Susceptible to Him Page 2

  Lia

  Royal hottie, indeed.

  My nerve endings stirred as the subtle scent of sandalwood wafted across the table time and again. What man used sandalwood-scented soap anymore? By the cut of his suit and the Rolex on his wrist, Ryan Walsh had money. And plenty of it. Why no expensive cologne? The chick-lure nectar of the gods his type bathed in?

  He grinned again, and heat filled the empty place only Mr. Pink had seen or stroked in two years. Ryan’s attention drifted to my lips and lingered as our waiter took his time pouring our wine.

  I forced myself to breathe as my treasonous nipples pebbled, begging for attention.

  Damnation. I do not want this.

  He was too friggin’ sexy for his own good. And by his suggestive grin and the twinkle in his eyes, he knew it too.

  “Are you ready to order, Lia?” Ryan asked, his focus staying on my face instead of dipping downward like most men’s did.

  Praying my voice didn’t betray my arousal, I turned my attention the waiter. “I’ll have the shrimp Fra Diavlo.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  Ryan spouted off a few words in Italian, never once breaking eye contact with me.

  My lips twitched. Papa would be impressed.

  When the waiter ambled away, a smile—a real smile, not the cocky, you-know-you-want-me ones he had offered until then—revealed straight, white teeth. “So.”

  His low voice caressed my ears, and I pressed my thighs together. Thank God I hadn’t shaved. No doubt he had little trouble getting women into his bed. Or their bed. Or against a wall.

  Holy shit.

  The image in my mind had my body ready to beg for release. I struggled for air.

  “Tell me about yourself, Lia.”

  I swallowed. “What did my profile say?”

  “You didn’t see it?”

  “No time.” I cleared my throat against the breathless tone, forcing thoughts of being pinned against a wall by his body from mind. “I, uh, walked in the door and Gwen pounced on me with the news, all but throwing me in the shower.”

  Ryan picked up his glass of wine and swirled it once more before taking a sniff and sip. “Forget what your friend said. I want to hear about you in your own words.”

  “All right.” I took a fortifying gulp of wine, the full-bodied oaken flavor barely registering on my taste buds. “Um…I spent my childhood here in the North End, my parents moved us to Newton when I was twelve, and I have three older brothers.”

  “Are your parents still together?”

  “Yes. Still madly in love, too.”

  His brow rose. “Madly?”

  I nodded and raised my glass once more.

  “That’s rare these days.”

  The wish to snort accompanied tightness in my chest. “Yeah, it is. We’re a pretty tight-knit family.”

  What appeared to be longing lit within his blue eyes, but flickered out as he smiled. “And what do you do for work?”

  “I slave away in an accounting office every day.”

  “Sounds thrilling.”

  “Hardly. Papa wants me to work in the family business, but I need my space.”

  “Family business? Risso…as in the supermarket chain?”

  I dipped my chin. “Yes.”

  “Your family has done well.”

  My eyes roamed over his wide shoulders, lingering on his tie. The desire to take my time undoing the knot and slipping it from around his neck had me grasping the wineglass stem tighter. “Better than most immigrants in Papa’s younger years.” I met his perusal, surprised to find genuine interest on his face.

  Or, was he a master of the female gender? One way to find out for sure. Assholes loved to talk about themselves—and schmooze a woman like a car salesman at month’s end. “You appear to have done pretty good. Tell me about yourself.”

  A nonchalant shrug lifted one shoulder. “I moved from no-man’s-land Ohio after college, wanting the action of the big city. Being a Sox fan, I opted for Boston rather than New York. Started up an online company with a buddy of mine and sold out a few months back.”

  No bragging, just fact. “Is your family still in Ohio?”

  A frown furrowed his brow for a heartbeat as he glanced away. “Don’t have much family to speak of. My sister lives in Montana. Last I’d heard, anyway.”

  Although he’d piqued my curiosity, Ryan seemed uncomfortable with the topic. Lest he pry back, I changed the subject. “So what do you do for work now?”

  “I don’t.”

  Figured. A womanizing, rich, lazy-ass. Papa wouldn’t care for that one bit. “A man of leisure, are you?”

  “Until I find something else to do.” He turned his panty-melting smile back on me. “For now, I hit the gym every morning, toy with investments, and travel a lot.”

  “I always wanted to travel.”

  “Ever been to Italy?”

  Sighing, I propped my elbow on the table so my palm could support my chin. “No. Never been out of New England.”

  “Never?”

  “No. Italy’s on my bucket list, though.”

  “Tuscany is the place to go. By far the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen.”

  “Papa says the food served here in the North End doesn’t compare to his homeland.”

  Ryan made a noise of agreement while sipping from his glass. “He’s got that right.”

  Our meals arrived, and I inhaled a deep breath of garlicky, spicy heaven. I stabbed my fork into the pile of pasta and twirled.

  “So why accounting?” Ryan asked.

  “I went to school with the plan of joining Papa, but decided two years in that I wanted to have my own office—be my own boss someday.”

  “Ambitious.”

  I shrugged, and chewed while contemplating. “Maybe in a few years I’ll open my own accounting firm. If I don’t burn out first. Every year, April fifteenth can’t come soon enough.”

  Ryan cut into his steak. “What’s your father think of your aspirations?”

  “The baby of the family—his only daughter—and she wants nothing to do with the family business? What do you think?”

  “I’d say he wasn’t too pleased.”

  I snickered and twirled more linguine. “Understatement of the year.”

  “That bad, huh?” He popped a bite into his mouth.

  “Papa’s got an awful temper. Awful. Unfortunately, I inherited it.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yup. Didn’t get a lick of Mom’s humble spirit. Or her blue eyes, for that matter.”

  “Don’t like your black olive eyes?”

  Chewing, I shook my head.

  “Why not?”

  “All three of my brothers got the best genes of both our parents—olive skin and blue eyes. And here I am, looking like Snow White, but with long hair and…”

  A less than willowy body.

  He lowered his knife and fork. “And what?”

  I gestured toward my breasts, but Ryan’s gaze didn’t follow.

  Unsmiling, with desire darkening his eyes, he leaned toward me. “The Snow White in my most erotic dreams has lush curves, Lia. Hips to grip. Breasts to lose myself in.”

  My lungs begged for air as pure lust barreled through me. I reached for my wine with a trembling hand, hoping my voice didn’t sound as unsettled as my nerves were. “So…you’re a computer geek?”

  His head tipped back as laughter burst out. “Yes, I suppose you might say that.”

  “What kind of business did you have?”

  “We designed software.”

  I ripped a piece of crusty, still-warm bread in half. “I ought to take you over to Papa’s main office. Their computer system needs a major upgrade.”

  “Want to take me home to meet Papa already?”

  “What?” My hand dipping the bread into olive oil halted.

  Wineglass to his lips, he chuckled. I stared as he swallowed. “I still have connections if that’s what you’re really suggesting.”

&nb
sp; “Are you teasing me, Ryan Walsh?”

  “Your cheeks turn the most alluring shade of pink when you’re uneasy.”

  My face burned hotter. “So tell me about your college days.”

  “Where would you like me to begin, nervous little bird?”

  I relaxed in my chair and smiled. “At the beginning.”

  Although still wary of Ryan’s character, I didn’t hesitate in slurping down every string of linguine from my plate as he regaled me with tales of college. We chatted about Boston and the Sox, shared a second bottle of Valentino’s best red, and argued over the last crust of bread.

  Buzzed into semi-relaxation, I smiled and flirted with the man who, given the chance, would without a doubt break my heart as Jack had. Sure, Ryan seemed genuine enough. His gaze stayed on my face rather than the girls while I spoke, but I wasn’t about to give in to temptation so easily.

  I swiped the last remnant of our shared cannoli from the plate, and Ryan placed three hundreds atop the bill sheath before sitting back in his chair. “So.”

  “So.” A thousand butterflies lit within my stomach as one side of his mouth rose in a kissable smirk. I put the final bite of our meal between my lips and slid the fork free.

  His focus lowered as I licked the utensil clean. “I’ve never once changed my stance on the bottle of wine and phone number on the first date policy, but after meeting you…”

  The embers of passion he had forged earlier returned to flame, heating my skin. Crystal-blue eyes, glimmering like sapphires in the candlelight, finally slipped down past my chin.

  I shivered, my nipples hardening beneath his stare. “After meeting me what?” My voice sounded like a breathless ball of take-me-now.

  Tilting his head back up, he peered at me with naked hunger. “I want to see how you move, Lia.”

  Biting on my lower lip, I stared, my mind and body in complete opposition to each other.

  His sexy half-smirk returned. “Let’s go dancing.”

  “Dancing?” Laughter erupted, and I clasped a hand over my mouth.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I can’t dance,” I said around my fingers.

  “No?”

  I lowered my hand. “Not even a little.”

  He flashed his pearly-white grin. “Then I’ll just have to teach you, won’t I?”

  Gyrating against what had to be a hard, kick-ass body underneath his navy suit…my armpits tingled as sweat beaded between my breasts. “Dancing.”

  He nodded. “Just dancing, Lia.”

  “All right.” I gathered my courage while tucking my clutch against my side. I’d flirt with temptation, but wouldn’t let him break past my shield. “Dancing it is.”

  Ryan

  She shimmied off her seat and stood, and I got an eyeful of Lia Risso in all her kill-me-right-now glory. Dark jeans clung to her curves like a second skin. Fuck-me red heels sent an inner groan through my chest.

  “Damn.” The whisper escaped my lips, and her cheeks flushed again. I offered my arm. “Shall we?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Barely reaching to the top of my pecs, her forehead begged for a kiss. Shaking my head at the odd, chaste thought, I led her toward the exit.

  “Holy shit! That’s your car?”

  I took the keys from the valet and opened the passenger door for her. “Birthday present to myself this year.”

  “My oldest brother would kill for a Maserati.”

  While waiting to shut her in, I enjoyed an eyeful of deep cleavage as she lowered herself onto the leather seat.

  Not having bothered with an overcoat, I hunched my shoulders against the bitter night and hurried around my car.

  “Shit it’s cold.” I downshifted and took off south. “Lia.”

  She turned her attention from the scenery speeding past her window. “Hmm?”

  “That short for something?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  I allowed a quick glance at her pursed lips and imagined them wrapped around my cock. Old Boy liked the thought. “Now I have to know.”

  She heaved a sigh. “Bonfilia.”

  My brow rose, but I didn’t snicker as she doubtless expected. “Italian through and through.”

  “Hardly. Mom is Irish and redheaded as can be.”

  “But your papa named you.”

  “That he did.” She pulled her waves of hair to the side, offering a tantalizing view of the neck I wanted to lick my way down. “Mom adores him, and agrees with just about everything he suggests.”

  “It’s really not that bad.”

  She turned to peer out the window. “Bad enough.”

  “Kinda hot, actually.”

  Her head whipped around, eyes widened.

  “Bonfilia,” I rolled her name off my tongue as I might while sheathing myself deep inside her. “Your name sounds like a goddess. Fits you perfectly.”

  “You’re full of shit,” she said, her voice a ragged whisper.

  “Just stating what I see.” I made eye contact long enough to be dangerous while driving, allowing my desire to show on my face. “And I like what I see…Bonfilia.”

  Her breath hitched, parting those plump lips, and Old Boy swelled to attention.

  Fuck yeah.

  I decided a little tickle and poke wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. I needed to dig beneath the lingering sadness first, or at least get her to forget about it for the night.

  ****

  The heavy thrum of base resonated in my chest as strobe lights flickered reality.

  Clasping my hand, Lia stood before me, frozen amidst the sea of humanity gyrating around us. I pulled her toward me, inches from my body, and leaned down to breathe in her ear. Vanilla and the flowery fragrance of her hair products filled my nose, causing my aching length to throb. “Move with me.”

  I spun her around and lowered my hands to grasp her hips. Her ass cradled my erection, pulling a handful of curses off my tongue. The words faded into the din of pounding music.

  Lia grabbed hold of my hands as I moved us together, imitating what my body longed to do. She stayed stiff against me, and I tugged her arms up around my neck while deciding I couldn’t go another second without sampling her skin.

  I swiped my lips below her ear. Like the first hit of a drug, my senses came alive. I craved more. Her honeyed scent and taste shot desperate need to my cock, and I thrust forward.

  She sagged in my arms, tilting her head to the side.

  Fuck me. Such sweet surrender.

  The three glasses of wine had done little to erase the wariness she’d used to shut herself off from me, but a simple caress of my lips opened her up like a blooming flower.

  How would she react to my mouth trailing down her naked torso, licking every inch of her pale skin?

  I pressed another open-mouthed kiss against her neck, and Lia’s bones seemed to liquefy. She moved against me, the friction between us threatening my sanity. I turned her, and she tipped her head back, a small lift of her lips accompanying her sway.

  Her eyes, open and unshrouded, captured mine.

  Finally.

  Stilling, I held her face in my hands as she continued to sway those tempting curves.

  My damn knees trembled. I couldn’t tear my gaze from hers.

  I’d had my fill of women. All shapes and sizes, but none moved me…not a single one of those countless souls called out to me the way Lia did.

  She weaved closer as I lowered my head so she’d hear my words. “I need to taste you.”

  Lifting a hand to the back of my head, Lia pulled me down, her long eyelashes fluttering shut.

  Our breath mingled as I hesitated, thriving off the energy crackling between us. My blood raced for its life. My balls ached.

  Too soon—not soon enough—I brushed my mouth against hers.

  All hell broke loose inside me, and I swept my tongue across her lips, begging—needing entry.

  Fireworks are a thing of ladies’ fairy tales,
or so I’d always thought. Not fucking so. My brain lit up like the fourth of July over the Esplanade as our tongues touched. Danced.

  Fucked.

  Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pulled her tight against me, not giving a flying fuck about the people around us getting an eyeful. Let them see how perfectly she molded to my body, how perfectly two souls could fit together.

  I tilted her head to the side and deepened our kiss. Groaning into her mouth, I fought to keep my sanity.

  More, my head demanded, a chant my heart—and groin—joined in.

  I stepped back, staring as her eyelids lifted, revealing hunger. Surprise.

  Desire.

  Grasping her hand, I turned and pushed my way through the crowd.

  Lia

  No thought resided in my mind, no concern or care for those dancing around us, as Ryan’s lips and tongue devoured my mouth. Hot lust, unlike I’d ever experienced before, raced through me, settling between my thighs.

  Concerns of heartache and the fact that Valentine’s Day sucked ass had flitted away, doubtless with all the wine I’d guzzled.

  So much for flirting with temptation. I wanted to scale his body like a tree, and hang on until we both shattered into a million pieces.

  He stepped back, and I inhaled, trying to remain upright on wobbly legs. Eyes full of I-need-to-fuck-you-right-now heat peered down at me, soaking my panties.

  A chill swept through me as he stepped back, but in less than a heartbeat, he grasped my hand and pulled me behind him as he weaved through the crowd.

  Realization of the music thumping in time with my racing heart crept in as we stopped before a massive guy guarding a door engraved with “Members Only.” Ryan whispered in the man’s ear and pressed bills into his hand, allowing us entrance.

  I found the muscles to work my jaw. “Where are we going?”

  “Someplace private,” he replied without turning.

  Damn treasonous body. I should have been concerned—should have reminded him of his dinner and phone number declaration. I trailed behind, though, wanting to feel his lips once more. Needing his touch, as if I’d die without it.

  The music muted the farther we walked, down one carpeted hall after another, all lined with numbered doors.

  “Ryan?” My question came out as a breathless whisper. “I don’t think…”

  He spun me before him, gripped my ass with both hands, and lifted me against the wall.