Tempting Little Tease, Page 3

  Most weekends, I don’t even bother getting out of my pajamas, spending lazy days sprawled across my bedroom floor, scrolling through travel blogs on my laptop, and dog-earing pages in any one of the dozens of Italian travel guides I have stacked next to the bed. Sure, I love the nightlife in Boston, but fifty hours a week of chasing the little devils I look after warrants a bit of time to recharge and plan my Italian adventure. Well, not to be confused with the Italian adventure that kissed the living daylights out of me last night.

  But this Saturday isn’t a day for flipping through travel guides. Since I sacrificed my usual routine of enjoying wine and reality TV with Deanna on Friday for an evening out with one of the richest men in Boston, I promised Deanna a full day of thrift shopping to make up for it.

  We’re doing our best to squeeze out every last minute of best-friend time before I board the plane. I’ve never been in a long-distance relationship, but I get the feeling that being an ocean away from Deanna will be similarly taxing. She and I haven’t spent more than a week at a time apart since we met at a foreign-language-department barbecue our freshman year of college. I was there to meet other students in the department, and she was there to snag a free burger.

  This is pretty typical of our dynamic. Deanna is spontaneous and bold, the perfect college bestie who dragged me to parties and karaoke nights when I had spent one-too-many weekends with my nose contentedly buried in the pages of Plato or Seneca. She brings out the wilder side of me, the side that does things like buy a one-way ticket to Italy or, apparently, go on a date with a handsome billionaire who was born in a decade that I only know as a theme for a fraternity party.

  Deanna’s signature three honks announce her arrival in my driveway as I’m brushing my teeth, still in my pajamas.

  Shit. Piling my hair into a messy bun, I throw on leggings and a cozy tee that I stole from her and I’m out the door, not even caring I’m fresh-faced without makeup. Deanna isn’t someone I have to work to impress. She loves me just as I am. It’s pretty much amazing.

  “Good morning, sunshine!”

  I climb into the passenger seat of her tiny red two-seater and am greeted with some unrecognizable electronic song shaking the whole car. Deanna’s short blonde hair is pushed back in a headband and a gray sweater drapes over her frame, instantly making me feel better about my lazy getup. She sips at her coffee, handing me a matching to-go cup. I take a sip—skim chai latte, my absolute favorite. Can I just take this girl to Italy with me? She’s like the wife I need in my life.

  As she shifts the car into reverse, Deanna turns down the music enough that we can talk over it without yelling. “So, spill. How was dinner with the Italian stallion?”

  I nearly spit chai latte all over the dashboard. “Oh, my God, I’m not telling you anything if you call him that.”

  “Yeah, right.” Deanna rolls her eyes, chuckling.

  We haven’t spared each other a single detail of our romantic encounters in all four years of our friendship. She would never let me start now, even if there is something about Quinn that makes me want to keep him all to myself.

  “It was great. Like, really great. I’d never been to a restaurant where the prices are so high that they don’t even list them.”

  Deanna rolls her eyes. “A little less menu, a little more men. Skip to the good stuff, please.”

  I half smile and take a swig of my chai latte, mentally fast-forwarding through an evening of trying to focus on Quinn’s beautiful broken Italian while wishing I was the rim of the wineglass between his lips. I give Deanna what she wants to hear.

  “He’s smart, and funny and sweet. Honestly, I have no idea how he’s still single.”

  “Yeah, that is sort of weird.” She’s watching the road, but I don’t miss the way her eyes narrow slightly as she thinks it over.

  “But it was great talking to someone so intelligent and charming.” Bantering with him in Italian still brings a smile to my face.

  Deanna nods, listening.

  “And he’s an amazing kisser.”

  Slamming the heels of her hands excitedly on the wheel, Deanna accidentally honks her horn a few times. The guy in the minivan at the stoplight next to us looks over, totally confused, but Deanna doesn’t seem to care. As soon as the light turns green, she makes a hard-left turn into the parking lot of our favorite thrift store, letting out an excited squeal.

  “Damn, Aly. Making out with a billionaire. I’m so proud. And slightly jealous.”

  She parks the car and lets the song finish as we down the rest of our coffees. I put my story on pause for the sake of caffeine. Priorities.

  The store is empty other than the woman behind the counter, who seems pretty wrapped up in her sudoku puzzle, so I don’t even bother keeping my voice down as I recount the details of my evening. As we thumb through racks of vintage dresses and faux-leather jackets, I give her the full play-by-play, including every detail from the way Quinn’s chocolate-brown eyes traced my hips when I walked into the restaurant, to the taste of pinot noir on his lower lip. A hot shiver races along my skin at the memory of our kiss. I’d never been kissed like that, so sure and demanding. He knew exactly what he was doing—commanding his body, and in turn, mine.

  As I talk, I realize it’s awfully refreshing to tell a story of an encounter with a guy that doesn’t include an unsolicited dick pic or an impressive beer-pong performance.

  “I could get used to this older-man thing pretty damn quickly,” I admit, feeling the blood rushing to my cheeks as I say it. I can’t believe I’m so smitten already.

  “Like, three weeks quickly?” Deanna tosses a dress at me. It’s black and lacy and ultra-short, erring on the side of lingerie.

  “I sort of maybe didn’t mention the moving-to-Italy thing last night,” I confess, holding the dress up to me. “It didn’t really come up.”

  “Okay, sure, nowhere in your dinner conversation that was half-spoken in Italian did it come up that you’re moving to Italy. Sounds legit. Go try that on; you’d look hot in it.”

  Deanna follows me into the fitting room—we’re way beyond the point of personal boundaries. I throw my clothes in a pile in the corner and step into the dress, which fits better than a glove, more like a second skin. She zips me in and lets out a wolf whistle as we both get a look at my reflection in the mirror. It’s tight in the best kind of way, the stretchy material clinging to my hips and ass, and the black lace frames the perfect amount of cleavage.

  “All I’m saying is if I were him and my Italian tutor showed up looking like that, I’d double up on lessons,” Deanna says with a wink.

  I imagine myself slipping this on before my next meeting with Quinn, almost certain he would slip it off me before the lesson even started. I do only have three weeks, after all.

  Chapter Four

  Quinn

  The next week starts off with a bang, all because of a particularly high-powered client who can’t be bothered to settle his bill.

  My brothers and I try to avoid doing business with men like him who think that their status is payment enough. Over the years, we’ve become more selective when it comes to our clients, precisely for reasons like this. But even despite our best efforts to weed out the stingy pricks, every once in a while one of them worms his way into our system. In those cases, we’re forced to track him down and remind him that the pretty little thing on his arm is only there because he’s paying her, and by paying her, I mean paying us.

  When I suggest that we stay late one night to put an end to this issue, the two of them exchange a look.

  “Can’t,” Cooper says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Corinne’s making lasagna tonight. It’s one of our traditions.”

  I groan and roll my eyes before turning to Gavin. “What’s your excuse?”

  “No mushy traditions.” Gavin shrugs. “I just want to fuck my wife, and she’s less in the mood when I get home late.”

  I shake my head. “Fine. Let’s take a problem that could be solved i
n one night and drag it out for the rest of the week. Great plan, douchebags.”

  But not even my sarcasm can pop the bubble of happiness both my brothers are in because of their marriages. Those little fuckers. Gavin and Emma are coming up on their second anniversary, and Cooper and Corinne are newlyweds, but things have changed so much already.

  Cooper, Gavin, and I spend the next few days playing phone tag and negotiating with the client. In the old days, we would have been able to knock it all out in one night, but Cooper and Gavin are both so happily married, they choose to drag the process out a few days just so they can go home to their wives each night at a decent time and revel in their wedded bliss.

  I’m happy for the assholes, but marriage has definitely made them soft.

  • • •

  By Thursday, I realize that the sting of jealousy I feel toward my brothers has everything to do with Alessandra. We’ve only been on a single date, but I can already tell there’s something different about her.

  Hell, the fact that we went on a date at all is evidence enough that she’s special. I’ve had plenty of experience with women, but those escapades rarely ever made it out of the bedroom. It’s not that I don’t want to do those same things to Alessandra—you can’t imagine the things I’ve fantasized about doing to her—but no matter how powerful my desire is for her, I can’t silence the small voice in the back of my head telling me I’m in serious danger of falling.

  That’s why I’m determined to take it slow with this girl. Or, at least, slower than I would normally take it.

  Sitting at my desk, I hear a gentle knock on my office door. Six p.m. on the dot, right on time. I stand up to open the door, but I’m immediately stopped by a strange feeling in my stomach.

  Were those butterflies? Jesus, Quinn, get your shit together.

  I take a deep breath and stretch out my neck. For as excited as I am to spend more time with Alessandra, I’m not too pleased with the effect she’s having on me.

  When I open the door to my office, it takes everything in me not to immediately sweep her into my arms and place a kiss on her lips. She’s intoxicating. Her dark hair is piled loosely on top of her head, and a few stray curls perfectly frame her face. She looks up at me with cautious-yet-playful eyes, obviously waiting for me to invite her in.

  “Benevenuto.” I smile, stepping aside and ushering her in.

  As Alessandra walks past me, I can’t help but take in every inch of her nubile body, the way her perfect ass fills out her dark blue jeans. She even smells amazing, somewhat floral and sweet. She sets her bag in one of the chairs by my desk and stands by the windows, just like she did the first day she came here.

  I close the door behind me and take a moment before joining her. As I take in the full sight of her, my cock twitching in approval, I rack my brain for the small bit of Italian I’ve been practicing all week for this very moment.

  “Tu mi toglie il fiato,” I say, closing the distance between us. You take my breath away.

  Alessandra turns and smiles at me, her eyes wide and playful. “Grazie mille,” she replies, sizing me up. “You’ve been practicing.”

  “You make me want to practice,” I say, my voice low and serious.

  The smile fades from her face and she arches a single perfect brow. “Do I make you want to do anything else?” she asks, taking a step closer so our faces are only inches apart.

  Holy fuck.

  Without speaking, I wrap her slender frame in my arms, crushing my mouth against hers in a hungry, searching kiss. After a moment’s hesitation, Alessandra responds by pressing her hips into me and moving her tongue in rhythm with mine. It’s beyond perfect.

  We continue kissing, our hands moving over each other’s bodies, until Alessandra suddenly pulls back and looks at me with wide, concerned eyes.

  “Should we be kissing in your office?” she asks, looking nervously over her shoulder. “I just realized I know nothing about office etiquette, and I really don’t like the idea of you getting in trouble because I’m too horny to keep my tongue in my own mouth while I tutor you.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she grimaces, obviously embarrassed by what she just said.

  I chuckle softly, trying not to make her feel any worse, even though she has no reason to be embarrassed. She has no idea how adorable she is. Or how fucking sexy it is to hear the word horny come out of her mouth.

  I pull her back into me and place a hand on her cheek. “Alessandra,” I whisper, running my thumb over her jaw, “you’re forgetting one very important thing. I’m the boss around here. You’d have to do many worse things with your tongue for either of us to get in trouble.”

  She smiles, looking down for a moment before her gaze flits back to mine. When we lock eyes, I imagine all the things she could do with her tongue. My cock twitches again, and by the way she arches her brow, this time Alessandra can feel it. She wraps her arms even tighter around me, pressing her body more purposefully against my bulge. Within moments, her lips are moving feverishly against mine, soft moans escaping from her lips as I move my thigh between her legs.

  Suddenly, we’re interrupted by Alyssa’s bright and chipper voice over the intercom. “Quinn, your brother is here to see you.” She may be the world’s most efficient assistant, but her timing is horrendous.

  Alessandra pulls away from me, her eyes wide and embarrassed. “Oh, my God,” she mutters quietly under her breath. She pulls a compact out of her purse and groans as she examines the state of her hair. “We’re so busted.”

  “Everything’s fine. We’re not doing anything wrong,” I say, though to be honest, I find her little freak-out adorable.

  “Yeah? Tell that to your tie. And you might want to wipe the lipstick off your face before letting your brother in.”

  So full of life. So fucking sexy.

  As Alessandra continues fixing her hair, I straighten my tie and walk to the door, while I surreptitiously run the back of my hand over my mouth in case Alessandra wasn’t just teasing me about the lipstick.

  I open the door to find Cooper standing there, a bemused smile spreading across his face.

  “Yes?” I say, deliberately blocking the doorway. I haven’t told my brothers about my new Italian tutor, and while I’m by no means ashamed of Alessandra, I’m more than a little aware of our age difference. I don’t want to put unnecessary pressure on her by introducing her to my family.

  “Have a minute? I wanted to run the final numbers on this jackass so we can tuck his file away for good,” Cooper says, trying to walk around me into my office.

  “Now’s not a good time. I’m in the middle of an Italian lesson.”

  “Sal’s here? How’s he doing? God, I haven’t seen that guy in forever,” Cooper says, peeking around me.

  I love my brother, but he can be a nosy little fucker sometimes.

  “Not Sal,” Alessandra says from behind me, her voice light and playful.

  Cooper raises his eyebrows. Without saying a word, he pushes past me into my office.

  “I’m Alessandra. It’s nice to meet you,” she says, holding out her hand to him.

  “Piacere di conoscerti,” Cooper says, shaking her hand and bowing slightly.

  I know he only said nice to meet you, but the playful glint in his eye rubs me the wrong way.

  “You Kingsley brothers must have been keeping Sal busy.” Alessandra chuckles, her eyes bright and cheery.

  After seeing how nervous she was to be caught in the middle of making out, I’m in awe of how quickly she pulled herself together. Brilliant, beautiful, and good under pressure? This woman is making it nearly impossible not to fall for her.

  Cooper laughs and shakes his head. “I had a particularly memorable vacation in Italy years ago.”

  Alessandra smiles, and Cooper gives me a questioning look.

  “I’ll get out of your hair. See you at dinner this Sunday,” he says, turning and walking to the door. Before leaving, he stops and looks back at Alessandra. “Will you be th
ere? Sal never could make it, but it’s nice getting to know the people who are regularly coming in and out of our building.”

  Alessandra looks at me, her eyes wide and curious. “Oh, I don’t think so,” she says, but I cut her off.

  “No, that’s a great idea. You should come.” I give her my most reassuring smile.

  Cooper nods, tells us he’ll see us Sunday, and promptly exits the room, leaving Alessandra and me to discuss what just happened.

  “Quinn, if it’s too complicated to have me there, I really don’t have to come.” She plops herself down in one of the chairs in front of my desk and rakes her fingers through her hair.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” I say, sitting in the chair next to her. “I understand if it feels like a lot, but I like spending time with you, and I want to do more of that.”

  Alessandra nods, though she still looks unsure. “Okay. I’d love to.”

  “Good. It’s settled.” I shift in my seat, so painfully aware of her that for the first time, I realize that actually concentrating on learning a foreign language is going to be difficult. “Iniziamo?” I ask. Shall we begin?

  Alessandra nods, and we launch into a friendly conversation that I barely manage to keep clean.

  I need to up my game at flirtatious Italian phrases.

  By the time our hour is up, Alessandra rises to her feet, placing the strap of her purse high on her slender shoulder, and a rock settles in the pit of my stomach.

  “What are you doing Saturday?” I blurt. “There’s an art exhibit featuring classic Italian artists at the museum. Want to meet for coffee and go check it out? Late morning, maybe? We could breakfast if you like.”

  I smile and imagine the two of us huddled together at a small café table, laughing over my Italian accent. It’s a cheesy daydream, I know, but I can’t deny how much I’ve enjoyed this gorgeous woman’s presence in my life.

  Alessandra smiles softly at me, but I note a touch of hesitation as she speaks. “That sounds lovely, Quinn,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “But there’s something I need to tell you.”