Free A Weekend of Misbehaving by Carmen Falcone Page B

list.”
    He outlined the collar of her pajama top and, lord, her nipples perked up. “After I compile such list, what do you advise I do?”
    “Well, you act on it.”
    Don’t move. Whatever you do, just lie still.
    A part of her—the dutiful daughter, sister, and aunt—urged her to assume an Egyptian mummy position or just play dead like he was some sort of grizzly bear. But her resolve diminished with every passing second. The remaining distance nearly dissipated between them.
    “What if I want you to be on the top of my list?” He whispered into her ear, and the scent of his skin and the breath fanning her earlobe destroyed any common sense she may have left over. “Or better, on the top of you?”
    She wanted him so much. She had fantasized about him, touched herself thinking of him, and even dated someone, wishing it were him. Out of all the things she had denied herself in life, could she do this? Deny this gorgeous specimen of man, this delicious sex on a tall, long stick?

Chapter Five
    “T ell me. How does one make it into your little pink book? Is there a selection process? An interview, maybe?” His fingers slid down her neck, causing her to bite the inside of her cheek. His hand was just like she had imagined when she had masturbated in her bathtub—strong, warm, masculine, but not rough.
    She leaned in to his touch, her own fingertips tingling with need. The throb between her thighs galloped fast and furious, and if there ever had been a moment she would come from a slight caress, this was it. And Lorenzo Baldi was the cause. Damn him. “I favor hands-on auditions. Though, since you’re so rusty, I understand you might not be up for the challenge.”
    “Oh, I’m up for it,” he said with a playful drawl. He moved his hand into her pajama top, and, God, he went straight to her heaving breasts, cupping her so luxuriously that a couple of her buttons popped instantly. He murmured something low in Italian, and this time there was no disguising her coarse moan.
    She looked down and…was that an erection? Because if it was, she was in deep, deep trouble. And she loved every minute of it. “Well, then. Let’s see if you can wow me enough to make it into my little pink book.”
    He moved above her, his body within a brush of a touch, with each arm stretched on either side of her. She could tell by the tilt of his head that he focused on her, and it was like a long-awaited caress, soaking her in and bringing her close. She didn’t move, entranced by the gorgeous man admiring her like she was Scarlett freaking Johansson.
    Crazy was the way she arched toward him, leaning into his hands, her legs parting slightly. When she lifted her head to sneak her hands into his hair, he drew back.
    Lorenzo started to unbutton what was left of her pajamas and sighed with frustration. The star-shaped buttons weren’t easy—one had to unhook them at just the right spot. With a swift movement, he pulled open her top, and the remaining little stars flew in the air. He clearly wasn’t the patient type.
    She panted, the peak of her breasts hardening with the cool air blowing over them. Squirming on the bed, she longed for his touch, his kiss, and his hard cock plunging into her, removing her from any thoughts of reality.
    “Gotta say, I never found pajamas sexy.” He ran a finger between the valley of her breasts, and the simple touch sent a thrill through her. “Until now.” He leaned over her, and his tongue trailed the path his finger set, and she moaned. Oh, yes.
    “I wasn’t expecting— hhhmm —to conduct an interview.” She sighed when he slid the pants off her, exposing her prickled skin and blue hipsters.
    He continued planting small kisses, branding her skin with his tongue, until his mouth found the hem of her underwear. She wriggled to help him get rid of them, but he took his time, pulling them with his teeth, grazing her skin. She dug her fingers into the sheets, twirling them and praying for