Free A Weekend of Misbehaving by Carmen Falcone Page A

inappropriate that is. You have been nothing but incredible since we got here. You’re loyal, you’re kind, you’re…”
    Oh. My. God . Keeping still was a problem. Her thighs trembled, and her sex throbbed. She was in bed with him, and unless she shook off that sensual sensation flooding her body, there was no way in hell she would fall asleep. “Go on.”
    “That’s it. I was a prick. I’m not good at voicing my emotions nor do I want to be. I’m lucky you came along with me on this trip, Alice, even though I may act like the opposite.” She heard him popping his knuckles.
    “Okay. You’re forgiven. Care to elaborate on the inappropriate part?” she asked, rushing to say the words before she changed her mind. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, desperate to find something to do. Her stomach sank. Was there a possibility he, too, wanted her? Or did she misread the whole situation?
    He turned to his side. She could make out the outline of his body in the pale moonlight seeping through the curtains. The man was staring at her, for crying out loud. What was he thinking? That she didn’t have a pulse between her legs? “You work for me, Alice. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable in any way. You don’t have to kiss me or do anything else to keep your job or to get that money. That’s not how I operate.”
    “You don’t have to worry about that. I kissed you because I wanted to,” she said in a throaty voice. God. God, God, God. She clamped her eyes shut, like she hung at the edge of a precipice and had to choose between jumping to the other side or falling. Unable to stay still, she crossed and uncrossed her legs, her blood on a low simmer. “Sorry. Don’t mind me. I get kind of riled up every time I sleep in a new bed.”
    “Tell me more. Does that happen often?”
    She shifted until her back pressed against the mattress. Carefully, she made sure her limbs didn’t touch his, even though his posture was a lot more relaxed. “That I get riled up?”
    He scooted just a notch closer, and her heart set into an untrustworthy race. “No. Sleeping in a new bed.”
    Why did his rich accent have to make it sound so dirty? “Why, do I detect a hint of sexism there?”
    A hearty chuckled filled the air. “I’m just curious.”
    “Well, I’m a healthy woman with an okay sexual life. I mean, I don’t sleep around, but I have a little pink book I can go to if I need.” Yeah, a book that had a one-inch layer of dust on it. But she decided to keep that info to herself. Let him think she was a skankilicious goddess. Who cared?
    The bed seemed to shrink.
    “Interesting.”
    She turned to her side and realized she was dangerously close to him. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and she had to swallow a couple times to clear her dry throat. “How about you? Aren’t you supposed to be the hot Italian stallion?” she asked, even though she had never seen him with a woman. Sure, he probably dated at least a couple times, she conceded; after all, he had asked her to babysit a few weekends when he wasn’t out of town. But unless he was having an affair with his secretary, good ol’ Mrs. Goodwin, the man was super discreet.
    He drummed his fingers on the mattress. “I’ve been busy.”
    Who in the world was too busy to screw? She studied the outline of his hand, powerful even in the dimming light. “How long?”
    “Long,” he said, his voice strained.
    She clenched her legs together in a vain effort to suppress the pounding pulse from spreading everywhere. Too late. She touched her chest to ensure her heart was still in its place, the beat so strong it could have jerked away from the confines of her weak flesh.
    Shoving the sheet to her side, she drew in the bubble of oxygen around her and let it out carefully. What was going on? Could she be dreaming if she hadn’t even fallen asleep? “I’m sure there are some women who wouldn’t mind being in your little black book. Make a