Star-Crossed (6 page)
She smiled as she searched through her purse for her credit card, thinking maybe she needed to start visiting New York if this was the type of men they had to offer. A man who didn’t mind being an equal with a woman, who was fine with Jules having a successful career and her own checking account and a sex drive she didn’t have to be ashamed of.
“Ma’am.”
Jules turned to look at the waitress, credit card in hand. “Yes.”
“The gentleman you were with already paid the bill.”
“What?” Jules frowned. “But—”
“It’s all taken care of.” The waitress gave Jules a winning smile. “The maître d’
said he insisted. He’s got sorta an old-world charm, doesn’t he? And the guys in the back said he’s really famous in the fighting world. You’re so lucky.” 44
Jules huffed under her breath and purposely ignored the waitress, who seemed to think Jules should be unendingly grateful. But Jules was actually mad about it. So much for New York putting out progressive, modern men who didn’t mind a woman standing on her own two feet. It turned out Romeo was just like the men in Garnet, all brawn and balls, who expected a woman to swoon if he flexed his muscles and grunted loud enough.
“Thank you,” she said, refusing to look at the waitress who was not so subtly hinting that she had a crush on Jules’s date. She put her credit card back in her purse just as her phone buzzed. She picked it up, seeing a text from Romeo with a room number on it. She might have responded if she hadn’t happened to glance over her shoulder at the waitress, who was still hovering. “Can I help you?”
“Is he your boyfriend?” the waitress asked, hope shining in her dark eyes. “Or is this like a business meeting or something? It looked sorta like a business meeting, because neither of you were drinking and—”
“Are you serious?” Jules gaped for one long moment. Then she put her purse on her shoulder and stood. “You know what, never mind. I don’t got time for this.” She had bigger fish to fry than one lovesick waitress. She had a UFC fighter that needed to be put in his place.
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Chapter Three
Romeo took the long way to his new room, including a stop at one of the gift shops for condoms. The two he carried in his wallet were probably too old to be safe, because the sad truth was, Romeo worked too hard to get laid.
Sure, the opportunity was always there. Romeo wasn’t blind or naive. He knew he was good-looking. When so inclined, sex was as easy to get as Chinese takeout in New York City, around every corner and more often than not, just a phone call away. But most women wanted love and commitment and lots and lots of time, which was one thing Romeo didn’t have. Even if they came to him under the guise of a casual fuck, there were always underlying expectations that Romeo knew he’d eventually destroy when fighting or family took priority.
And despite being a cocky bastard in front of the media and a genuinely mean fighter—Romeo didn’t like to break women’s hearts.
His mother just so happened to have been a woman, one who’d gotten her heart trampled on right up until the end of her life, when Frankie—Nova and Tino’s useless father—finally decided to give a shit and spent the last few months with them. Frankie had come clean to his wife over the long affair and his two bastard sons. He’d held Romeo’s mother’s hand while she lay there slowly dying and promised to look after her children.
His mother took peace in that only because she’d been too high on pain medicine to stop and consider what it meant to have a genuine mafioso promise to take her sons under his wing. Romeo was asked to throw a fight because of that stupid deathbed promise. That was Frankie’s way of looking out for them, lining his pockets with dirty money earned by Romeo’s blood, sweat, and tears.
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Fuck that. Romeo would rather be celibate the rest of his years than be something that even closely resembled Frankie.
But Jules was different. She didn’t expect anything. Romeo was fairly certain she was going to kick him to the curb and never look back once this night was over. She wasn’t impressed by his fighting stats or his bank account. She wasn’t looking at him like a one-way ticket to easy street. She certainly wasn’t hearing wedding bells.
Jules Conner was very intriguing.
Not to mention gorgeous as hell and sexy enough to leave him hard and uncomfortable through all of dinner. He’d nearly come in his pants when she admitted she wanted to be wild, sweaty, and naked with him.
It took everything he had not to say
fuck, yes!
and drag her to the nearest corner, but he wanted more than a quick, mindless fuck from her. She had a body made to be savored, and he planned to do just that—savor her all night long and end this week on a high note.
What the hell? He deserved that, didn’t he? Hadn’t they been running grainy footage from the casino’s hidden cameras on every national news station all day that proved he was a hero?
One night to enjoy himself before he ended up back in New York, with Frankie’s dirty fingers in every aspect of his life, including his career. Everyone from Romeo’s coaches to the towel boy at the center where he trained was in the mob’s pockets.
Romeo was so fucking sick of it he was ready to do something drastic, but he wasn’t going to think about it now.
He had something entirely different on his mind as he got out of the elevator and spied Jules down the hallway. She stood in front of the double doors to the suite he’d reserved. Her arms were crossed over her chest. Her foot tapped impatiently.
Romeo got the distinct impression she was pissed off about something. The way her arms were crossed pushed her breasts up to the point that they nearly spilled over the low-cut neckline of the slinky, indigo-blue dress she was wearing. Her foot tapping
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just pulled his attention from her tits to those impossibly long, shapely legs. They seemed to go on for miles, especially with those high heels that made her six-one at least.
This woman should be a model instead of a lawyer, but she was probably a little too toned for that line of work. She didn’t look like she was going to waste away like so many of those waifs; instead she was curvy and strong. Her body had definition Romeo appreciated. It spoke of a lifetime of dedication to a sport he loved, and damned if that didn’t turn him on to the point that his vision almost went hazy from the hard throb of sexual excitement.
“I was supposed to pay for dinner,” Jules said as he approached her. “Wasn’t that the deal? You get the room. I get dinner? Or does it hurt your delicate, male ego to let a woman pay the tab?”
Romeo had suspected she’d be ticked about him paying for dinner, but he didn’t give a fuck. He wasn’t letting her pay for their date, and besides, she looked hot as hell with her cheeks flushed in anger and those icy blue eyes narrowed at him. He’d have paid twice to see it.
He ignored her rather than respond, because he was still fighting down an attraction that was overwhelming to the point it almost scared him. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted a woman as badly. Instead he pulled out the key card the front desk had given him and reached around Jules to open the door.
She huffed indignantly as he pushed the door open. “I’m talking to you.”
“I heard you.”
“You genuinely disappointed me.” She sounded stricken as she followed behind him. “I thought you were different from the fellas I’m used to, but it turns out you’re the same and—” Romeo pushed the door closed behind her, and Jules turned when it clicked shut. “What’re you doing?”
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Romeo stepped into her personal space and then leaned forward to breathe her in.
The perfume she wore was dark and seductive rather than sweet and floral like most women wore. Jesus, this woman even smelled perfect.
When Romeo moved to kiss her, she turned her head petulantly. Her breathing was shallow, her body tense, but she obviously wasn’t inclined to give in—yet.
He bent down and whispered against the smooth line of her throat, “I didn’t pay for dinner to be a chauvinist. I did it because I enjoyed your company, and I felt like you were worth it. Is that so bad?”
Jules appeared unmoved by his impassioned plea. “You think you’re charming.”
“Sometimes,” Romeo admitted, a smile tugging at his lips. “But it’s still the truth. I wanna kiss you, Juliet. Look at me.”
“No.” Jules’s voice was a low rasp, sounding like the denial hurt. “Maybe this is a mistake. I thought about it while I was walking up here. This is all wrong and—” She was going to be stubborn, so Romeo took the initiative and cupped her face in both his large hands. He forced her to turn to him and studied her stunning features for one breathless moment. Her body tightened defensively, but she didn’t fight him as only the sound of their labored breathing filled the air. Jules’s eyes were wide, her cheeks more flushed than ever. Then she licked her full, lush bottom lip in a quick swipe of anticipation.
That was all the invitation he needed.
Romeo leaned down and kissed her before she got a chance to think about things any more than she already had. Jules moaned in response and arched into him. Her lips parted to his, soft and hungry for more. Romeo knew he was already too far gone as he deepened the kiss and greedily took what she was offering.
JULES WAS IN trouble.
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Romeo Wellings could kiss like nobody’s business, and it was messing with the good sense that was her God-given gift in this life. She couldn’t even remember what she’d been pissed off about before he’d cornered her and stole her words with all the hard-driving intensity that seemed to seep from his pores and obviously extended past his passion for fighting.
All she could focus on was that sweet taste of honey he left in her mouth and the smell of his expensive cologne invading her senses. All she could feel was that strong, heavy body of his pushing her against the door. Romeo’s hands slid into her hair as if they were made to be there. His fingers tightened in her blonde curls, and he used his grip to tilt her head and deepen the kiss. His tongue pushed into her mouth, and damned if she wasn’t letting him own it like it belonged to him.
A white-hot rush of pleasure shot straight between her legs, making all the fine hair on her arms stand on end from the sheer intensity of the moment. Surrendering was easy, because even out of her mind, Jules knew this was one of those rare moments that only came once in a lifetime, maybe twice if a soul was lucky. She wasn’t about to spend the rest of her days lying awake at night—regretting.
When Romeo did finally break the kiss, giving Jules a brief reprieve to find a way to breathe past the passion, his lips moved down to the curve of her neck. His tongue was hot and wet as he licked and kissed and teased, causing a shimmer of pleasure to dance over her skin.
Romeo slid one hand up her thigh and groaned, lifting his head to look at her when he reached the tiny clasp to her garter. Then he tugged on the garter snap, his voice low and demanding as he said, “Tell me.”
His gaze was still holding her captive. It was such an amazingly light shade of green. She felt mesmerized by the flecks of gold around the irises. She could barely speak past the hot rush of anticipation. “What’d you wanna hear?”
“That you want it.” His gaze finally broke from hers to glance down at the low dip in her dress that showed off the curves of her breasts. “I have to know you really need 50
this from me. That you need it like I need it. ’Cause,
Madonn’
, I need it really bad, and I’m scared to come at you if you’re not there with me.” A slow smile tugged at Jules’s lips as Romeo continued to ogle her tits. The waitress had been right; there
was
an old-world charm to Romeo. His New York accent was suddenly extra thick, as if he’d spent time trying to smooth out his words for a more cultured air and had just lost a complete grasp of himself.
“I need it,” she assured him as she reached out to stroke his hair, letting the shiny, inky-black strands slide through her fingers. “I’m hurting I need it so bad.” That must have worked, because Romeo leaned into her once more, crushing her against the door. His other hand wrapped around her back, pressing her to him until she could feel the hard outline of his dick through his suit. He buried his face in the curve of her neck once more, licking and kissing, making Jules shift against him at the dance of ecstasy from those simple caresses.
Impatient, she started tugging at his jacket. Once she got it over his broad shoulders, Romeo shrugged it off and tossed it carelessly to the ground. Then Jules worked on his shirt, her fingers fumbling with the buttons when he kissed her again.
This time his need was scorching, overwhelming to the point that Jules was consumed by it. His tongue pushed into her mouth, hard and possessive. His hands ran up her back and then pulled down the zipper to her dress. The straps slid to her upper arms, the material pooling in the front to expose the low-cut, black lace of her bra.
The clothes were a major nuisance, and they were frustrating the hell out of Jules.
Romeo had on entirely too much, and she finally pushed away from him to resume the work of undressing him. She loosened his tie and then pulled it over his head, before tossing it aside to rest on top of his suit jacket. She worked quickly, efficiently pulling one button after another free and then jerking his shirt out of the waistband of his pants to finish the job.
