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Reversal
Duke wasn’t certain whether it was the nighttime view of the city from the Duomo’s lantern.
Or the second bottle of wine and tiramisu they’d shared while listening to tonight’s orchestra concert on the Piazza Santa Croce after dinner.
All he knew was that their cozy little table nestled in a sheltered corner of the restaurant’s patio seating was draped in shadows, making it remarkably intimate for a thrillingly public venue. That as the evening wore on and the crowd thinned, Caitlyn’s hand had crept over his thigh and opened his fly without a single provocation from him. And since she had her hand inside his slacks, he wasn’t about to ask what had gotten into her.
Besides the electric thrill that came with the risk of discovery and her initiating something so risqué, there was an equally rousing rush that came from her tentative explorations. She’d captivated him from the start, but the combination of her innocence and her lustful daring was a heady potion, o
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Her heart leapt joyfully at Duke’s encouraging words. Basking in the warmth radiating off of him, Caitlyn drew nearer, pressing her body lightly against his. What had happened at the door had been frightening—she’d never seen him with so little control. Even swept as she was into the storm of passionate sensations he stirred, she still retained at least that much presence of mind to hear what he was saying, to know what he was doing.So much instinctive drive was flattering too, she had to admit. To hold a man like him so enthralled. Even now, he was responding—his fingers leaving hers to caress along the bumpy ridge of her spine, his head dipping to nuzzle her neck. To control him—and herself—she was going to have to be firm.“Duke,” she pressed at his tattooed forearms insistently, forcing him to release her, and pulled out of reach of his lips. “I love what you do when you touch and kiss me, but I want to learn what you like too.”With a wry grin, he tucked his hands behind his bac
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Leaning against his chiseled chest, Caitlyn wrapped her arms around the back of his neck in an extended stretch. Then she wiggled and flexed with no particular grace and absolutely no idea what she was doing, rubbing her bottom against the heated steel of Duke’s erection. With her heart racing in a frenzied thumping, she waited for his reaction. Rapt, he gently enfolded her in his tattooed arms, closing one large hand at her throat and pressing her into his strong, warm body. She was so primed that she gasped as his questing palm brushed over the sensitized tips of her breasts and squeezed lightly before angling downward to skate across her abdomen. He was making a beeline for her pleasure zone’s command central. Too fast. Already she could feel herself being sucked in to his seduction and overpowered. “Wait.” His hand stilled and he nuzzled into her neck, forcing his breathing to steady as he inhaled the florally-female scent off her skin and fought the dema
Italy With A Duke All On
What escaped him was something between an agonized howl of pain and a bitter growl of frustration. But he yielded. Setting her on her feet gently, Duke separated them. Then he took an unsteady step back, pivoted so his back was to her and took a seat on the side of the bed. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, then fell back to stare blankly at the ceiling, his chest heaving and ropey veins standing out along his neck and shoulders, down into his tattooed forearms. His eyes slammed closed and he exhaled a sharp breath. He could have overpowered her like he had at the door. But he’d given her his word, and he’d kept it. Now he’d given her infinitely more. He’d set her free. Liberated her from her own insecurities. Unshackled the bonds of the past that had kept her prisoner. Elated, Caitlynn pushed herself off the wall and stumbled to the side of the bed. Duke’s breath left him with a soft ‘oophf’ as she fell upon him, but there was no tim
Italy With A Duke Pre-emptive Strike
“Rachel, you’d probably feel better if you ate something,” Dex said quietly, reaching for his cup of espresso. Ignoring him, she glanced at her watch and scowled, then sat up straighter and craned her neck, skimming the people at the other tables in the hotel’s restaurant. “Where are they? You said they’re usually down here for breakfast by seven. It’s seven fifty-five.” Sighing heavily, Dex used the time it took him to set his cup down to rattle off a mental ten-count. “The operative word was ‘usually’, Rachel. If I knew where they were, I wouldn’t be here having my meal ruined by your frenzied tapping and annoyed huffing. Maybe they came earlier.” “We were down here at quarter after six!” Not willingly, he thought, but remained silent. He lowered his head and rubbed his eyes slowly, his jaw clenched. “Fine. Maybe they’re late. Maybe they’re having breakfast somewhere else or getting room service. There’s not a way for me to answer your question or I
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By the time Rachel heard the click of the deadbolt lock on the door at room three-twenty-two, she’d already worked herself up into a fit of rage. She’d long-since formulated her verbal pre-emptive strike and it was perched to roll off the tip of her tongue the instant that she laid eyes on the fake Duke. She was bound and determined to make him pay for forcing her to chase her client halfway around the world on what in her mind amounted to an unnecessarily drawn-out, miserable, un-air-conditioned, sleepless scavenger hunt. Then the door opened. Only wide enough for a naked chiseled chest to block her view inside. But that singular piece of visible artistry in his sculpted arms and shoulders, and the rippling pectorals that tapered to his narrow waist and divine abdominals was all it took to erase everything—even her own name—from her head. She fought the urge to groan aloud and try to touch him. With her mouth gaping open, she stared at the sporadic dappling
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As Rachel sputtered and Dex gaped, Caitlyn stumbled a few more steps backwards into the room, her soft doe eyes locked on Duke in astonishment and accusation, flickering with distrust. He knew the look all too well—he’d made her nervous. That he didn’t like. He took a slow step closer, taking in the damp cling of her dark hair to her delicate neck, the slenderness of her shoulders. She was shaking like a leaf in a gale, her mind obviously an unfathomable swamp of questions and misunderstandings—things with some significant negative potential. That made him nervous. “Caitlyn,” he whispered, taking another step towards her. In his periphery, he saw her hired companion, Dex, lunge forward and capture the destructive little meddler, Rachel by the shoulders. “We need to stay out of this,” Dex hissed. “Like hell we—.” Her words cut off as he covered her mouth with a hand. For the first time since Duke had laid eyes on him, he was gra
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“Caitlyn, are you certain you want to do this?” Rachel asked for the hundredth time, watching as the other woman packed the last of her belongings into her luggage. Settling into the familiar comfort of numbness, Caitlyn lifted her head as she zipped the bag closed. “It’s what I want.” Home. The stillness of familiarity. Work that she could immerse herself in, her sorrows imprisoned safely behind it. She felt so tired. So overwhelmed by the magnitude of everything she’d learned. She needed someplace quiet, where she could slowly reconcile herself while everything that she thought she knew gradually fell apart. Dex shoved himself off the wall. “I’ll get that.” He reached for her luggage, easily setting it on its wheels and extending the handle. “We’ll get a car downstairs. Rachel and I will ride with you to the airport and we’ll be on the next flight out after yours. Is there someone picking you up when you get home?” She shouldered her
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Duke lay sprawled across his rumpled bed, his arms flung wide as if in supplication. He stared blindly at the ceiling, unaware of how much time had passed since the one woman he’d ever surrendered his heart to had walked out his door. Doubtless, by the numb shock that had settled in all the way to his toes, it had been a while. Long enough for Caitlyn to cry her broken heart out, hopefully not alone. Plenty long enough to completely change her plans and remove any possible opportunity to try again to explain himself without that acerbic little blonde spitfire interfering. Probably long enough to identify, locate and call his boss. Maybe even long enough to get him fired. Not that he cared anymore. Her florally scent clung faintly to the sheets, an agony he hungered for. He wanted to get drunk. To drown the thoughts out of his head in an alcoholic stupor, but after what he’d done, he didn’t deserve the mercy of a few hours’ oblivion, even if it
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