Page 3 of Private Reserve
I stay like that for a long time, working to catch my breath as groans and a lot of curses reach my ears. When I’m finally able to see again, I peek down to catch Blue Hat throwing his head back. He’s gripping the guy’s hips for leverage and depleting himself inside.
“So fucking good,” he groans.
The man on his knees shoots into his hand, then they both collapse on to the grass, rolling on their backs. I duck away as they break apart, my heart crashing so hard against my chest, I’m sure it’s going to explode. That was…Jesus, I want to say amazing, but that doesn’t even begin to describe the hunger they just displayed.
I hurry inside, quietly close the door behind me, and collapse on my bed, fanning my arms and legs out, desperate to cool my overheated, needy body. Outside the guys are talking quietly, but I can’t hear their muffled whispers through my closed door. Exhaustion overtakes me, my eyes fall shut, the vision of the two of them groping each other still buzzing through my brain.
Why on earth can’t I inspire that kind of passion in a guy?
All I ever get is sweet, gentle lovemaking. I am seriously so tired of the vanilla. Yeah, sure my dad is a minister, but come on, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be forced to my knees and taken hard. If only I had it in me to open my mouth and just ask for what I want. I can’t seem to do it, though. Probably because I’ve been lectured and browbeaten my whole life.
Sex is for procreating, Olivia. Anything out of the norm is socially unacceptable—wrong.
Dammit, I want wrong. The whole time I was with him, I’d wanted it wrong. What I wouldn’t have given for my ex to do depraved things with me. But no, he treated me with respect, which meant slow, gentle sex the missionary way. Don’t get me wrong. It was good, but I wanted more…needed more…had a deeper craving to be flipped over and corrupted.
I quiver as I think about that, and deep between my legs, my sex clenches one last time. Unfortunately, men see me as a nice girl. Respectable. Private and reserved. That’s what you get when you’re the daughter of a minister—a goddamn gentleman in bed.
I want a savage.
I want to be turned and twisted. I want to be ravaged and ridden. I want to be made to do things. Dirty things. Like watch two guys make out, then have them both take me—own me.
So what am I going to do about it?
Chapter Two
Gio
My leg bounces restlessly under the table as I glance at the freshly baked breads and the eggs, meats, and cheeses spread out on the linen before me. I lift my head, rake my hands through my hair, and meet my father’s eyes—eyes that mirror my own—as it is in the Rossi family.
“Look,” I begin for the hundredth time, even though I’m well aware that no matter what I say, no matter how many graphs and charts, how many brochures and ideas I present, I’ll never be able to change my father’s mind. The business is his to run, and he damn well plans to do things his way until I’m allowed to take over. “Business is declining rapidly. We need to make some big changes around here and draw in a younger crowd.”
My father chews on a piece of buttered bread, takes a sip of his coffee, and looks at me thoughtfully. Beside him, my grandfather, with the same blue eyes—Mediterranean blue my ex, Olivia, use to call mine—keeps his focus on his food, but I know he’s taking it all in, remaining quiet until he has something important to say.
“Son,” Dad begins. “We’ve been over this. I understand you think you’re ready to take over the business, make changes, but we follow tradition in this family. We have for hundreds of years, and we’re not about to change that now.”
For Christ’s sake, I have a NYU business degree under my belt. I have what it takes to run the place, and I want a chance to do it and turn over a profit before we lose it all. When I left here for college years ago, I had planned to work at my uncle’s marketing firm, but a situation with my girlfriend—or rather, ex-girlfriend now—had me returning. Since I’ve come home, business has been on a decline, and I can’t stand to sit back and watch it happen. But until I marry, no way will the family let me take over and make changes—because that’s how it is in the Rossi family.
Except marriage isn’t in my future, not after walking out on the only girl I ever loved. I did it to protect her—from me. Yeah, I might be a good man, honorable, but when it comes to Olivia, I only have so much strength.
My mom sits down beside me, her gaze sympathetic, but she can’t change my father’s mind, either. Not that I think she wants to. No, she wants me married, too—a sign of maturity they say, which is ridiculous. Frustration builds inside me, and my leg shakes harder. Can’t they see we could lose the place? Was being married and following tradition more important than keeping the villa that has been in our family for generations? Guess so, since my dad won’t budge. So what the fuck am I supposed to do?
“What about Olivia, that nice girl you met in college?” Mom asks for the umpteenth time since I’ve returned home. Honest to fuck, I’m sick of her bringing up Olivia. It’s over between us. And while I know she’s trying to be helpful, I don’t want to have this discussion right now. “You used to talk about her all the time when you came home for the holidays, and I’ve not seen you date anyone since you returned for good. I think you might still be holding out for her.”
My entire body stiffens. Did my mother really think I was about to call my ex-girlfriend out of the blue, ask her to give up everything, move to Tuscany, and marry me? Yeah, like that’s going to happen. Beside, she hates me, and even though I’ve never stopped thinking of her, never been able to get over her, she’s too nice, too sweet for a guy like me. I did what I had to do to protect her, and that meant up and leaving when she talked about a future after college. I bite the inside of my mouth and try to block the haunted look she gave me when I left, the look that that still pains me to this day.
I try to swallow past the lump in my throat but I can’t. Shit, it still fucking hurts.
“Whatever happened between you two, anyway?” Dad asks.
“Nothing,” I say much too quickly, too harshly.
Grandpa lifts his head, and those blue Rossi eyes lock on mine. “So then, maybe you should think about it.”
Grandpa and I have a stare off. Seconds turn into minutes, and I feel something inside me soften. Fuck, maybe he’s right. Maybe I should call Olivia. Grandpa shouldn’t be working the front counter because our tight budget can’t afford new staff. The changes I want to make will draw in a new crowd, fresh blood, but I can’t put any new plans in place if I’m not married. Stupid, fucking family tradition. My stomach tightens. Maybe I should call her, beg her to forgive me…hide the side of me that would surely frighten the hell out of a sweet girl like her.
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” I say to appease them. I’m pretty sure my entire family knows about Luca and me, and while they seem to quietly accept what’s between us, they really want me to take a wife. I wonder if it’s important to them for tradition, or because they really know how much I care about Olivia. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and toss it onto the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”
My mom and dad both nod, and their whispered words reach my ears as I step out of the dining room and make my way outside. I have a load of paperwork on my desk, but I need to talk to Luca. My best friend always knows the right things to say when I’m in a shit mood.
