Casanova In Training (15 page)

“Oh, Gio!” she cried as she bowed her back almost immediately.

Fuck, she is so tight.
He rolled them over so she was on top. Hands on her hips, he watched her eyes change colour in the light. “Ride me.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders and lifted herself up and down. She found a speed she seemed to like and he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from tearing control from her. This was some of the most exquisite torture he’d ever experienced.

Fast and slow. Up and down. Back and forth. She rolled her hips, took him all the way in, and barely moved, aside from her snug internal muscles. She was killing him and doing it with a smile on her face. Her passionate cries and moans were such an aphrodisiac.

He reached for her breasts once but she beat him to it, so he watched her, head back in ecstasy, riding his cock and tugging on her own nipples. He had been so close to bursting and her mewls hadn’t been helping, so he reached for her clit and flicked it. Her response had been explosive, as had his. They’d barely got their breath back before he flipped her to the bottom and started again. It was almost midnight before their need had been sated.

The following morning they were in the kitchen, Jaydee dressed in one of his shirts. It hung to the middle of her thighs, and he wore a pair of shorts. As she put ice in her glass all he could think of was how his shirt was the
only
thing she wore.

“You’re staring again.”

He blinked and watched her approach. “Yes, I am. You tend to do that to me.”

She cocked her head to the side. “How is it my fault you’re staring?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Jaydee rolled her eyes and took a drink of her water.

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

“Am I supposed to?”

He sensed genuine bafflement in her question. “Well, no, but come on, Jaydee, you have to know people find you attractive.” She blinked at him. “The night we met, that short skirt, skimpy top, and fuck-me heels?”

She nodded. “Ahh. Those weren’t my clothes. My friend Lexy convinced me to wear them. She said I needed something other than my dweeby lab attire to wear.”

“And the second night?”

“Lexy again.”

He remembered her friend. Very sexy, yes, but she’d not done anything for him. No one had done to him what Jaydee had.

“And the men?”

“Lexy’s brothers.”

“Are you…” He trailed off.

Jaydee stared in his eyes. “Am I what?”

“Involved with either of them?” Honestly, did he want to know?

“Why would I be involved with either of them?”

Again, nothing but pure curiosity in her tone. He swallowed. “You were out with them.”

She frowned. “Why would I have kissed you if I were involved with another man?” She glanced to her water before back to him. “I am not in the habit of doing that.” Her tone was affronted.

“And the man…from last night?” He spoke hesitatingly, unsure whether he wanted to know this either.

“Did I not just spend one hundred eighty minutes in your bed? Am I not sitting here wearing nothing aside from your shirt? And did I
not
just get finished saying I don’t behave with such proclivities?”

Gio hid his smile. Only Jaydee would say things like that. He’d noticed it when she was frustrated or stressed. She would tend to sound geekier.

“Actually, sweets, you used smaller words but I get the gist of it.”

She ducked her head but he still saw the flush. He didn’t mention it, merely waited for her to look up. She didn’t and so he spoke again.

“Tell me about him, Jaydee.”

“Who?”

“The man from last night and the one I’m assuming you’re leaving me tomorrow to go out with.”

She stared at him then sighed. “Does it really matter to you, my relationship with Dr Thompson?”

“Yes.” He reached out for her hand. “You saw me last night, Jaydee. The thought of you in another’s arms makes me…well, you saw.”

“Your actions had little to do with me and everything to do with the amount of alcohol you’d consumed.”

Perhaps, but the knowledge of her out with him had started it. “Who is he to you?” he asked, a command more than a question.

She didn’t want to say, that was obvious.

“What did you two talk about today?”

He shook his head. “You first, sweets.”

“I’ve worked with Dr Thompson for a number of years.” She pursed her lips briefly. “Since I began working in a lab on the technology for the B-2s, actually.”

He knew she was holding back.

“So, he’s like a mentor?”

Watching her, he knew she would love to be discussing anything else. But,
damn it
, he had to know. She finished her water and placed the glass by the sink. He could see the tension radiating from her. Downing the rest of his own drink, he moved up behind her, set his glass down, and tugged her back to settle against his bare chest.

“Jaydee?” She muttered something under her breath he didn’t catch. “What did you say?” he asked.

“He’s my father.”

Not what he’d expected to hear. He turned her so he could see her face. Her eyes—those amazing tortoiseshell eyes—sparkled in the low lighting from behind him.

“Dr Thompson is your father? I slugged your
father
?”

“Yes.” Her response was as straightforward as her gaze.

His stomach churned. Christ, he’d sucker-punched the father of the woman he wanted more than his next breath. He closed his eyes and sighed. Not good. Not good at all.

“Explain.”

Although she seemed reluctant, Jaydee nodded. She shuffled by him and he observed her head back to his bedroom. Following, he stopped in the doorway and watched her sit at the foot of his platform bed, his green shirt offsetting his tan bedspread—mussed bedspread—and her brown skin.

“I carry my mother’s last name. They never married and, when she realised I was…different, she tracked him down and left me in his possession.”

The dispassionate way she spoke disturbed him. He crawled on the bed beside her, rested against the wall, and drew her back to settle against him. She stiffened slightly but didn’t struggle.

“I thought you didn’t know where your mother was.”

“I don’t. I just said she dropped me off.”

“When?”

“I was seven.”

His heart dropped like a rock. “You’re different how?”

This time she did stiffen. He should back off, he knew he should. But he couldn’t. He wanted to know everything about her. Wanted to be there for her, the shoulder she could, or would, cry on.

Crap. He was in way over his head. Instead of running, Gio moved his hands up and down her arms.

“Jaydee?”

She didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t want to relive powerful memories she’d taken great pains to bury. “I was smart. And it bothered her. A lot.”

“Why would she be embarrassed you were smart?”

Jaydee shrugged, grateful for his warmth behind her. “I tended to blurt things out in public which…she found reprehensible. So when her
gentlemen
callers began to get upset by my comments they gave her an ultimatum. Them or me. She chose them. Packed up a bag for me and drove me to California and left me with Dr Thompson in the Mojave Desert at his lab.”

A deep breath. “I was seven, like I said before. He was less than pleased to have me, and employed a woman to care for me and a tutor. Not much later, he took me to the lab and began testing me. I was eight when I corrected some of his equations for an application of antigravity propulsion.”

She rubbed her hands on his bedspread. “I have not just a photographic, but an eidetic memory. So I began working in the lab. By age eleven I had mastered flying a B-2.”

“Wait. Eleven?”

“Yes.” Her voice was low. “I’d read the manuals and had worked in the simulator. When I did go up, I went up with two test pilots just in case. They weren’t needed.” She brushed her hair away from her eyes. “Anyway… I began pulling double duty with both lab and bombers. They sent me to OCS and I graduated then headed back to the lab.”

“Christ.”

She sighed. He was like her mother in thinking she was a freak. She’d hoped he would be different. Drawing away, she began to inch off the bed. His grip on her arm had her examining him over her shoulder. There was no odd look in his eyes, nothing like the others who’d called her a freak had. She paused.

“Where are you going?” His question was direct, much like the man himself.

She blinked a few times and glanced to her bag, which currently sat on his black bergère in the corner near the window. “Home.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners when he gave her a grin. Not a patronising one, no, quite the opposite. Sexuality in its rawest eidolon. His eyes smouldered with heat and passion.

Half expecting him to tug her back to him, she tensed. He released her and let his body relax against his bedroom wall. She wasn’t fooled, for she knew he had incredible reflexes.

“I never pegged you for running away, Jaydee.” He drew a leg up and rested his arm upon it.

She couldn’t keep from staring at him. Professionals had a term for what she’d become around him. A nymphomaniac. Even his powerful legs and feet could distract her.

Tearing her gaze from the leg, which seemed to be fascinating her unconditionally, she met his eyes. “I am not running.”

“Yes, you are.”

She wanted to deny it. “Yes, I am.”

He beckoned to her. “Come here, sweets.”

Her body listened immediately. Up on her knees, she shuffled back to his side. His gorgeous eyes burned hotter. He licked her lips and stroked down her side, pressing the cotton tighter to her skin. Her breath hitched when his callused palm continued on over her thigh. His fingers spread and, with gentle pressure, he encouraged her to settle across his lap.

“I’m not like your mother. I don’t think you’re odd. I happen to think you, Jaydee Amos, are an amazing woman.”

A groan threatened to slip free. There he was, hard beneath her. The feel of him settled so intimately against her core made her long to shift her hips, to rub against him.

Their eyes were locked. Her entire world shrank to Giovanni Cassano. It smacked her. At some point, during her many weeks at the test facility, this man had come to mean a lot to her.

“I want to know everything, Jaydee. Your past. Why you almost always drink water. And not only why you ride a crotch rocket, but how long you’ve been riding.”

“Why?”

He slid his hands up under the bottom of the large shirt she wore. She’d never worn another man’s clothing before. She liked it. The T-shirt carried a faint smell of Gio that she would never grow tired of.

“Because this is more than sex—great sex—but it’s still more.”

She didn’t want to analyse what they had. Analysing was what she always did. With Gio, she wanted to experience. To shut off the part of her that normally ruled her decisions. To take more than a few hours to be a
woman
.

Lexy’s loud whoop of encouraging approval reverberated in her mind and she smiled slightly. Her friend had always been after her to have fun.

She shifted and watched the spike of heat in his hazel eyes darkening them. With slow and careful movements, she leaned in and kissed the skin over his clavicle and deltoid. He stiffened, flexing his fingers along her hip, but otherwise remaining immobile. She took her time, exploring his pectorals, loving how his nipples hardened beneath her touch, before kissing a path down his sternum. Tiny tremors moved through him.

“Jaydee.” Her name sounded tortured as it left his mouth.

She gazed at him from beneath lowered lids. His jaw was clenched and she watched a bead of sweat roll down from his temple. “Gio?” He looked at her, barely restrained desire emblazed in his gaze.

“Yes?”

“Tell me what you and Dr Thompson spoke about yesterday.”

“Yesterday?”

“It’s after midnight, so it means you spoke to him yesterday.” She rocked again and he groaned.

“He…he…oh God, Jaydee.”

She ran her short nails down his chest. His fingers flexed again. She tossed her hair and slid her hands back up his chest before looping her arms around his neck. She leaned in to brush their lips together.

“Tell me.”

“Inside,” he ground out.

“Tell me.”

“You’re killing me here, Jaydee.”

With a short nod of her head, she lifted up and he quickly removed his shorts. His cock rose up towards her. Large, thick, and all hers. He reached to his drawer and withdrew a foil packet. She took it from him and ripped it open.

She carefully covered him and gripped the base of his shaft, holding him at her entrance. Back and forth, she rubbed him along her and all the while she stared at him.

“Jesus, Jaydee. Stop torturing me.”

This power she had made her smile, but she couldn’t wait any longer. With agonising slowness, she lowered herself upon him. Lord knew she wanted to slam down on him, but the part of her that won wanted to drag it out. As he filled her, she released a pleasured gasp. A deep moan escaped him and his fingers settled back upon her hips.

“God, you feel so good,” he uttered.

So did he, but her ability to speak appeared to have abandoned her. All she could do was close her eyes and begin to move. Up and down his length, she lifted and lowered until they both panted with desire.

“Open your eyes, Jaydee. Open them and watch me.”

She did. His black, thick lashes were lowered halfway, which only added to his darkly sensual appearance. She couldn’t help but shiver from their intensity. So much existed in that stare, she dropped her gaze.

“No,” he said, sliding his hands up her ribs, “watch me, sweets. Watch me as we make love.”

Her entire body flushed even as she forced herself to keep her eyes open. She curled her arms around his neck as they continued to move in slow, harmonious synchronicity.

She could feel the sweat trailing down her spine, her body hovered on the cusp, and yet he refused to take it to the next level. His strength allowed her to move but ensured she kept the pace nice and slow.

Something was changing between them, right here, right now. Before it had been mostly fast, with an almost fierce edge to what they’d shared. Hot, fast, and explosive. This was just the opposite. Even their calmer times had been less intense, in that he’d never insisted on the eye contact. Bottom line—before they’d fucked, sometimes gently, but it wasn’t like this. Not even close. Now he was making love to her. No-holds-barred love.