Tempting Little Tease, page 9
part #4 of Forbidden Desires Series
I blush, remembering for the first time in days that I’m still his tutor. Professional and personal are lines we’ve been dancing between since the very beginning. “Sì, we certainly have.”
Giving him my most innocent smile, I snatch up one of his chocolate-covered strawberries and pop it into my mouth. The flavor is almost as sweet as the word we was on my tongue. How incredible is it that such a word can mean so much?
How incredible, and how scary.
Chapter Twelve
Quinn
The crisp morning breeze rushes across my face as I stand on the corner outside my apartment, preparing for my morning jog. As I stretch, I notice that I feel a little lighter than usual. Probably from all the mind-blowing sex this weekend. Sex with Alessandra was incredible. Even more incredible than what I’ve been imagining it would be like for the past couple of weeks.
Once my legs feel loose, I set out at my usual pace, my muscles protesting slightly more than they usually do. I skipped yesterday’s jog in favor of breakfast with Alessandra. . .along with a few other unplanned aerobic-like activities.
I forgot how loose a long night of fucking can make you.
Turning the corner at the end of the block, I reach the entrance to my favorite place to jog—a long, looping pathway that winds through the park closest to my apartment. I pick up the pace a bit once my feet hit the dirt. I run this path enough to know that there will be almost no one on it, and I don’t have to be as cautious as I do when jogging through the city.
As I make my way down the path, my thoughts wander to my plans for the day. It’s Sunday—which means I have family dinner to worry about. It’s always good to spend time with my brothers and their wives, but I can already tell I’ll struggle to get Alessandra off my mind. After how well she handled the last family dinner, I make a snap decision and pull out my phone.
I slow to a stop in the middle of the pathway and type Alessandra a new message.
Busy tonight? Would love for you to join us for another family dinner.
Moments after I close my phone, it buzzes. A smile spreads across my lips. Good to know Alessandra isn’t the type to play hard to get after finally going all the way.
Can’t :( Lorraine is out of town, so I have to watch the kids overnight. Wish I could come.
I immediately begin typing a dirty response about coming, but decide against it. Instead, I send:
If I get rid of my family early, can I come see you?
Alessandra responds that she needs to check with her boss first. While waiting for her reply, I begin jogging again.
My phone buzzes, and I quickly stop to open it. I smile as I read the message.
She said it’s fine, just as long as it’s not too late! Bedtime is 8:30 here. Can’t wait to see you. :)
Excited, I send Alessandra a quick text back and practically sprint the rest of the way home. I still have plenty of time to kill before dinner with my family, but knowing that I have time with Alessandra on the horizon gives me a sense of urgency I didn’t have before.
The rest of the day catching up on a bit of work, and then cleaning up around the house and prepping for dinner that night. I decide to make sheet-pan fajitas so cleanup will be easy, and I can push my family out the door as soon as we finish with our weekly ritual. I make a quick run to the grocery store to pick up tortillas, then stop by a toy store on the way home to ensure I make a good impression on the kids later.
By the time my brothers arrive with their wives, I can feel myself rushing through our conversations. I have to force myself to listen while Emma and Gavin talk about the renovations to their place, all the while pushing thoughts of Alessandra out of my head.
“You have somewhere to be?” Cooper asks me when Gavin and the women leave the room to set the table. He claps his hand on my shoulder and gives it a good shake. “You haven’t stopped checking the clock since the second we got here.”
“I, uh, what? No, I’m fine. We have all the time in the world,” I mumble, checking on the fajitas in the oven so I don’t have to look my brother in the eye.
“Yeah, sure, whatever you say, boss,” Cooper grumbles, lazily swirling the wine in his glass. When I don’t respond, he decides to press further. “So, where’s your girlfriend this fine evening? Did we scare her away?”
I bristle slightly at the word girlfriend, not because of what it implies but because I know what Cooper means by it. He’s pushing my buttons, and whether I want to admit it or not, it’s working.
“She’s at work,” I say as I pull the fajitas out of the oven.
I check the clock and my stomach sinks a little. It’s already seven o’clock. Time to get this show on the road.
“Food’s ready,” I say loud enough so the others will hear. I decide to help the process along by plating everyone’s meals and setting them on the counter for them to grab and go.
“Full service.” Emma chuckles, raising her eyebrows as she grabs a plate.
“Yeah, thanks, Quinn,” Corinne chimes in, smiling broadly at me.
My brothers and I shuffle into a line behind the women, picking up our plates and making our way to the dining room. Once we’re all seated, I make a hasty toast about family time and focus on finishing my meal as soon as possible.
“Have you been fasting all day or something?” Gavin asks, shooting me an amused look.
“I think he’s just enjoying his fajitas,” Emma says, poking Gavin’s ribs with her elbow. “It’s delicious, Quinn.”
“Yeah, thanks, Quinn,” everyone chimes in before resuming the usual chatter.
While my family continues their conversation about countertops and flooring, I go back and forth between monitoring the time and everyone else’s plates. I made sure to only prepare enough food for each person to have one plate, carefully divvying out each meal so there wouldn’t be room for seconds. Once everyone finishes eating, I quickly clear all the plates, apologizing for forgetting about dessert.
Slowly, everyone mills into the kitchen to help with cleanup, and by seven-thirty, the place is spotless. As we all stand around the island, chatting casually, I use a natural lull in the conversation to seize my moment.
“Guys, it’s been a pleasure, as always,” I say, clasping my hands together and forcing a warm smile.
My brothers and sisters-in-law all turn and smile at me, seemingly not understanding that I’m trying to get them to leave.
“Can’t wait to do this again next week.” I grin even wider and take a few small steps toward the door.
Gavin furrows his brow, and he and Cooper exchange a slightly annoyed look.
Thankfully, Emma sees the look passed between my brothers and swoops in to save the day. “Well, Quinn, why don’t we get out of your hair. Dinner was lovely. Thanks again,” she says, looping her arm through Gavin’s and pulling him gently toward the door.
Corinne follows suit, thanking me for dinner and taking Cooper’s hand in hers.
Thank God for my sisters-in-law, the saviors of my fucking day.
I follow my guests to the front door, wishing them well and assuring them next week’s meal will be even tastier. My brothers both shoot me one last disapproving look before leaving, but I’m too distracted to care. It’s already seven-forty, and when I looked up directions to Lorraine’s house earlier in the day, my phone said it would take about twenty minutes to get there.
I quickly brush my teeth to eliminate any trace of fajita breath, grab the bag with the toys for the kids, and get into my car. During the drive to Lorraine’s house, that stupid butterfly feeling flutters in my stomach again. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but still, I can’t help but feel a little embarrassed.
I’m thirty-fucking-eight years old. So, why the hell do I suddenly feel twenty-three all over again?
By the time I pull up in front of the house, the light rain that started halfway through my drive has escalated just short of a downpour. I check the clock for the last time. Eight o’clock. Only half an hour before bedtime, but hey, at least I made it.
The nerves haven’t really died down in my stomach, but at this point, I’m more concerned about the growing bulge in my pants. Just thinking about Alessandra brings me right back to the feeling of her velvety skin, the image of her perfect body writhing in pleasure. I run my hands roughly over my face before getting out of the car.
I need to focus. I’m meeting the kids she babysits, for fuck’s sake. This isn’t the time to arrive at her doorstep with a fucking hard-on.
Stepping out into the rain-soaked street and before I take off running for the front door, I take the bag in one hand, quickly locking the car behind me with the other. In the fifteen seconds it takes me to jog from the curb to the door, I wish I’d thought to bring flowers for Alessandra—and an umbrella for me. Too late now, asshole. Hopefully, she finds the slightly damp look endearing.
After three solid knocks, I take a step back and wait for the door to open. I can hear a squeal from the other side of the door, and a child’s voice screaming something I can’t really make out.
Within moments, the door swings open and Alessandra is standing in front of me. I haven’t seen her since breakfast yesterday morning. Even though I know she must be exhausted from watching her little monsters all day, I can’t tell from her face. She’s as radiant and gorgeous as always, somehow still sexy in an oversized gray sweatshirt and leggings.
She smiles at me, and for a moment, neither of us says anything. I can almost hear the energy crackling between us, and already I know—this is going to be one hell of an evening.
Chapter Thirteen
Alessandra
“Erica, can you say hi to Quinn?”
Staring out at Quinn Kingsley on the porch—his navy blazer speckled with rain drops, that perfect half smile on his lips—I feel as though I’m looking into a dream. It hardly feels real that he would wrap up dinner with his family early in favor of keeping me company while I’m watching the munchkins. But here he is, as real as ever, carrying a reusable grocery bag in his arms.
Trading in her usual sass for shyness, Erica peeks her head out from behind me and smiles bashfully before hiding again, her white-blonde hair falling in front of her eyes. It’s unlike her to be this way, but then again, I can’t blame her. I was taken aback the first time I met Quinn, too.
I remember that flustered version of myself who was shocked at her own ability to be flirtatious with a man who was so intense, so easy to get lost in. That was only a couple of weeks ago, but it seems like much longer with everything that’s happened.
“Aren’t you gonna let him in before he gets all rained on?” Shy Erica has disappeared, and Sassy Erica makes her return.
Have I been staring long? My cheeks are warm as I step out of the doorway to let Quinn inside. He squeezes my ass as he walks by and I can’t muffle my gasp, but Erica has already booked it back to the family room, thank God. She’s trying to hold Ben in her small, clumsy arms, obviously showing off for our guest. Again, I totally can’t blame her.
Quinn sets the grocery bag on the kitchen counter and rustles through it for a moment before emerging with a princess doll and a toy fire truck.
“It seems like you have quite a few toys already,” he says, surveying the family room floor, which looks like a Toys“R”Us exploded. “I hope you don’t mind if I add a few more to your collection.”
Erica locks eyes with the doll from across the room, and her face lights up like it’s Christmas morning. She sets Ben back down on his play mat and races toward Quinn, grabbing for her new toy.
“What do you think, will she do?” Quinn says in a kid-friendly voice that I’ve never heard him use before. It’s lighter, softer, more relaxed than his usual intense tone.
He hands the doll to Erica, who giggles, running her fingers over the pink terrycloth onesie the doll is wearing. She’s one of those dolls that looks like a real baby, and Erica is enamored. I used to have a doll like that as a girl, and can still remember the baby-powder scent of her rubbery skin.
Ben, who has crawled into the kitchen, lets out an excited squeal and tugs on Quinn’s pants leg.
“It’s all yours, little guy.” Quinn squats down to meet Ben at eye level and gives the truck a light push across the kitchen tile. Ben claps his tiny hands together and chases after it.
“Don’t worry, I brought presents for you, too,” Quinn calls back to me as the three of them make their way to Ben’s play mat, stepping over carefully built block castles and stuffed-animal tea parties.
I peek into the grocery bag—a plastic container of chicken fajitas and a bottle of pinot noir. I glance at him from across the room, and he gives me a wink.
Am I imagining this? My plan for the evening was to force down the leftover frozen pizza after I put the kids to bed, then maybe text Quinn, fully knowing he might not respond until after his family heads home. My idea of company for the night was whoever was hosting the late-night talk shows. This seems like an alternate reality I could only have dreamed up.
I put the food in the fridge and join the three amigos in the living room, where Quinn has found himself on the bottom of a three-person dog pile. I can’t help but laugh, and none of us stop laughing for the next half hour of playtime.
It almost physically pains me when I have to announce that it’s bedtime. Actually, bedtime was about ten minutes ago, but I didn’t have the heart to stop the kids from playing with their new toys and their new best friend. Luckily, all the playing horsey and wrestling has worn Erica out enough that she only whines a little about having to call it a night.
“Can he come back and play next time?” she pleads, grabbing Quinn’s hand.
“Maybe, we’ll see,” I say, figuring that no, your new best friend has to work his job at his high-profile escort service isn’t the best answer for a six-year-old. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. “C’mon, say good-bye to Quinn so we can go get your jammies on.”
Erica squeezes Quinn into a quick hug before taking off to her room. How does she have any energy left? Meanwhile, Ben is out like a light on his play mat.
“How can I help?” Quinn says, as if he hasn’t helped enough already. Ben has never fallen asleep so easily, and there are faint sounds of the faucet running and Erica brushing her teeth upstairs, which never happens without several bribes first.
I can’t help myself—I grab the lapel of Quinn’s blazer and pull him in for the slow, warm kiss I’ve been waiting to give since I opened that door.
“I can take it from here,” I whisper, squeezing his shoulder and giving him one last peck on the cheek. He shakes his head and smiles, scooping up Ben and laying him in my arms as if he’s done it a thousand times before.
“Ti aspetterò,” he says. I’ll be waiting for you.
I carry Ben upstairs and into the nursery. After changing his diaper and dressing him in his jammies, I carefully lay him in his crib.
Erica has toothpaste all over her pink nightgown, but her teeth are brushed and she’s yawning after I read her only half a princess story, so I call it an overall victory. The story is one I’ve read aloud to her at least a dozen times, a standard fairy tale about a handsome prince who falls in love with a princess, but with Quinn waiting for me downstairs, I’m buying into the fantasy a little more than I usually do. As Erica nods off, I promise we’ll finish the story in the morning.
Once the lights are out and the blankets are tucked in, I descend the stairs to my own personal Prince Charming, who has already heated up my dinner and poured us each a generous glass of wine while he sits on the sofa, awaiting my return. He’s ditched his blazer, and the sleeves of his button-down shirt are pushed up to his elbows. God, does he have any idea how sexy that is?
I nestle in next to him on the couch and he drapes an arm around me, pulling me in tight against him. I press my lips gently to his cheek, then smile as my lips meet his. Quinn lets out a slow exhale of pleasure, followed by a quiet laugh.
“You should eat. Playing with them burns an unbelievable amount of energy,” he teases, motioning to the plate on the coffee table.
I pull away, disappointed to have been cut off. Still, as much as I’d rather be tasting him, I can’t deny that I’m starving. I take a long, much-deserved sip of wine.
“Thank you for all of this—the toys, the playtime, the food.” I take a bite of chicken fajita, which tastes less like leftovers and more like a miracle. It’s almost impossible to believe that for all of his many talents, he also cooks, too. Between the cooking and the kids, I’m starting to believe there’s nothing Quinn Kingsley can’t do.
“You’re very welcome.”
Between bites, I tell Quinn about my day with the kids, which he seems to enjoy even more now that he’s met them. In turn, he tells me about dinner with his family.
“We all missed having you,” he says, and I shyly push a red pepper slice across the plate with my fork. The thought of his family discussing me at dinner simultaneously thrills me and makes my palms sweat.
“It’s getting late. I suppose I should let you get some rest,” he says, glancing at his watch. “If I’m tired from half an hour with the kids, I imagine you must be ready to crash.”
My stomach drops at the mention of him leaving.
“Can you stay just a tiny bit longer?” I smile up at him. “You’ve been wonderful tonight. I can’t let you leave without thanking you.”
“Oh?” His forehead wrinkles as he lifts one inquisitive brow. “What did you have in mind?”
“Be right back.”
I place my dish and the empty wineglasses on the kitchen counter. Then I take Quinn’s hand and lead him from the couch, through the maze of toys and down the hall to the room that I’ll be calling home for the night. It’s Lorraine’s craft room, but in addition to the sewing machine and desk, there’s a futon that she’s folded out into a bed for me, complete with clean white sheets.
I reach for the doorknob, pressing my finger to my lips as a reminder that we’ll have to keep this quiet. Quinn nods, following so close behind me that I can feel the bulge in his pants brush against the small of my back, which makes every muscle in my body clench. It’s a wonder I’ve kept my hands to myself this long.
