On Her Terms Page 4

  “Don’t...care,” she croaks out, her voice broken.

  “I told you I won’t be a gentleman next time.” She quivers harder, liking this little game I’m playing with her.

  Her eyes flash. “And I told you I don’t want you to.”

  “Then I won’t be so nice again.”

  “What...what will you do?”

  I drive into her, slam her against the mattress, my dick ready to explode. Heat zaps my balls and they tighten as I think about bending her over a log and taking her in the woods. “A naked woman in the woods, warned to stay away and choosing not to. Well, that woman might just find herself up against the Big Bad Wolf if she’s not careful.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, she comes all over my cock. I pinch my eyes shut as her heat seeps into my body, burns me from the inside out.

  “Fuck,” I murmur, and bury my face in her neck as she rides out the gripping waves. I pull out, slam back in again, and with her last few clenches, I let go on a growl.

  As I come and come and come, I collapse on top of her and breathe in the sweet smell of her skin. We’re both panting, taking deep, labored breaths, and we stay like that until my cock grows soft. I inch out of her, then I pull her to me, hold her close. For the last few months I’ve been all work and no play, but now that I’ve played with Brianna, I can’t help but want more. As I think about that, my cock starts thickening again. Brianna shimmies away, but I reach for her.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I ask as I pull her on top of me.

  She looks over her shoulder, glances at the door. “I was—”

  I drag her mouth to mine, kiss her deeply. No way is she getting out of here tonight. My cock grows against her body and she moans her approval. Oh yeah, we’re going to fuck until the sun comes up.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Brianna

  HOW COULD I have been so stupid?

  I shake my head and give myself a good hard lecture for falling for Luca’s charm and letting him seduce me into his bed. Or was it the other way around? I’m not sure. All I know is I was supposed to turn him on and leave him hanging, like he did to me all those years ago. I groan and pound the bed, but settle myself back down when Luca comes back from the bathroom. Shit, I wanted to be out of here before he finished. I close my eyes, pretend I’m sleeping until I can figure out what to do next, how to get myself out of this.

  Yeah, I made a mistake last night, but goddammit the sex was good. Better than good. It was fan-freaking-tastic. The best sex I’ve ever had. The second he put his mouth on my nipple, I had planned to put a stop to things, tell him who I was and bolt. But did I do that? Of course not. How could I? No one has ever worked my nipples quite like that before. I knew I had to see it through. Why shouldn’t I take what I want, on my terms? Unfortunately those terms weren’t supposed to include a stupid sleepover.

  The edge of the mattress dips, and I inch one eye open to find Luca sitting on the bed, a cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Morning,” he says. “Coffee?”

  “Like you even have to ask.” He grins and hands the mug over. I take a much-needed sip. “Thank you. You will be rewarded in heaven,” I say. He stands and my gaze roams his body. This morning he’s dressed in nothing but his jeans. Dammit, what is it about a guy in nothing but jeans that turns me on? Okay, maybe it’s just Luca in jeans that does that.

  Time to go.

  I push the blankets off me, and that’s when I realize I’m stark naked. I grab the sheet and haul it back up.

  Luca angles his head. “I’ve seen you naked, Bri,” he says.

  “It’s Brianna.”

  He grins. “I’ve seen you naked, Brianna. And I’ve been inside you. It’s a little late to cover up, don’t you think?” He grips the sheet and slowly drags it down my body. “You’re beautiful, you know.”

  Old hurts come back in a crushing wave. He didn’t think so years ago, couldn’t see that I was more than just a chubby freshman. “I should go.”

  He frowns. “Was it something I said?”

  “No. I should go. Tate and the others will be wondering where I am.” I climb from the bed, and Luca’s moan of appreciation fills the room as I saunter to the dryer and grab my clothes. I hurry to the bathroom and dress. Great. I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes, and from one look at me it’s easy to tell I’ve been up having sex all night. I somehow have to get to my room without anyone seeing me. This...whatever this was...is not something I want to explain, or repeat.

  Liar.

  Okay, okay, maybe I do want a repeat—why bother denying it?—but it’s not going to happen.

  Oh, but it did once, and it was so damn good.

  All righty then. On that note I step from the bathroom and glance around to find Luca in the kitchen. I take another sip of coffee and set my cup on the counter. I’m about to slip out when Luca points a spatula at me.

  “Sit.”

  Ribbons of need swirl through me at his assertiveness. I’m not sure what that’s all about. I’m the one who’s always in control, always calling the shots, but last night when he took charge of me, it awakened something needy inside me, something I never even knew existed.

  “You’re not going anywhere until I feed you. What kind of guy do you think I am, anyway?”

  Oh, if he only knew.

  “I don’t normally eat breakfast,” I say, but glance over at the counter to see what smells so good. My stomach takes that moment to grumble.

  “Maybe not, but we worked up quite the appetite last night and you’re going to eat.”

  “Maybe I work up an appetite like that every night,” I say, having no doubt he does the same himself. I remember his reputation back at Oxford.

  He flips the pancake, turns and leans back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankle. Seriously, could he make the pose look any sexier? I want to tell him to put a shirt on already, but I don’t want him to know the true effect his near nakedness has on me.

  “Is that right?” he asks.

  “That’s right.”

  “Is that why you don’t want to get married? You like having a different guy in your bed every night?” He shrugs. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’m just curious.” He flips the pancakes again and then plates them, sliding them across the island. I breathe in the delicious smell as he grabs the syrup.

  “Why so curious?” I ask as I pour a generous amount of syrup over my pancakes.

  “It’s the lawyer in me.”

  “It’s the lawyer in me that keeps me single.”

  He forks a big bite into his mouth, chews and then says, “How so?”

  “I’m a divorce lawyer. I see the worst in people all the time, and if you know anything about my family, the guys move from woman to woman constantly.” Tate’s dad, Uncle Don, is the latest example. He married his fourth wife several months ago. Half the family didn’t bother skipping work to attend. Carson family weddings have become so run-of-the-mill... Sounds scornful but it’s the truth.

  “Tate’s not like that.”

  I smile. “No, he’s one of the good guys.”

  “Then you’re saying there are good guys out there?”

  I laugh. “Way to twist my words. You must win a lot of cases.”

  “I win enough.” He takes another bite, lounging against the island.

  “You really don’t want to get married. I never would have guessed that about you,” he says, redirecting the conversation back to me.

  “I don’t do relationships, don’t do love and I don’t sleep with the same guy twice. Believe me, I know happily-ever-after doesn’t exist. I see that every day.”

  A moment of silence as he absorbs that, and then he says, “Your job is doing a number on you. Do you even like what you do?”

  I take a long moment to think about it. “Some
days, I guess.”

  “You did family law at Oxford?”

  A question, not a statement, but I answer anyway. “That’s right.”

  “I wonder if we ever ran into each other, attended any of the same parties.”

  “The guys in their Oxford hoodies.” I wave my fork. “I couldn’t tell one apart from the other. You all looked alike.”

  “Ah, the hoodies. They were all the rage back then. I wore mine to every party.”

  “I remember,” I say. Then when his eyes lift to mine, I add, “I mean I remember the hoodies. I don’t remember you in one at any party.” Wow, for a girl who hates to lie, I’m really nailing it here. “By the way, these pancakes are delicious,” I add, wanting to change the conversation.

  “Come back for dinner. I make a mean carbonara.”

  I reach for my coffee and take a sip. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a guy who could cook.”

  He quirks one brow. God, could he be any more adorable? “No? What kind of guy would you take me for?”

  “A guy who has others cook for him.” On campus, rumor had it he was extremely wealthy, but no one really knew much about him. Funny, now that I think about it, he really kept his private life...private. I’m guessing that hasn’t changed, since he chose to stay in the chalet, away from the rest of us. “I guess I just assumed.”

  “Assumption is the mother of all screwups,” he says with a wink, then adds, “I’ve been single a long time. It was either learn to cook or starve.”

  “You made the right choice, and now, lucky for me, I’m reaping the benefits from it.”

  “My mom is a true Italian who loves to cook. I spent hours in the kitchen with her when I was young. We’re still close.” I look down at the mention of his mom, as memories of my own fill me with heartache. “Brianna? What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. What about your father?” I ask, and then kick myself for veering into the personal.

  He looks down, pain ghosting his eyes. “We lost Dad and my brother at the same time. Car accident.”

  I touch his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.” His gaze meets mine. “What about you? Are you close to your parents?”

  I sigh... No point in lying in this regard. “My Dad left when I was young, and my mother sort of checked out after that. She died a couple of years ago.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been very hard on you.”

  “I miss her terribly. Miss who she was before it all happened.” Long before she was physically gone, she was both emotionally and mentally gone from my life. I try to inject a bit of humor into my voice. “Unlike your mother, she wasn’t Italian or a good cook. At least I didn’t have to eat her food after she checked out on me.”

  He smiles at me, and I get the sense he can tell I’m making light of things. “You did the cooking?”

  “Yeah, and I wasn’t very good at it, either. A chip off the old block,” I say and slide another piece of pancake into my mouth. The taste explodes on my tongue.

  “But you can make a mean apple pie, right?”

  I can’t help but laugh at that. “No, Tate was kidding. I actually burnt down the kitchen the only time I tried. I mean, the pie might have been good, before the firemen doused it.”

  He laughs out loud. “You’re kidding me?”

  “I wish I was.” We both go quiet for a moment. “You said you’ve been single for a long time. Are you anti-marriage, too?”

  He looks down, stares into his coffee cup like it holds all the answers in the universe. His muscles bunch, the tension in his body taking up space between us. God, he’s suddenly strung so tightly, I’m afraid something is going to pop.

  He leans away from the countertop, presenting calm even though there is a storm going on in his eyes, and his nostrils are flaring. “I’m not opposed to marriage,” he says. “If it was with the right person, you know?”

  What the hell does he mean by that? Was he married before, to the wrong person? I wouldn’t judge—I was nearly engaged to the wrong guy once. Ryan was so temperamental, it was almost a relief to catch him cheating on me with his sister’s friend. Good riddance, asshole. I’m curious about Luca but it’s not my business, nor do I want to make it mine, so I don’t ask.

  A noise outside the chalet gains my attention. As the guests wake up and begin their activities, I finish the last bite of my breakfast. “I’ll help you with the dishes and get out of your way.”

  “You’re not in my way, Brianna,” he says, and my gaze flies to his when he takes my hand. “I was serious about tonight,” he says, his mood changing. “Come back. I’ll cook for you, even give you a few lessons.”

  My gaze meanders to his bare chest, and I take in his bronzed skin, the hard grooves my fingers itch to touch again. “I...” Oh God, how tempting. But this has already gone too far. I’m out of my element as it is. I pull my hand free, stand and take my plate to the sink. “I can’t. I told Granddad I’d have dinner with him tonight. I haven’t spent a lot of time with him lately, and he’s not well.”

  “I want to keep fucking you.”

  I turn and grip the counter at his bold statement. “Last night was a one-time thing, Luca. And like I said, I don’t date the same guy twice.”

  “Last night was a date?”

  “Last night was sex, or rather ‘fucking’ as you put it.”

  He grins. “Really good fucking.”

  “Yeah, really good, and I never screw the same guy twice, unless it’s Mr. Right,” I say and wonder why I’m telling him any of this.

  His eyes search mine, and my stomach clenches with desire. “Mr. Right?”

  “My battery-operated boyfriend.”

  He laughs at that, but it quickly morphs into something else. “You probably shouldn’t have told me that. Now I’m going to want to see you use it.”

  Holy God, did he really just say he wanted to see me pleasure myself? “Not going to happen.”

  I make my way to the door, and he’s hot on my heels, his closeness heating up my body again. My nipples quiver, and the juncture between my legs begs me to take him up on his offer. But I can’t. I don’t want to get involved with this man. I don’t even like him.

  He reaches past me and opens the door, and his bare chest brushes over my back. “Enjoy Mr. Right, but if you decide you miss the real thing, you know where to find me.”

  Heat rips through me just that easily, and I clear my throat. “It was nice meeting you, Luca.”

  “You too, Brianna,” he says, drawing out my name.

  With that I step outside, close the door behind me and nearly melt to the ground in a puddle of need. But no matter how my body reacts, no way, no how am I stepping foot in his chalet again.

  I don’t think.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Luca

  DUSK FALLS OVER the village as I make my way down a long cobblestone path leading to the main bar, Diamond Peak, where I plan to grab a much-needed drink with Tate—maybe two. I spent most of the day going over some work I brought with me, and thinking about what happened last night. I never meant to go down that path with a woman who could make me forget all about my obligations. A woman who doesn’t believe in marriage or even second dates. It’s a shame, really. I might not be able to have her long-term, but I’d hate to see her go through life without ever finding love.

  A fresh strip of anger curls through me as I think about the stipulations placed on me. What I’d like to do is rip up my father’s will and stomp it into the ground, but if I do and the conglomerates go to my cousin, we could lose everything. I have my mother to think about, not to mention all the things I want to do for my people once I take my rightful place.

  This morning I should have run the other way instead of telling Brianna I wanted to continue sleeping with her. But now that I’ve gotten a taste of her, I w
ant more. I want to keep her in my bed until I have to go back to Italy. Hell, maybe a week in her bed will help me forget her once and for all. I can only hope, because once I step into my position as duke, I can’t be with her. As I think about that, I wonder what Brianna would make of it all. Most think the Italian nobility are nothing but a joke, thanks to some of Marco’s over-the-top playboy antics. They’ve gotten worse in recent years.

  I glance around the bar in search of Tate. Tonight it’s just the two of us, and we plan to kick back and down a few brews to celebrate the last of his bachelorhood. I step into the bar where I once worked as a bartender and nod to Henry, the aging manager who should have retired ages ago. He waves back, and I make my way over to him.

  “How’s life treating you, Luca?” he asks.

  “Good, I’m enjoying New York.”

  “Sure do miss you working back here with me. Hard to get good help these days.” He pours me a draft and slides it across the counter.

  I take a sip. “Perfect as always.” He smiles at that. “How’s Marion?”

  He smiles when I mention his wife. “She’s good. Still nagging me to retire.”

  “Maybe it’s time to take her on that American vacation she’s been wanting,” I suggest with a raised brow.

  He winks at me. “It’s in the works.”

  “Nice. If you make it to New York, you have to look up me and Tate,” I say, but then swallow down the knot jumping into my throat. Soon enough I’ll be packing up and heading back to Italy. My thirtieth birthday is around the corner and I won’t be able to put it off any longer.

  Henry turns to another customer and I spin on my stool and glance around, looking for Tate. Instead I find Brianna and her grandfather, seated near the window. I can’t hear what they’re saying from here, but from the intense look on her face, I’d guess it’s a pretty serious conversation.

  I look her over, revel in the way her jeans hug her curves. My eyes go to her buttoned-up blouse, and how she’s toying with the top button. As I gaze at her, and think about last night, every instinct I possess tells me she remembers me from Oxford. So why is she pretending otherwise? Why the secrets? I’m not sure what sort of game she’s playing, but I’ll let her play it, for now.