Italian Kisses: A Billionaire Love Story Part 19

"Oh, I'm going to have to sneak you back into my hotel. The concierge who gave me your letter, he looked, well, the best way I can put it is vexed. I felt like it had something to do with a copy of a painting that used to hang behind his desk. The Mona Lisa, I think."

I sucked in a breath through my teeth. "I may have had something to do with that..."

He grinned, but his phone started ringing before he could drag the details out of me. He shifted to pull it from his pocket. "Yes?"

My head so close to his, I recognized Abigail's voice on the other end. Before I could help it, I tightened my grip on his arm as a hot and cold mix of anxiety and anger bubbled inside of me.

"That's fine, Abigail. Stop whatever it is you're doing. I no longer require your services."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then she started talking again. Liam waited for her to calm down, moving the phone away from his ear to avoid some of the shrillness.

"This is not a joke. You're fired. You're good at your job, but I can't work with someone when they're trying to undermine me, and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about."

Another pause. Another burst of shrill anger from the other side of the conversation. Liam hung up on her.

"You didn't have to do that," I said. I felt terrible, a little sick. I hadn't liked Abigail, not at all. But I hadn't wanted to cost her her job. Still, there was also a bit of devilish delight in the mix. Hey, I'm not perfect.

"I did. I should have done it as soon as I'd learned she'd confronted you."

"Aren't you afraid she'll try and get back at you? Doesn't she know important things about Ma.s.s Systems, or you?" The delight it's strange mixture of sickness turned to worry as I thought that he may have just cost himself a great deal of money and public favor to do that.

"She's bound by a pretty strict NDA. If she does try anything, she's going to be digging herself out of that avalanche of litigation for a long time."

"Just be careful," I said, remembering the feline malice in Abigail's eyes.

Then the taxi ride ended and we'd arrived back at the flat I thought I'd never see again.

Chapter 15.

My letter was still taped to the door, undisturbed. Thank G.o.d. Before seeing it, I'd experienced a mounting dread at having to explain myself to Mrs. Rosselini and that ubiquitous rolling pin of hers.

I had to take the letter down and open it up to unlock the door. I'd put the key to my flat in there along with the note.

"How many of those did you write?" Liam said. He stood behind me on the landing, letting my luggage rest on the step beneath him.

"You didn't have to do that, you know."

"I wanted to."

"Are you sure you just wanted to make sure I didn't make a run for it as soon as I left your sight?" I said, sliding the key into the lock. My pulse quickened when the deadbolt clacked.

"No. I trust you. Maybe I just want to see as much of you as I can, because an hour ago it seemed that I'd never get to look at you again."

I twisted the latch and put my shoulder into the door and we stepped inside. This feels right, I realized, looking at the room I'd spent the last several months considering my home.

Of course, I wanted to unpack everything right away, put everything back where it had been so that it once again felt lived in. I didn't like how bare the desk looked, or the mattress. I went right over to the window and opened the curtains, wanting to absorb everything I saw out on the street.

"I could get you set up somewhere nicer, you know," Liam said, setting my luggage down.

I got a whiff of Mrs. Rosselini's baking, then. Rich and homey and even better than I remembered, even though I'd last smelled it that morning. "Don't you dare." I emphasized the point by prodding my finger against his very firm chest.

He caught my hand and pressed my palm flat over his heart so that it thumped against my gently. "We're alone, now."

I knew what he meant. I'd been thinking the same thing. I wanted the same thing. But you can't always get what you want. I learned that from the Stones. "I know. But I have cla.s.s coming up."

"What if I asked you to cut cla.s.s today? What if I said I want you to spend it all with me?"

I leaned up on my tiptoes and planted a sweet, chaste kiss on his lips. He wet those lips after, and I could see the pulse quickening in his throat.

"I'd say that sounds good."

"It sounds good, but..." he filled in.

"But won't doing that make that speech you gave me in the cab a lie? Isn't this the part where I push back against the world and see if it gives, like you did?"

He pulled me close, our hips touching so that I knew just how badly he wanted me. All the blood and heat in me all seemed to concentrate at one point, and I came so achingly close to giving in.

"It was all a lie. I made it up," Liam said, grinning. His eyes told me the truth, though.

"Funny. You have no idea how good that sounds right now..."

He sighed, "No, you're right. We need to control ourselves, see the big picture." Except for us there was no big picture at that moment, only the two of us.

"But you're not backing out of the museum visit," he said, "We still have that wing to explore." He pulled back, still holding my hands. "I should go, leave you to it."

"Yeah, you should go," I said. Except I couldn't let go of him.

"I'll leave. I'll call a cab and leave," he said, nodding his head at the door to his back. His fingers tightened around mine instead of loosening.

"Good idea. Do that." I gripped him just as hard.

"Bye," he said.

"Bye."

Then he yanked me forward, right against him. He pinned my hands behind me, my back arching, my head tilting back, a little groan escaping through my lips.

He cut it off by placing his molten mouth over mine.

You get what you need. That's what the song says. I thought I needed to get ready for cla.s.s, to put my mind on solving this thing with Dr. Aretino.

Except my body knew better. My body knew I needed to feel Liam's touch, his warmth, and his desire.

"What about cla.s.s?" Liam said as though he hadn't been the one to smash through my willpower.

"I'll be late," I said, pushing my hips against his even while he held my wrists behind my back. I bit down on my bottom lip and let it slide out through my teeth, feeling it plump up from the pressure.

Liam made a deep, satisfied noise that reverberated in my chest. It sent tingles all through me. He kissed me, stopping only long enough to peel my shirt off, letting go of my wrists so that he could undo my bra and slide it down my arms so he could see just how excited I'd become for him.

"Don't ever run away again," he said between kisses that he slid up and down my neck and shoulder, running his fingers through my hair as it dangled behind my tilted head.

"If this is how you punish me, I'm going to run away every day," I said, my voice husky, needy.

That earned me another one of those desirous groans from him. He pulled off his jacket, his tie and his shirt. Then my bare chest pressed against his, the warmth of his skin stiffening my nipples so that they ached.

Then we were on the bare mattress, my clothes and his balled together into a makeshift pillow under my head.

He had protection, though I knew I wouldn't have denied him if he hadn't.

I never felt as satisfied as when he eased into me then. "Emma..." he breathed, his voice making me tremble and quiver inside all around him.

We moved and ground against each other desperately, all our pent up frustrations and foiled desires coming out.

Liam pounded all of that out of me. He was merciless. Not that I asked for any mercy. I didn't want any. I wanted it all. I wanted everything he could give me.

I kept clutching at him, not wanting him to move away at all. He had to take the s.p.a.ce he needed to keep our bodies in rhythm.

He'd wind his fingers through my hair, pulling it taut between his knuckles so he could force my mouth to any angle he wanted, leaving him only one arm to support himself.

His biceps bulged, his powerful pulse forcing the hot blood through his veins. If it was anywhere near as hot as mine, it felt as though my heart pumped lava through me.

I found purchase on him anywhere I could. My fingertips tugged at the prominences of his shoulder blades. The V-shaped muscles of his back guided me hands down the cleft of his spine to his a.s.s.

And that felt as good as it looked, flexing and relaxing in quick succession even when I squeezed him.

Soon I went rigid beneath him, all that heat between my thighs seeming to concentrate. My hands slid back up to his shoulders and I pulled him hard against me so that his hot, panting breaths caressed my shoulders.

"Don't stop," I begged, "Please don't stop."

He'd begun to tremble from my touch. He told me that he couldn't close his eyes without thinking of how much he wanted me. I couldn't do anything that didn't remind him of me. How he never wanted to go another day without touching me.

His voice was a hot, low whisper in my ear. He was like iron inside of me. Irresistible.

"There's nothing I love more in this world than making you come for me," he breathed, feeling the way my grip on him tightened, feeling the way my body arched beneath his.

His words tumbled me over the edge. I bucked beneath him, losing control of myself to his pleasure and mine.

Liam came with me, nuzzling and kissing my neck. I ran my fingers up into his hair and pressed his mouth harder against me, desperate to keep him there, desperate to be with him.

I'd lifted my back clear up off the bed so that my stomach brushed up against his. I descended slowly as my muscles loosened.

Then his face floated over mine and I couldn't resist reaching out to touch its masculine contours. My fingertips grazed his jaw, his cheeks, the pad of my thumb lingering against the cleft in his chin.

His look matched mine for intensity, our bodies still throbbing in time with each other. And then his lips against mine. He tasted vaguely salty from sweat.

I wished again that we could spend all day in bed, holding each other. But as pa.s.sion receded the weight of responsibility began grinding me beneath its bulk once more.

I barely had time to clean up and pull a fresh change of clothes out of my luggage. And then I had to open my luggage up and sort through it to find my notebook and a textbook I could skim on the bus ride over to the campus.

"I almost threw all of this out," I said, laying the notebook on my desk. The spine of the book still had my fine-tipped ballpoint pen stuck in it. I'd always preferred the fine tips. Mediums smudged too much. And they were better for doodling with in cla.s.s.

"I guess you knew you'd be needing it again."

Liam had untangled our makeshift pillow and had pulled on his suit. At that moment, he sat on the bed, leaned over as he tied his shoes. His hair was still tousled from our loving, and I had the strong urge to run my fingers through it again.

Must. Resist. But d.a.m.ned if it that wasn't incredibly difficult.

When he stood, I got a good look at the state of his clothes and I gasped. "Your suit! Oh, I'm so sorry..."

He noticed my concern and looked down at himself, brushing ineffectually at the wrinkles and creases in the silk. His tie had a deep-pressed one that had it tilting off to the left.

"It's okay. When you're away from me today I'll just have to glance at my reflection to remember how badly you wanted me to leave."

That earned him a hot blush. "I can't believe you said that! You grabbed me, remember? You wouldn't let me go, remember?"

"You know... I think I'm going to get some bruises on my wrists in the shape of your fingers..." Liam said, grinning. "So why are you procrastinating, anyway?"

"I am not!" It was a lie. I seriously considered jumping him again. I really didn't want to see Dr. Aretino, or even think about school. It gave me a cold sensation in the pit of my stomach to think about.

Of course, Liam knew exactly what was bothering me. "It's okay. I understand. But you can't beat him at this unless you confront that fear and make yourself do it."

"You'd make a great motivational speaker, you know that?"

"That's my backup career," he said, pushing himself up off the bed. The springs in the mattress made a labored sproing noise. Then he offered his hands to help my up off the floor and then to step over the perimeter of clothes and school supplies I'd surrounded myself with.

"Really? Because I think you could make some bank as a gigolo."

He shook his head. "Sure. Now stop stalling and get that cute a.s.s in gear." He gave me a stinging spank that had me hissing.

"You...!"

"Not me. You. Go. Unless you'd rather I drag you there? Somehow I don't think that would help your cause, though."

I went to cla.s.s, grudgingly. I even opened up my text and tried to study the readings for the lecture, my eyes skimming the words as the bus jostled me from side to side.

However, as much as I loved studying art, especially Italian art, my mind kept going elsewhere.

I kept worrying about the look on Dr. Aretino's face, as though he'd somehow know that I'd come so close to packing it all in and running back to the States.