Waking Up to You Overexposed

8



MAKING LOVE TO NICK in the back of the van had been erotic and spontaneous and incredibly hot. It had also been a week ago and in that week, Izzie had begun to wonder whether it had really been as amazing as she remembered.

As soon as Nick led her into his bedroom, turned her to face the mirrored door of his closet and slowly began to kiss her neck, she knew it had been. He was so slow—so patient—so deliberate. The man had incredible control and he had used it to drive her absolutely wild.

Izzie had flipped the light switch on as soon as they entered the room, determined to see all, savor all, enjoy every minute of this experience. When Nick studied her in the mirror, consuming her with his eyes, she was very glad she had. She liked watching him watch her. Liked having his eyes on her. And she wanted to watch everything he did to her.

“You’ve been driving me absolutely insane since I saw you that night in the restaurant,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above the sensitive skin below her ear.

“You’ve been driving me insane since you landed on top of me on the cookie table.”

He turned her to face him. “Izzie, I’m sorry I didn’t...”

“I was a kid. You needed to wait until I caught up a little,” she said with a smile.

He glanced down at her, his stare lingering on the scooped neck of her shirt and the clingy fabric hugging her breasts. “You caught up a lot.”

She reached up and unfastened the top button of his shirt, then moved to the next. “Oh, more than you know,” she whispered, feeling incredibly free. A sensual woman capable of knocking him back on his heels the way he’d knocked her back last week.

Their first time together had been about him overwhelming her senses. Tonight it was Izzie’s turn.

She was not going to lie back and take the pleasure he wanted to give her, she intended to give with every lustful molecule in her body. He’d offered her an experience she would remember until the day she died. Now she planned to do the same.

Using the one thing she did best.

She quickly scanned the room, thinking ahead. “Where’d that come from?” she asked, pointing to an old-fashioned straight-backed chair in the corner. It, a simple, immaculately clean dresser and an enormous four-poster bed were the only things in the room. The chair didn’t look at all new like the rest.

“My parents insisted on giving me stuff.... I had to take something and there’s no room for it in the living room.”

“It won’t fit with that TV that’s more suited for the Jolly Green Giant’s living room,” she said with a low laugh. Licking her lips, she pointed to the chair. “Go sit down.”

One of his eyebrows rose, but he obeyed, watching with interest to see what she was up to. Izzie glanced around the room, looking for a radio, a boombox, something.

No luck. Nick’s bedroom was nearly empty, with just the furniture and a smaller TV on the dresser. There wasn’t a piece of clothing on the floor, or a speck of dust anywhere. It was nearly Spartan...military, she assumed. And it lacked the warmth she knew Nick possessed.

She hoped that someday he allow that warmth to spill free and become part of his home as well as a part of his life.

“You got me where you wanted me,” he drawled from the chair. He put his hands behind his head, his fingers laced, and leaned back against the wall. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his forearms bulged and flexed. His big strong legs were sprawled out in front of him and for a second, Izzie was tempted to climb right onto his lap.

She could unzip his jeans, tug them out of the way, release that big erection she could see from here. It would be delicious to slip her panties off, lift her skirt, then slide down onto him to ride him to her heart’s content.

Not yet. First she needed to delight his senses the way he’d delighted hers last week. He’d focused on her sense of touch and smell—she could still inhale and remember that sweet, cheesy filling he’d smeared all over her. And her body tingled at the memory of his lips and tongue removing that filling.

They’d played games with food. She intended to whet his taste buds with something else.

The sight of her body.

Suddenly remembering what he’d done with the TV in the other room, she grabbed the remote control and turned on the bedroom one. Punching in a few numbers—familiar, since she liked listening to the same station at her own apartment—she landed on a channel that played sultry Latina music.

Because luck was a woman, the song was a slower one with a sultry backbeat and a sensuous rhythm. Easy to dance to.

“What are you...”

“Watch me,” she whispered. Watch me and I’ll make you burn.

She began to move, closing her eyes and letting the music roll through her. Since childhood Izzie had had an affinity for music—all types of music. It had always made her want to move. To sway or to spin, to leap or to bend. She just had a dancing gene that demanded release whenever the right beat hit her ears and rolled on down through her body.

This one was perfect for seduction.

Keeping focused on her own instincts—giving herself pleasure by the simple act of moving—she knew Nick would gain pleasure, too. At first she simply danced. Her eyes still closed, she threw her head back and tangled her hand in her hair. Rocking her hips, she gyrated against an imaginary partner, sliding down and up against an invisible thigh, quivering under the touch of a hand that wasn’t there.

She heard Nick groan softly. Licking her lips, she slid her hand down her own body. Her hips still rocking, she touched her stomach, then slid her hand lower, resting her fingertips on her pelvis. Her other hand she moved across her chest, scraping her nipples, already rock hard in anticipation and excitement.

“Izzie...”

“Shh.”

She didn’t look at him, didn’t let him distract her. Instead, she tugged her top free of her waistband. Flicking at the snap and pushing down the zipper of her skirt, she rocked until the thing fell to the floor. She kicked it out of the way, never losing the beat, her body in constant, sensual motion.

Her top came next. She dragged it up—slowly, so slowly—letting the fabric fall back an inch for every two she raised it. She could hear Nick’s ragged breathing over the music. Could hear her own heart pounding in her chest, too. Every move she made was an invitation and a promise.

She pulled the top off, sensual even when untangling her hair from the material. Clad in nothing but a skimpy bra and thong panties, and her high-heeled sandals, she bent over and swung her head, letting her hair fly free.

“You’re killing me here,” he whispered.

“So take care of yourself. Get ready for me,” she replied, coming closer—but not too close. “Do what you want to do when you watch me dance.”

“I want to have you when I watch you dance.”

Tsking, she shook her head in disbelief, still swaying like a woman being sexually aroused by the touch of the musical notes on her body. “Pretend you don’t know you’re going to have me, Nick. Let me see what you’d do then.”

She turned around, her back to him, returning her attention to her dance. Bending at the waist, she put her hands on her thighs and did a booty rock that she knew would drive him out of his ever-loving mind.

His low groan told her it had worked. But Izzie ignored it.

Grabbing the end post of Nick’s bed, she used it, hooking one leg around it and bending back. The wood was hard against her swollen sex, but she needed it—got off on it—rubbing up and down in a way she never rode the pole at the club.

“Izzie,” he whispered hoarsely.

She glanced over and almost smiled in triumph. He’d finished unbuttoning his shirt and it hung from his shoulders.

Even better, his jeans were open, his briefs pushed down. And his hand encircled his huge erection.

“Yes. Imagine it’s me touching you,” she told him.

He never took his eyes off her, beginning to stroke, up and down, his movements timed to match her strokes against the bedpost. But when she let go of it, he didn’t stop.

“The bra,” he ordered.

“Just as the customer desires,” she whispered, taunting him with every bit of her sexuality.

She unfastened the bra, dragging out the moment before it fell away to reveal her breasts. This usually marked the end of one of her numbers, but tonight, Izzie was just getting started. She touched herself, showing him the way she wanted to be touched. Crossing her arms—her hips still rocking—she cupped each breast. Capturing her nipples between her fingers, she tweaked and rolled. The pleasure she gave herself—and the way Nick reacted to it—sent pure liquid want rushing to her sex, already dripping with readiness.

Hearing Nick clear his throat, she glanced over and saw he held a twenty dollar bill in his hand. He was enjoying this game. Getting into the fantasy.

“You have something for me, mister?” she asked, almost purring the words as she danced closer, wearing nothing but her skimpy panties and shoes.

“Uh-huh. But you have to work for it.”

She moved again, closer, stepping over one of his legs to straddle it. She lowered herself closer to his thigh, rocking a few inches above it. Her breasts swayed close to his face. “What’d you have in mind?”

He leaned up, his mouth moving toward her breast.

“Uh-uh, no touching,” she said, easing back a little. “I can touch you...you can’t touch me.”

“Those the rules?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Not sure how long I’ll be able to obey them.”

“You’ll just have to keep your hands busy elsewhere until I say you can break them.”

He flexed his hand again, lazily working the erection that still jutted out of his unfastened pants. “That means the rules will eventually be broken?”

She bent down again, low, brushing her silky panties over his strong thigh. “If you’re very, very good.” Her mouth watering, she inched closer, so her leg could brush against all that male heat. He instinctively arched toward her, branding her with that ridge of flesh that had given her such intense pleasure last week.

She wanted it. Badly. In every way it was possible for a woman to take it.

“You want a lap dance, mister?” she asked in her heavy, Crimson Rose whisper.

His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t know you gave them.”

“I don’t. But you’re an extra-special customer.”

Izzie had never done this particular type of dance, but she figured she could fake it. Frankly, she didn’t think Nick would care if she didn’t get it exactly right.

So she went with her instincts. With both hands on the back of the chair, she swayed over him, brushing her breasts against his cheeks, shivering at the delicious roughness of his skin. She danced above him, writhing just above one leg, then the other, then straddling both. He watched with glittering eyes, groaning with need as she taunted him—coming close, so close—then pulling away.

“Gonna have to break that rule soon, lady,” he growled.

“We’ll see.”

Driving them both closer to the brink of insanity, she dipped lower than she’d ever gone, until the silky wet fabric between her thighs met his arousal and set them both completely on fire. He grabbed her hips, helping her rock up and down on him until they both moaned with the pleasure of it.

“You’re touching,” she said.

He thrust up harder, the hot tip of his erection easing into her, bringing her silky panties along. “I’m going to be touching you a lot more in a minute.”

Oh, she liked playing these wicked, sexy games with Nick. It was unlike anything she’d ever done with anyone before, and Izzie sensed she could be happy playing bedroom games with him and only him for a very long time.

“But you still haven’t paid me.” She licked the side of his neck, biting lightly on his nape. Feeling the scrape of the bill against her skin, she pulled away just enough to watch him slip it into her panties. “Big tipper.”

“You’re worth every penny.”

“I think maybe you should get a little bonus for being such a good customer.”

She needed a little bonus herself. Needed to do something she’d been aching to do since she’d first seen him take off his pants in the back of the van.

Sliding back, she lowered herself to the floor, then moved between his thighs. She reached for his hand, covering it with hers, mimicking his slow, easy movements up and down his erection. Eventually she pushed his hand away, pleasuring him with her fingers and her palm. Encircling him as best she could, she slid down to the base of his shaft, then eased back up. She trailed her fingers across the thick, bulbous head to moisten them with his body’s juices, then repeated the motion.

But it wasn’t quite enough. Izzie inched forward, wetting her lips with her tongue.

“Iz...”

“Let me,” she murmured.

She didn’t wait for permission. Kneeling between his spread thighs, she drew closer, flicking out her tongue for a quick taste of the sac pulled up tight beneath his erection.

He jerked up, thrusting harder into her hand, which still encircled him. Izzie didn’t stop. Parting her fingers to make way for her mouth, she licked her way from the base of his shaft all the way up to its tip. “You taste so good, Nick,” she whispered before flicking her tongue out to catch more of that fluid dripping out of him.

“So do you.” Still sprawled out before her, he tangled his hands in her hair. “But I’m hungry. I want some, too.”

Mmm...mutual oral pleasure. She’d love to savor that experience with Nick. But for right now, she wanted to concentrate on him. So, ignoring his comment, she moved over the thick, pulsing head of his cock and took it into her mouth. As she sucked, he hissed. The deeper she went—taking as much as she could—the louder his groans.

Shifting around for better access, Izzie began to slowly make love to him with her mouth, getting off on hearing him get off. She slid up and down, taking more with every stroke, wanting to swallow him all the way down, though he was, of course, much too big for that. But she gave it her all, focused on his sounds of pleasure, the smell of sex rolling off his body, the feel of his hands delicately stroking her hair and the back of her head.

“Ride me, Izzie,” he whispered, not demanding but pleading. “Come up here and take me.”

Take him. Izzie had never had a man beg her using those words, though she, herself, had spoken them. She found herself liking the sensuous power of it. He didn’t just want her, he needed her. Was desperate for her.

With one last little suck, she pulled her mouth away and looked up at him. He was staring down at her, his dark brown eyes gleaming with want. Reaching for her shoulders, he began to tug her up and repeated his plea. “Take me, Izzie.”

Offering him a half smile, she rose to her knees. She was nearly naked, but Nick was still half wearing his clothes. So she reached for his waistband and pulled his pants and briefs down. He lifted up to help her, kicking his shoes off and his clothes with them. His shirt fell off his shoulders with a simple shrug, and now the tables were turned—she was the only one wearing a stitch of clothes.

It was, of course, a tiny stitch. And as she rose to her feet, Nick didn’t take his eyes off it. Reaching for her hips, he tugged her closer until he caught the elastic seam of her panties with his teeth. Nudging them down, he tasted her with two quick, heart-stopping flicks of his tongue. Her * swelled against his lips. “Please,” she whispered, not knowing what she needed more—for him to lick her into an orgasm, or to tear her panties off and plunge down onto him.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he murmured, returning his mouth to her most sensitive spot. Taking her hips in his hands, he pushed the panties down and nuzzled in deep in her curls.

Feeling a climax rocket through her, Izzie threw her head back and groaned. She was still groaning when Nick tugged her down over him. He glanced at his jeans. “My pocket...”

“We’re safe,” she assured him since she was on the pill. “As long as you’re comfortable with that.”

“Oh, I am so comfortable with that,” he muttered hoarsely. “I cannot wait to feel you wrapped around me, skin to skin.”

Straddling him, her toes on the floor, Izzie rubbed against him, loving the tangle of his chest hair on her rock-hard nipples. Nick dipped his head down to suck one of them, hard and demanding. “Ride me,” he ordered, his mouth still at her breast.

She eased onto him, taking the hot tip into her wet channel a little at a time. He was right—skin to skin was incredible. She could feel every beat of his pulse through his velvety smooth erection.

“Can’t...take much...” he said through choppy breaths.

As if he’d reached his breaking point, he squeezed her hips and thrust up, impaling her hard and deep. “Oh, Nick,” she groaned, shocked at the full intensity of it.

It took her a second to catch her breath, he filled her so deeply. But when she did, she had to move. Had to slide up and then ease back down. She rode with slow strokes, her arms on his shoulders, looking down into his face as he stared up into hers.

Nick lifted one hand and cupped her cheek, drawing her toward him. Covering her lips with his, he kissed her deeply, sliding his tongue in and out of her mouth in strokes matched by the ones deep inside her core.

The kiss went on and on, slowing or growing frenzied in mirror reactions to the movements of their bodies. Izzie rode him, took him as he’d demanded, using muscles she didn’t even remember she had to stretch out their pleasure.

Their position was perfect for pleasing her both inside and out. And within moments, the friction on her * provided her with another mind-blowing orgasm.

Finally, though, her legs began to weaken. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take. As if he knew, Nick wrapped his arms around her, cupping her backside, and rose from the chair.

The strength of the man defied description.

Still buried deep within her, he continued kissing her as he walked the few steps to the bed. He dropped her on her back, coming down with her, and took over control.

“Yes, Nick,” she gasped, her legs around his lean hips.

He didn’t reply. He was gone now, mentally just gone, at the mercy of his wildly plunging body. Izzie held on for the ride, whispering frantic words of pleasure, telling him how much he pleased her.

Until she, too, was incapable of words. Together they lost themselves to the power of it until Nick shouted and came deep inside her, sending Izzie spiraling over the edge again, too.

* * *

BRIDGET HAD BEEN thinking about her cousin’s words nearly all night Thursday. So much so that she barely slept and climbed out of bed long before her alarm went off Friday morning.

If there was one thing Izzie knew, it was men. And if she thought Bridget hadn’t been sending out strong enough signals to Dean, she was probably right.

Izzie would make her interest more obvious.

So that’s what Bridget would do.

That morning, she dressed for work a bit more carefully than usual. Her regular workday attire was typically a pair of pastel capris or a pair of slacks and a blouse. Today, she shimmied into a yellow skirt that cupped her butt like she’d sat in a tub of butter. Pulling a tight white tank top on with it, she glanced in the mirror and was surprised at what she saw.

She didn’t look much like Bridget, the nice, smiling bookkeeper. In fact, she looked sexy. She had curves...nice ones. Her breasts were high and shapely, highlighted by the scooped neck of the tank top. And while she didn’t have especially long legs, they looked pretty good in the skirt.

Feeling almost armored for battle, she donned a lightweight sweater—which she intended to remove as soon as she saw her quarry—and headed to work. She wanted to get there early so she could get used to walking around the office in the minuscule skirt and high-heeled sandals without tripping and making a fool of herself.

Usually, she was the first one at the dealership, anyway. The lot didn’t open to customers until ten o’clock, with most of the sales staff showing up around nine...a half hour or so after her regular starting time. By the time she got to the lot, it was only seven-thirty, an hour early even for her.

The inside was dark, as expected, and as she entered, she reached for the switch to turn on the bank of overhead lights. But before she did it, something caught her eye...a sliver of light coming from beneath the door to the business office. Where she usually worked.

She supposed she could have forgotten to turn the light off last night when she left. But she was still cautious as she approached. This was a pretty safe area, but occasional robberies certainly weren’t unheard of. She wasn’t about to open the door and surprise some junkie looking for a petty cash box.

When she got to within a few feet of the nearly closed door, she heard a voice from inside. She tensed for the briefest second, then recognized the voice and relaxed.

It was Dean. He’d obviously shown up early for work. Though she didn’t hear whoever he was talking to, she figured someone else must have come in early, too.

Too bad. Had he been alone, she might have been able to put her “send stronger signals” plan into action. If, of course, she had the nerve, which was questionable.

Reaching for the knob, she paused when she heard Dean speak again, answering a question she hadn’t heard asked. That was when she realized the conversation was one-sided. He was talking on the phone to someone.

Not wanting to eavesdrop, she stepped away, catching only the snippet of a comment Dean made. Something about a deal going down. Sounded like their star salesman had landed another buyer—one who liked to close deals very early in the morning.

When she heard his voice stop, she figured she’d see if he was done, and knocked once on the door. Feeling a little foolish—since she was, in essence, knocking on her own office door—she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

“Good morning, early bird,” she said.

He jerked his head up, so surprised he dropped his cell phone right onto the floor near her feet.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. Normally, she’d wait quietly and let him pick up the phone himself. But Izzie’s words kept ringing in her ears. So instead, she carefully bent at the knees, reaching down to pick it up for him. She kept one hand on her skirt, to hold it in place, but Bridget couldn’t deny that it slid up several inches, high on her thighs, despite that.

Still appearing shocked, Dean didn’t say a word. His narrowed eyes were locked on her thighs. His jaw was visibly clenched and he breathed over parted lips.

He looked...hungry. Just as she’d seen him look at her once or twice in the past. More than that, he seemed dangerous. Not nice Dean looking at a pair of woman’s legs, but wickedly sexy Dean looking at a pair of woman’s legs and imagining them wrapped around his waist.

She could do that. She could definitely do that. Whether it was what Izzie would do or not.

It is.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him the cell phone.

He took it from her, their fingers brushing lightly. Standing, he stuffed the phone in his pocket. His lean face looked weary, as if he hadn’t slept well.

“So, was it worth your early trip in?” she asked, knowing she sounded coy. She couldn’t help channeling Izzie a little bit. “Everything...satisfactory?”

His pale blue eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, did you get whatever deal you’re working on taken care of this morning?”

He nodded slowly. “The deal. Yeah. It’s all good.”

“Good. You might set another sales record this month.”

With a casual manner she had never suspected she could pull off, she tossed her purse onto her desk, which was laden with files, legal paperwork and financial stuff. Holding on to her courage, she slipped her sweater off her shoulders. She had to move close to Dean—very close—to reach the coatrack on the wall. Her arm brushed against his as she lifted the sweater onto one of the hooks.

“Bridget...”

Smiling, she turned and glanced up at him. “Yes?”

He wasn’t looking at her face, his attention was focused lower. On the scooped neck of her tight spandex tank top. The heat in his stare warmed her all over and she felt her body reacting to it. A lazy river of want flowed through her veins. She clenched her thighs in response to it. But there was no way to disguise the way her breasts grew heavier, her nipples hardening to twin points that poked against her shirt.

He noticed. Most definitely.

Swallowing hard, he growled, “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trolling for men at a club rather than working with a bunch of used-car salesmen and wrench jockeys at an auto shop?” he asked, his tone harsh.

Bridget instinctively stepped back. A little hurt. A little confused. “I just...” Channel Izzie. WWID? Taking a deep breath, she tilted her head back and jutted her chin out. “What business is it of yours what I wear to work?”

He reached for her, grabbing her arm as if he couldn’t help himself. “Put your sweater back on.”

“Make me.”

His whole body tense with frustration, he lifted his other hand and grabbed her other arm. Bridget wasn’t sure what he was going to do—shake her or haul her into his arms and kiss her.

She was most definitely hoping for option two.

She should have been intimidated, maybe even scared given his size. But she already knew he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. He was attracted to her, she was sure of it now, and he just didn’t know what to do about that attraction since they were coworkers.

“Either take your hands off me or do something with them,” she snapped, still thinking the way her cousin would.

“Damn it, Bridget.”

But before he could do either one, they heard the sound of voices coming from right outside the door. They weren’t, it appeared, the only two who’d arrived to work early.

Dean instantly released her and stepped away. He shook his head, as if to clear it, and eyed her warily. Finally he said, “I really think you should put your sweater on.”

Bridget hid a smile, liking the tiny thrill of power she felt at having this big handsome man react so strongly to her. Crossing her arms in front of her chest—which pressed her breasts even higher and harder against her top—she shook her head. “I don’t think so, Dean. If you don’t like the way I’m dressed...I suggest you don’t look at me.”

Knowing her bravado wasn’t going to last for much longer, she sashayed past him, out onto the showroom floor to greet the other salesmen who’d arrived. Leaving Dean watching her with eyes that blazed like the sun.

* * *

IZZIE HAD SPENT the night in Nick’s arms, but she’d slipped away early—around dawn. Knowing the bakery would open soon, he didn’t protest.

He wanted to, of course, but he kept his mouth shut.

Izzie’s whole reason for being here in Chicago was her devotion to her family’s business. He wouldn’t even think of interfering with that. Because he liked her working at the bakery. Right here close by.

As for her other job, at the club? Well, that, Nick had to admit, might be a tougher proposition. He hadn’t yet been tested, but he didn’t imagine it would be easy watching the woman he was absolutely crazy about take her clothes off for a roomful of other men. Especially since he’d almost certainly be picturing what had happened last night, when she’d taken her clothes off only for him.

It had been the most unbelievable night of his life. And he had to wonder how she’d had the strength to get up and walk this morning considering he’d spent so much of the night between her legs.

Izzie wasn’t the only one who had to go to work. Nick had promised Tony he’d help him handle the delivery of a new wall oven at Santori’s. So after showering, he got dressed and walked the few blocks up to Taylor. He passed right by Natale’s on the way, but, mindful of Izzie’s feelings, he didn’t pop in. It felt strange as hell to walk on by and not say hello to the woman he’d made love to in so many wild, different ways the night before.

But she wanted their relationship to remain entirely between them. Meaning he couldn’t single her out, couldn’t grab her hand in public, couldn’t ask her to do so much as walk across the street with him.

“This is gonna suck,” he muttered aloud as he reached the restaurant. He had no idea how long he’d be able to maintain this secret, nighttime-only relationship with Izzie.

He only hoped she’d change her mind. That she’d realize she didn’t have to give up herself to become part of a relationship with him.

A relationship. Yeah. He wanted one. He was falling for her in a big way, just as he’d suspected he could when he’d seen her looking so bored and aloof on the other side of Santori’s all those weeks ago.

It was pretty ironic, really. He was starting to think he really could have found the perfect woman. He was already falling in love with her. And a union between them would absolutely delight everyone in both their families.

But Izzie didn’t want one.

“Women,” he muttered as he pushed into the restaurant.

His brother Tony, who’d been standing right inside the door, greeted him with a clap on the back. “Can’t live with ’em...but they’re sure as hell better than living alone.”

As usual, his larger-than-life older brother coaxed a smile out of him.

Fridays were usually busy at Santori’s, so the day flew by quickly. And, as usual, the rest of his family started drifting in after their workdays had ended. By eight o’clock, all of his brothers were here with their wives and kids, as was his sister, along with her new husband. Those two were cuddling like the newlyweds they were. Though he’d been skeptical, given what he knew about Simon Lebeaux’s shady past, even Nick had to admit the two of them were obviously crazy about each other.

Besides, if Lebeaux could put up with his mouthy little sister, he had to be one hell of a strong man.

“Come on, take a load off,” Mark said to Nick as he emerged from the kitchen, where he’d been helping his father.

“Yeah, I guess my slave-driver boss will let me knock off now,” he replied, glancing over his shoulder at Tony, who stood in the swinging doorway.

“Not boss...partner,” his brother reminded him with a grin.

Uh, no. Not in Nick’s opinion. But he still hadn’t wanted to have that conversation.

His siblings and their families took up several tables in the restaurant—tables that would probably have been appreciated by the paying customers lining up near the front counter. But Mama would never dream of shooing them out to free up the space. She clucked around, ordering them all to eat, cooing over the grandbabies and beaming when Noelle, Mark’s wife, offered to let her feel the baby kicking in her stomach.

In Nick’s opinion, that was Twilight Zone stuff. But all the women got into it, and Mark looked like he thought it was the coolest thing since Optimus Prime and the Transformers. Nick, however, was freaked by the very idea. The only thing he wanted to feel moving around inside a woman was his own cock. A baby? Forget it.

Unless the woman was Izzie.

The thought was crazy—bothersome, even. But it wouldn’t leave his head.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Gloria called, waving toward the front door. “My baby sister! How you doin’, Iz?”

Nick immediately swung around, seeing Izzie at the counter.

“Ah, Isabella, you haven’t been to see me too much. What’s wrong with you, eh?” Mama said as she bustled over. She cupped Izzie’s face in her hands, pressing a kiss on her forehead, then grabbed her arm and dragged her over.

Smacking Lucas on the shoulder, she said, “Move over and make room for Gloria’s little sister.”

“Yes, ma’am,” his older brother said with a grin. Luke was the next oldest above Nick and Mark and, as a prosecutor, was used to ordering other people around. But, like all of them, he couldn’t refuse a command from their bossy mother.

“How’s everything, Iz?” he asked as he stood and moved his chair out of the way. “You remember Rachel, right?”

Izzie nodded, smiling at Luke’s pretty blonde wife, the only fair-haired one of the bunch. A die-hard Southerner, she’d somehow made herself fit in so well that Nick couldn’t imagine what the family would be like without her.

Fortunately, the room Mama had forced Luke to make was between his chair and Nick’s. Rosa Santori stole an unused chair from a nearby table and slid it in place, nearly pushing Izzie down onto it. Which had Nick ready to kiss his mother’s hand, even though Izzie looked less than happy.

“I was just picking something up for dinner on the way home from work,” she said, sounding almost dazed at how quickly she’d been shanghaied into a family dinner.

He understood the feeling. His mother was a powerhouse.

“Such a silly girl,” Mama said. “You will eat here, with the family. You’re one of us!” Trying to squeeze past her to get back to the kitchen, Mama said, “Scooch over a bit, eh?” and she pushed on Izzie’s chair until it was so close to Nick’s their thighs touched under the table.

Nick would lay money that his mother had done it on purpose. When he saw the smirk on her face as she left to check on dinner, he knew it was true.

Everyone wanted them to hook up. If only they knew...

“Hey, Isabella,” he whispered from the side of his mouth.

She kicked him under the table.

“So, how do you like being back in Chi-town, Izzie?” his brother Joe asked. “Guess it’s pretty tame and unexciting after your life in New York. You must really need a creative outlet.”

There was a surprising twinkle in Joe’s eye. As he and Izzie exchanged a long stare, Nick began to have a suspicion that Joe knew a little more than he’d let on about Izzie’s nighttime life. Remembering the way Joe had steered him toward the job, and had been so adamant about Nick taking care of the “featured dancer” at Leather and Lace, he had to wonder if Joe had seen Izzie there during the renovations.

“It’s okay,” Izzie replied. Smiling, she added, “I’m just busy trying to avoid resuming my cannoli addiction. They’re my absolute weakness.”

Everyone at the table laughed. Except Nick. Because there’d been a sultry purr in her voice and he believed she’d been speaking only to him.

When he felt her hand—concealed by the red-and-white-checked tablecloth—drop onto his leg, he was sure of it.

There was something really hot about having a woman you were supposed to just be casually friends with feel you up under a dinner table. Especially when that table was filled with curious family members who would love to see any sign of interest between the only two singles there.

Izzie was careful. So they definitely didn’t see her hand creep up his leg to trace the outline of his dick. That, he assumed, would be taken as a definite sign of interest.

He was going to make the woman pay for her sensual torment. Right now, however, he was enjoying it too much to try slipping his hand down to beat her at her own game.

The conversation soon resumed, Izzie falling into it as if she’d never been away. She traded barbs with his brothers, reminisced with his sister Lottie about their school days.

She fit. She just fit. Like a normal neighborhood girl.

But no normal neighborhood girl he knew would be working Nick’s zipper down, reaching in and pulling him free of his trousers. She definitely wouldn’t be brushing the tips of her wicked fingers across his cock, arousing him until he hardened into her hand.

This was incredibly dangerous. If someone dropped a fork and bent over to get it, they’d get an eyeful.

But Nick didn’t give a damn. Maybe he and Izzie couldn’t be the “normal” couple the neighborhood would like to see. Somehow, though, this was better. Having an erotic secret...and acting on that secret in public where they could be exposed, was mind-blowing.

It made him hot. It made him desperate.

It made him finish his dinner quickly and declare himself so tired he had to call it a night.

And thankfully, Izzie found an excuse of her own, followed him out the door and led him to her place for another long night of the wildest sex he’d ever had.