past me. It’s terrifying how even just the very scent of her can pull me from any rational thinking.
How fitting, she smells like the ocean.
Naturally beautiful, and powerful enough to drown in if you’re not careful.
“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to order food,” I admit, closing the suite door. “I haven’t eaten supper.” A very tactful decision made earlier in the evening in the hopes that it would give Carina a reason to stay longer tonight.
“I haven’t either,” she says, taking her blazer off and placing it on the back of one of the chairs in the small sitting area. “Food sounds great.”
The fabric of her blouse hugs her body. Every curve. Every dip.
“The tiramisu is here though,” she continues, taking a plastic container out of the bag she’s placed on the same chair her blazer hangs over. “It seems silly to wait.”
“Dessert before supper? I like your style, Ms. Domenico,” I say. Then I grab two paper plates and two plastic forks and bring them over to the table. “Don’t mind the fancy dishware and utensils.”
“Wowww,” she teases, laughing.
As the sound fills the suite, I wish I could somehow bottle it up. Like the seashells that hold the sound of the ocean.
“I didn’t realize you were so high class, Mr. West. Do you have any fancy cups to match this fancy dishware? And, ice? We need ice.”
“Does this work?” I ask, laughing as I hold up two disposable plastic cups before bending down toward the small freezer tray compartment of the mini fridge. Something had told me earlier to stop by the ice machine down the hall. I’m glad I followed my instinct.
“You know,” Carina starts, as I drop a few ice cubes in each cup, “I didn’t realize your life was so glamorous.”
By the time I’ve gotten back up, she’s put a square of tiramisu on each plate. She’s standing, waiting, with a plate in her hand. I take the plate, though I don’t bother waiting until I’m sitting to take a bite.
“Bloody hell, Carina.” I groan as the flavors from the tiramisu dance around my palate. I haven’t had tiramisu this good since I was in Italy four years ago. “This is snog worthy.”
“Snog?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. Chuckling nervously, she picks up her glass of limoncello. “That doesn’t sound good.”
Fuck. This mouth of mine is going to get me in a load of trouble.
“Um, well…” I laugh. “It means kiss—not that I was saying I want to kiss you, the tiramisu is just so good. I wasn’t implying I want to kiss you.”
Jesus, mate. Stop talking. She’s going to be able to see right through your bullshit lies.
Because, that’s exactly what I was saying. Delicious tiramisu aside, of course I want to kiss her.
“That’s too bad,” she says with a shrug. A sly smile slowly spreads across her lips as she turns her back to me.
My eyes immediately land on one of my favorite parts of her, and I don’t bother to hide the fact that I’m looking at her ass when she turns to hand me a plastic cup half-full of the Italian lemon liqueur.
“Oh?” I question, taking the cup from her just to place it next to the plate of uneaten tiramisu I put on the table moments before. “And why’s that?”
I know I’m playing with fire right now.
But, I’m ready to bloody burn.
24
Carina
“Ryan,” I manage to whisper. The air around us feels heavier, making it harder to breathe. Or maybe it’s the anticipation of knowing what’s about to happen. As long as I let it.
I can stop it. Right now. Part of me still thinks I should stop it.
I just don’t want to.
I walked in the hotel room, feeling like I was on top of the world. I’d strutted my way up the hallway to Ryan’s suite like I was a Fashion Week model. The moment he opened the door—sleeves rolled up, tie loose around his neck—I was fucking done for.
Insta-mush: Just add Carina.
At this point, I think I can safely assume I wasn’t wrong about thinking these feelings are mutual. The wicked grin on his lips, as he closes the space between us, all but solidifies it.
“Yes, love?” he murmurs. His lips hover over mine as if they’re waiting for their invitation. “What do you want, Carina? You need to tell me.”
“Kiss me.” It’s not a command, but a plea.
And he answers immediately.
His lips crash into mine without hesitation. The sweet lemon zing of the limoncello on his tongue sends me on a new high I’ve never felt before. Eagerly, his hands move to the nape of my neck, pulling me closer to him. I let out the smallest moan against his lips, breaking our kiss for the first time. Ryan curses under his breath before he brings his lips back to mine. Instead of staying though, he starts slowly leaving behind a trail of kisses.
I’m hoping the grip I have on the bottom of the seat gives me some composure.
It doesn’t.
As his lips pause at the hem of my blouse, his fingers twist the first button out of its loop. The urgency of his motions snaps me out of the trance I’d been in since he mentioned kissing me.
As his fingertips continue to dance their way down my shirt, for one brief moment, I think about telling him that we should stop, that going any further wouldn’t be smart—and then he pushes the soft lace of my bra aside, simultaneously taking over.
Before I remember to exhale, he takes my nipple into his mouth. The soft sensation is lost somewhere between a nibble and a suck, and suddenly, being his is my only priority.
“Bedroom. Now.” His voice holds both demand and desperation in this moment, a mixture I’ve never heard escape his lips.
As he eyes me, the hunger I see in his gaze looks like it matches my own. And I have no choice but to follow him.
The momentarily lapse in our contact makes room for a sliver of anxiety to slide in.
What if he’s into some crazy, acrobatic sex? I should have picked up a Cosmo magazine on the way over here…
“Ryan, I have to be honest about something,” I blurt out, immediately wishing I hadn’t.
His eyes meet mine, concern replacing the want that had filled them just moments ago.
I want to eat my words and find my way back to the crazed longing.
But the other part of me…
“I, um, I don’t usually…it’s just been a while,” I say. “I haven’t been with anyone since Lina’s father. I just don’t want you to be disappointed if—”
“That’s enough,” he says, his tone conveying he couldn’t give a shit about any of that. He gifts me a smile I want to swallow, his eyes clouding over with what I can recognize now.