Faster Dirtier (Take Me...#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel)

Copyright © 2014 Hearts Collective

All rights reserved. This document may not be reproduced in
any way without the expressed written consent of the author. The ideas,
characters, and situations presented in this story are strictly fictional, and
any unintentional likeness to real people or real situations is completely
coincidental.

Also From
Colleen Masters:

Faster Harder
(Take Me... #1) by Colleen Masters

Faster Deeper
(Take Me... #2) by Colleen Masters

Faster Longer
(Take Me... #3) by Colleen Masters

Faster Hotter
(Take Me...#4) by Colleen Masters

Faster Dirtier (Take Me…#5) (A Team Ferrelli Novel) by
Colleen Masters

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FASTER
DIRTIER

A Team
Ferrelli Novel

Take
Me…#5

by Colleen
Masters

CONTENTS

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Chapter One

The Lazio Family Villa

Rome, Italy

My stiletto heels click deliciously against the tiled
terrace as I step outside, letting the French doors snap shut behind me.
Drawing a deep, cool breath of air into my lungs, I gaze out past the balcony,
across the sprawling hills that stretch in every direction. In the gathering
twilight, the Italian landscape is a wash of deep, earthy hues. It’s hard to
believe that this breathtaking sight is going to be my backyard for the
foreseeable future. From this vantage point, I can take in the whole sweeping
picture all at once.

I feel like I’m on top of the world, and not just because of
the panoramic views.

Back inside the luxurious villa, someone turns up the house
music to a deafening volume. The party is really kicking into gear, now. I can
feel the bass line pounding in my very bones, and let my hips sway to the beat
just a little as I nurse my perfectly poured martini. I know that I should be
inside, enjoying the soiree. It is, after all, in my honor. But this whole week
has been such an unimaginable whirlwind of new faces and incredible
opportunities. I just need a minute to myself before diving back into the fray.

Glancing around at the stately terrace, I try to memorize
every detail of this moment. The delicate strands of string lights hanging
overhead, the turquoise swimming pool and bubbling Jacuzzi beside me, the cool
breeze tickling my bare arms. Catching a glimpse of my own reflection in the
French doors, I have to do a double-take to make sure it’s really
me
I’m looking at. I tuck a
loose strawberry blonde curl behind my ear and smooth down the bodice of my
gown, watching as the girl in the glass does the same. I guess it
is
me, after all, looking
more glamorous than I ever dreamed possible. The plunging neckline of my dress
is adorned with delicate golden beading, perfectly offset by the color of the
dress itself—a deep emerald green.

Or should I say,
Ferrelli
green?

A wave of sound crashes over the terrace as the doors ease
open behind me. The jolt of raucous music bursts chaotically through the cool
night air before it’s sealed off again by the closing double doors. My whole
body tenses up, startled by the sudden noise. But as I peer over my shoulder
through the twilight at whoever’s come to keep me company, a whole new
sensation takes hold of my every cell.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” says the man who’s joined me on
the patio. I can just make out the shape of his impressive body, obscured by
the shadow of the villa. His rich baritone voice floats to me on the crisp
breeze, and for a moment I’m too starstruck to speak.

“How could you be intruding in your own house?” I ask in
reply, lifting my martini glass to my crimson lips. I’m trying my hardest to
look effortlessly cool, as if I’m used to this kind of thing—the party, the
celebrities, the gorgeous attire...not to mention the gorgeous man standing in
front of me. Of course, nothing could be further from the truth.

“Good point,” my companion smiles, advancing toward me in
long, easy strides. “I should have said, mind if I keep you company out here?”

My eyes must be the size of saucers as I drink in the sight
of him over the lip of my glass. At six two, he’s a solid foot taller than
me—or would be, if it weren’t for these three-inch heels. His Italian wool suit
is cut perfectly to his staggering form. Somehow, he manages to be incredibly
cut
and
perfectly
balanced, broad but not bulky. And so,
so
tall. I brace myself against the terrace railing as he comes closer, my own
petite form dwarfed by his beautifully built body. I notice, as he draws up
beside me, that he’s palming two lowball glasses filled with delectable-looking
liquor. 

“Double fisting it?” I ask, nodding at the drinks.

“Double fisting? Is
that
what the kids are into these days?” he shoots back, raising an eyebrow in mock
incredulity.

“No, I just mean... You’ve got a drink in each hand, not...”
I stammer, blushing furiously at my unintentional double entendre.

“I know what you meant,” he chuckles, his dark eyes
glimmering mischievously, “I just wanted to see if you blush easily.
Apparently, you do. Good to know.” 

“It’s just a Scottish thing,” I assure him.

“Whatever you say,” he says, his grin widening. “Actually,
one of these drinks was supposed to be for you, but it looks like you’ve got it
covered.”

“Well. I’m nothing if not self-sufficient,” I smile, raising
my glass to him before taking another generous sip. The nearness of him has me
dizzy with nerves. All the liquid courage in the world couldn’t keep my pulse
from quickening in his presence.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he replies, leaning against the
railing beside me. His muscular arm brushes against mine, sending goosebumps
dancing along my skin. Can he have any idea what his proximity is doing to me?
“You’re also intriguing. And funny. And incredibly sexy.”

The rest of the world starts to go hazy as his deep brown
eyes bore into mine. If it weren’t for the desire radiating from that
bottomless gaze, I’d think he was messing with me. But I have a good nose for
liars, and I can tell that he isn’t one. He actually wants me. Little old Ainsley
Vaughn. Who would have thought?

A low, rasping laugh escapes from his beautiful mouth as I
stare up at him, unspeaking. His sharp, sculpted features are entirely
arresting. From his straight nose, to his sharp jaw, to his brooding,
devil-may-care expressions, he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen up close.
And is he ever close right now.

“I just had to come out here and tell you how gorgeous I
think you are. I’m not very good at biting my tongue,” he tells me. I have to
swallow a moan, imagining what he
is
good at doing with that tongue. “I’ve had my eye on you all night.”

“I can’t say I haven’t noticed you too,” I smile. This is an
understatement, of course. I’ve been noticing him for years. From afar, that
is. Sure, I’ve only ever seen him on TV. And in my favorite racing magazines.
And on the posters that used to hang all over my teenage bedroom... but still.
“This isn’t exactly the introduction I was imagining, I have to admit,” I go
on.

“No? Well, how’s this?” he counters, setting our cocktails down
on the railing.

A little gasp whistles through my lips as he takes my hand
in his. He draws my fingers up to his full, firm lips, planting a kiss across
the bridge of my knuckles. His mouth lingers there, caressing my trembling hand
for just a second longer than can be read as chaste. How can I be more turned
on by his simple peck than I have been by any steamy make out session?

“I’m Lorenzo Lazio. Enzo, to my friends,” he says, his voice
riding low in his chest. “But from the look on your face, I guess you already
know that?”

“Of course I do,” I breathe, the corners of my lips lifting
into a smile.

“Well, forget that do you. Just for this moment,” he says,
running his fingertips down my bare arm. “For right now, just think of me as a
guy at a party. A guy who happens to think you’re stunning. A guy who would
very much like to kiss you, now.”

My mouth falls open at his daring suggestion. Of course I
want Enzo Lazio to kiss me. I’ve only been dreaming about it since I was old
enough to have
those
kind of dreams. But can we really risk it tonight? Out here in the open, where
anyone could happen upon us? I try like hell to make these rational objections
stick, but Enzo’s lips are inches away from mine. That built, beautiful body
right is in front me. Right now. I’d be crazy to let this moment pass me by.

“Is it really just a kiss you want?” I ask, my voice
dripping with lust. I set down my glass and let my hands rest against his firm,
broad chest. The
realness
of him beneath my fingertips is as intoxicating as any martini, that’s for
sure.

“For starters,” he grins, bringing his strong hands to my
tiny waist.

I run a finger along his emerald green tie, smiling to
myself in the warm glow of the string lights above.
We’re matching
, I think to myself,
that has to mean something, right?
But all thoughts of sartorial signals are pushed from my mind as Enzo pulls me
closer. I stare up at him, scarcely daring to believe that this is happening.
With his olive skin, his jet black hair, and his fierce dark eyes, he looks for
the world like a Roman god, ready to have his way with the mere mortal woman
before him.

And I have to say, I don’t mind the sound of that one bit.

“Are you sure about this?” I ask. “What about—?”

“Come here,” he growls, tugging me against his exquisite
body. A deep throb of need pulses through my core as I feel the intensity of
his desire, pressing hard against my thigh. “Is that sure enough for you?” he
asks.

“We’ll just have to find out, won’t we?” I grin.

And just like that, my inhibitions are swept away on the
Italian breeze. I wrap my arms around his broad, muscular shoulders, pressing
myself to him with abandon. He circles his arms about my waist and spins me
around, pinning me against the railing. Our three drinks go flying, crashing
against the tile. He doesn’t even flinch. He just takes my face in his strong,
sure hand, and brings his gorgeous lips to mine.

A groan builds in the back of my throat as Enzo Lazio kisses
me, hard and deep. Our mouths move as one as I open myself to him, shivering
with delight as his tongue glides against mine. I rake my fingers through his
pitch black locks as the taste of him bombards my every sense, my need for him
eclipsing every cautious, sensible impulse in my mind. The pulsing hardness of
him is pressed flush against me, almost exactly where I want to feel it most.

Almost
.

I suck in a surprised breath as he grabs me by the hips and
lifts me onto the bannister. At 5’ 4” and 110 pounds, I’m not exactly bulky,
but he bears my weight as if I were truly light as a feather. I let my knees
fall apart as he eases between my legs, holding me close. The thin fabric of my
gown is all that separates me from that sumptuous length pressing right against
my sex. I grind my hips ever so lightly as we fall to kissing once more, and I
swear I can feel him growing harder by the instant. A warm, wonderful need
builds between my legs as he lets me feel just how much he wants me. Enzo runs
a hand along my collarbone, down my sternum, letting his thumb brush against my
hard, pert nipple.

“Jesus Christ. You’re not wearing anything under that dress,
are you?” he groans, his breath hot against my neck.

“Hardly a stitch,” I tease, letting my hands trail down his
chest. “But you can check, if you don’t believe me.”

He pulls back just a hair, taking in the sight of me
balanced on the railing before him, the gorgeous Italian countryside serving as
a backdrop. “You’re not like most girls, are you?” he asks, raising a thick,
sculpted eyebrow.

“Well. I don’t know about that,” I shrug. “But by all means,
you’re welcome to find out for yourself.”

“Oh, I intend to,” he assures me, running his hands down my
slender sides. He can practically encircle my torso with his huge, capable
hands. “I guess I should start by asking for your name?” he goes on.

I blink up at him in surprise. Surely, he already knows my
name. And why I’m here in Italy. Right? Clarity hits me like a punch in the gut
as I realize that he’s not joking. He really has no idea who I am.

“Oh boy,” I breathe, planting my hands on the hard panes of
his chest. “This is about to get
very
interesting.”