Chapter 4
ROMEO
The next day I work on autopilot.
My legs carry me to wherever the boss wants me to go.
I drive Gia into Manhattan. I stand guard while she’s in a meeting.
I intimidate anyone who gets too close when she’s crossing the sidewalk between appointments.
I open doors and carry her shopping bags and take shortcuts when we hit traffic.
I even get her coffee, just the way she likes it, from her favorite café, extra-hot, with chocolate and cinnamon on the top.
I remember nothing about the day.
“Okay.” Gia dismisses the others when we get back to her apartment, leans against her kitchen counter, and eyes me coolly. “What happened last night?”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Sure you do. Sara Mancini. Sorbet. The first date.” She narrows her eyes, scrutinizing me the way she would her own reflection before leaving the hair salon. “Oh my God. You like her, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t have asked her out if I didn’t.”
I don’t enjoy these one-on-one conversations with Gia.
She doesn’t miss anything, and she knows what I’m thinking before I even do.
I guess that’s why she’s the boss, and I’m not.
That and the fact that she was born into the Rossi family.
Mafia connections taken out of the equation, they still own half of Staten Island.
“You know damn well what I mean, Romeo.” She switches on the coffee machine and reaches for two cups.
“I don’t want coffee.”
She raises a finger to shush me. “You’re having coffee. I want to hear what happened.”
“Nothing happened.”
The aroma of coffee starts to fill the room, the machine gurgling behind her. “Let me rephrase that. I want to hear what happened.” She smiles. It’s supposed to relax me, and it works, a little.
“That’s what you said before.”
“I know.” She holds my gaze. In a staring contest, there’s no match for Gia Rossi.
I don’t even try to win. “We skimmed stones at the beach.”
She purses her lips like she’s trying to figure out the punchline before I get to it. Then, “You actually skimmed stones.”
“Tonight, I’m teaching her to swim.”
She fills the cups with steaming black liquid, slides one across the counter to me, and takes a sip. Her eyes don’t even water from the scalding heat. I swear the inside of her mouth is made of metal.
“Where is this lesson taking place?”
“At the beach. It’s a designated swimming area. I wouldn’t—”
“Jesus fuck, Romeo.” She cuts me off. “Do you know how cold that water will be? You’ll give the girl hypothermia on your second date.”
“Not if I keep her moving and get her out of her wet clothes when we’re finished.” I realize how this sounds the instant the words leave my mouth. Heat rushes to my face. “I don’t mean I’ll undress her. I—”
She chuckles, her shoulders finally relaxing. I thought she was going to tell me that I was being a fucking idiot, but now I think I might’ve said the right thing. Women are so confusing sometimes. Especially Gia Rossi. Why does she even care so much about my date?
“She agreed to a second date, yes?”
“She did.”
“So, you must’ve passed the test last night.”
“The test?”
“It’s a figure of speech.” She dismisses any further questions with a wave of her hand. “You wouldn’t catch me swimming in the Hudson River at night, so she must really like you too.”
I want to add that I wouldn’t catch her swimming in the Hudson River at any time of day, but I’m still replaying the rest of the comment in my head.
She must really like you too.
“But whatever the fuck you do, Romeo, if her lips turn blue, get her out of the water and warm her up.”
Sara is wearing another tracksuit when I meet her outside the salon. Baby blue. White sneakers. And a gym bag over her shoulder.
I like that she wears what makes her feel comfortable. I mean, she’d look stunning in a little black dress and heels, but she looks stunning the way she is. Natural. Relaxed. Happy. She isn’t one of those women who try to be something they’re not.
I didn’t bring flowers today, and suddenly, I can hear my mom’s voice in my head telling me to treat her like a lady.
“I brought towels.” I gesture to the bag at my feet.
I don’t know if towels are an acceptable substitute for flowers, but it’s too late to take it back now. Besides, I’m already picturing me wrapping a fluffy towel around her bare shoulders and rubbing her dry. While she chews on her bottom lip and watches me.
Her smile lights up her face. “Did you remember the life jacket?”
Fuck! Gia is going to kill me.
“No. Shit. I can go and pick one up before we—”
Sara touches my arm lightly, and I don’t pull away. I could get used to her touching me. I want to get used to her touching me more than I’ve ever wanted anything before. And not just my arm.
“I’m messing around, Romeo. I trust you to keep me alive.”
“You do?” Fuck! I’m flustered, and we haven’t even gone anywhere yet. “I’m glad. I mean, I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, Sara.”
“I know.” She gazes into my eyes, and for a couple of beats, there’s only the two of us. No one else exists in the world. “Shall we?”
I take her hand, and it feels so natural, the thought of never doing this again makes my chest ache.
There are people strolling along the boardwalk when we arrive, but the beach is empty. I’m glad. I chose the river over one of the public pools because I don’t want her to feel self-conscious. There’s also the little matter of wanting her all to myself.
Sara is wearing a bathing suit under her clothes. It’s black with a pattern picked out in violet and silver that accentuates her narrow waist and slender hips. My eyes travel up to the curve of her breasts, and my loins immediately spring to life inside my swim shorts.
She is fucking beautiful.
I already knew she was beautiful the first time I saw her, but in a bathing suit… Mentally, I’m slipping those straps over her shoulders, exposing her perfect pink nipples, and tracking a line down her body with my tongue. I can taste her now. Sweet as honey. A taste that could get addictive.
When my eyes meet hers, I realize that she has been watching me watching her.
“Sorry… I’m… You look…”
She licks her lips and holds my gaze.
“It suits you. The bathing suit. Not that you don’t look stunning in clothes. But…”
Jesus Christ, stop talking now. My eyes drop to her breasts again, and if I don’t get into the water soon, it’ll be obvious what I’m thinking.
I step out of my sweatpants and hoodie, trying to hide my erection while praying that it’ll settle down before she notices.
I fold them neatly on top of my bag, stalling, and offer her my hand.
She doesn’t immediately take it. She’s too busy studying the tattoos on my chest, with an expression that I can’t read.
“It suits you too,” she says, dragging her eyes away from my torso.
Is that a compliment? I’m taking it as a compliment. When I got my tattoos, I never considered what women would think. It was a way of expressing myself. The pain helped too, gave me something real to focus on when I was still figuring out where I was supposed to fit.
My erection is knocking at my shorts, and I thank fuck she didn’t look down. If she had, this might’ve been the shortest swimming lesson in the history of time. It still might if I don’t get my pheromones under control.
I didn’t think this through. Too late to back down now though.
Waist-deep in the water, it isn’t as cold as I expected after my conversation with Gia. But I realize that I can’t just give Sara instructions and pray that she can float. I’m going to have to touch her. In her bathing suit.
The bathing suit underneath which she is naked.
“Show me what you can do.” My voice is thick with want. Desire. Lust.
Whatever it is, it’s all for Sara.
Sara shakes her head. “Please don’t make me show you. I can barely do the doggy paddle without sinking.”
I close the distance between us in a heartbeat. I never want her to feel like she can’t tell me or show me something. I never want her to feel like she is anything less than perfect.
“Good.” I take both of her hands.
“Good?”
“Yes, it means that I can teach you the basics without having to unteach you what you already know.”
“Thanks. I think?” She arches an eyebrow.
I slide my arms around her waist and raise her feet off the bottom. Then I hold her in a front crawl swimming position. “Alright?” I ask.
“I am while you’re holding me.”
I force myself not to think about the sparks flying between her body and my hands. Focus, Romeo!
“For now, keep your head above the water and just use your legs.”
She kicks her feet, splashing us both.
“Just move your feet, Sara.”
“That’s what I was doing.”
“No, you splashed with your whole leg.”
Keeping one hand around her waist, I slide the other down her leg and tell her to try again. Her leg hits my hand, and the urge to slide my fingers along her thigh makes my jaw clench.
“Better.” I growl at her, and her eyes flash to mine. “Minimal splash.”
“So that we don’t alert the sharks.”
My eyes instinctively scan the water’s surface before I realize, a beat too late, that she’s joking. Again. She gets me every time.
We make good progress. Sara is a fast learner, and I win the battle against my raging erection and the feel of her body in my arms.
I check her lips often to make sure that they’re not turning blue. But when she shivers, I set her down, holding her close.
“Enough for today.”
“How did I do?”
Water droplets collect on her lashes, and with her damp curls clinging to her face, I can’t resist leaning in and brushing her lips with mine. Her nipples instantly harden, pressing through the bathing suit and burning holes in my chest.
“Good.” It’s all I can manage right now. I don’t dare look down, in case I come face to face with my shaft bobbing beneath the water’s surface. “I don’t want you dying of hypothermia.”
“Romeo.” She waits for my eyes to meet hers. “I don’t think there’s any danger of that while I’m with you.”
Does that mean what I think it means?
Does she feel it too?
As if she can read my mind, she nods and slips her arms around my neck, and her legs around my waist.
I carry her back to the beach and set her down on the cool sand, her wet body sliding down the length of mine. No way in hell she missed my erection that time.
I thumb the strap of her bathing suit. “You should get out of this and get dry.”
Peering left and right along the beach to make sure that we’re alone, she strips off the wet suit and waits for a towel.
I fumble with the bag zipper. She is so fucking beautiful, it’s all I can think about as I pull out a towel and wrap it around her naked body with trembling fingers. The swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the mound between her legs.
Sara holds my gaze. “Romeo…”
I swallow.
“You should get dry too.”
Without thinking, I pull out a second towel, dry my face and chest, and drape it over my shoulders simply because she told me to.
I want to explore every inch of her body. I want to taste her inside and out. I want to fuck her until she can’t walk. But not here. Not in public. When I make Sara mine, I don’t want an audience.
She licks her lips and slants her eyes at me. “I guess there’s just one question left. Can I see the rest of your tattoos?”