she wouldn’t be able to deny him anything tonight, he pulled away. His breathing was harsh and erratic.
“Sleep well, angelo mio .”
Drawing a ragged breath, she tamped down the feeling of regret. Intellectually, she knew this was for the best. Thank God at least one of them had self-control.
When she just stood there panting and staring up at him, Marc chuckled. “Let me unlock the door for you, pet.” When she didn’t move, he took her handbag and retrieved her key.
Pet . Her dream lover had used that endearment. Well, as endearments went, it was lousy. An independent woman like herself should have been offended by his calling her pet. So why did the word cause butterflies to flutter in her stomach? If he was a Dom, she should be running far and fast. But one thing she knew for certain—at this moment, she would have submitted to him if he’d asked. Maybe not for kinky BDSM play, but definitely for sex.
Thrown completely off balance, she continued to lean against the doorframe for support as he unlocked and opened the door. Being a possible Dom was bad enough. The man also was a D’Alessio. So out of her league. And Luke? She’d been ready to fall at his feet when he kissed her at the pool table.
What was the matter with her tonight? Was she just sex starved?
So, how had she gone from wanting no man to wanting two? Despite what Allen had insinuated, she didn’t do threesomes.
Oh, Angie, who said anything about a threesome? Get the hell inside before you embarrass yourself .
“Well, um, good night, Marc.” Her words sounded rushed, breathless, and lame, but before she changed her mind and dragged him inside with her, she scurried into the living room and closed the door behind her. Breathing a lungful of lavender-scented air to replenish the oxygen his nearness had deprived her brain of, she leaned her forehead against the door and sighed.
“Lock the door, cara ,” he whispered.
A tingling danced down her spine as if he’d whispered a sexual command against her ear. Like “kneel, cara .” She grinned, then turned the deadbolt and locked the doorknob.
Marc chuckled. “Good night, bella .” Then she heard his footsteps cross the wooden planks of the porch. Moments later, the car ignition turned over and they drove away.
Tomorrow they both would be inside her house for the dinner they had earned. Then she realized that Marc hadn’t kissed her just now as a show for Allen.
Mio Dio! What was she getting herself into?
* * *
Angelina applied lip gloss and pressed her lips together, then stepped back from the full-length mirror on her bedroom door. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it, but the white Manoush party dress hid her wide hips. Twirling to hear the swish of the petticoat, she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. Returning to the closet, she slipped into the stilettos, knowing they were sexy as hell. At least she wouldn’t have to walk much in them tonight.
Time to get the bruschetta ready. The guys should be here within the next half hour. The smells of Nonna’s kitchen permeated the rooms of her tiny bungalow, transporting her to summer nights in Marsala, Sicily.
Angelina made her way back to the kitchen where she’d prepared many of her family’s favorites, hoping Marc and Luke would enjoy them, as well. Judging by how snug the waistline of this dress fit, she wouldn’t be able to eat much tonight herself.
Her stomach knotted every time she thought about Marc’s kiss last night, which had left her aching for something more. Her defenses had crumbled like a fortress of cards, her conviction that she was finished with men buried in the rubble. Luke’s kiss during the pool game had sent similar thoughts into her mind. But that was just for show.
Dressed like this, she certainly didn’t look like she was planning to put the brakes on whatever either of them wanted. Thoughts of their hands on her body sent a flush to her face.
She spread her homemade roasted garlic
“Sleep well, angelo mio .”
Drawing a ragged breath, she tamped down the feeling of regret. Intellectually, she knew this was for the best. Thank God at least one of them had self-control.
When she just stood there panting and staring up at him, Marc chuckled. “Let me unlock the door for you, pet.” When she didn’t move, he took her handbag and retrieved her key.
Pet . Her dream lover had used that endearment. Well, as endearments went, it was lousy. An independent woman like herself should have been offended by his calling her pet. So why did the word cause butterflies to flutter in her stomach? If he was a Dom, she should be running far and fast. But one thing she knew for certain—at this moment, she would have submitted to him if he’d asked. Maybe not for kinky BDSM play, but definitely for sex.
Thrown completely off balance, she continued to lean against the doorframe for support as he unlocked and opened the door. Being a possible Dom was bad enough. The man also was a D’Alessio. So out of her league. And Luke? She’d been ready to fall at his feet when he kissed her at the pool table.
What was the matter with her tonight? Was she just sex starved?
So, how had she gone from wanting no man to wanting two? Despite what Allen had insinuated, she didn’t do threesomes.
Oh, Angie, who said anything about a threesome? Get the hell inside before you embarrass yourself .
“Well, um, good night, Marc.” Her words sounded rushed, breathless, and lame, but before she changed her mind and dragged him inside with her, she scurried into the living room and closed the door behind her. Breathing a lungful of lavender-scented air to replenish the oxygen his nearness had deprived her brain of, she leaned her forehead against the door and sighed.
“Lock the door, cara ,” he whispered.
A tingling danced down her spine as if he’d whispered a sexual command against her ear. Like “kneel, cara .” She grinned, then turned the deadbolt and locked the doorknob.
Marc chuckled. “Good night, bella .” Then she heard his footsteps cross the wooden planks of the porch. Moments later, the car ignition turned over and they drove away.
Tomorrow they both would be inside her house for the dinner they had earned. Then she realized that Marc hadn’t kissed her just now as a show for Allen.
Mio Dio! What was she getting herself into?
* * *
Angelina applied lip gloss and pressed her lips together, then stepped back from the full-length mirror on her bedroom door. She hoped she hadn’t overdone it, but the white Manoush party dress hid her wide hips. Twirling to hear the swish of the petticoat, she couldn’t keep the grin from her face. Returning to the closet, she slipped into the stilettos, knowing they were sexy as hell. At least she wouldn’t have to walk much in them tonight.
Time to get the bruschetta ready. The guys should be here within the next half hour. The smells of Nonna’s kitchen permeated the rooms of her tiny bungalow, transporting her to summer nights in Marsala, Sicily.
Angelina made her way back to the kitchen where she’d prepared many of her family’s favorites, hoping Marc and Luke would enjoy them, as well. Judging by how snug the waistline of this dress fit, she wouldn’t be able to eat much tonight herself.
Her stomach knotted every time she thought about Marc’s kiss last night, which had left her aching for something more. Her defenses had crumbled like a fortress of cards, her conviction that she was finished with men buried in the rubble. Luke’s kiss during the pool game had sent similar thoughts into her mind. But that was just for show.
Dressed like this, she certainly didn’t look like she was planning to put the brakes on whatever either of them wanted. Thoughts of their hands on her body sent a flush to her face.
She spread her homemade roasted garlic
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