Page 81 of Casanova LLC

I closed the oven door and slowly stood. So much for trade secrets. “Guest.”

She lifted the breadstick to her mouth. “I’ll admit it, real relationships are scary as hell. What you’re doing is pretty genius, actually. All the pleasure, none of the pain.” She absently stuck the breadstick in her mouth. My eyes went to it. Or, more accurately, to her lips around it.

She noticed. “So you must be able to control not getting hard, too.”

“Yup.”

The tip of her tongue flicked out. “Really.”

I gave her a scolding look. “Really.”

“Are you sure?” She stuck the whole of it in her mouth. And drew it slowly back out.

“Claire. This is not a game you can win.”

Doe eyes. Hadn’t seen that from her before. “Call me curious.”

I laughed. “Fine. Why not.” I leaned back against the opposite counter and crossed my arms. “Take your best shot.”

The problem was, I’d had a semi this whole time. The conversation hadn’t been sexy, but somehow everything with her was sexy. “Wait, hang on.” I closed my eyes. Took some deep breaths. Cleared my mind. Went soft. I opened my eyes. “Go ahead.”

Her lips were pressed together, trying not to laugh. And it was so cute. Her on the counter like that, breadstick in her hand, bare feet dangling, hair still a bit damp. Looking like a different person than an hour ago.

I needed her to go sit in another room. In the canal. In Florence.

She lifted the breadstick to her mouth and bit it in half.

“Oh, that’ll do it.”

She laughed. And it was throaty and luxurious and ball-tightening.

She tipped her head back against the cabinet door, looking at me through heavy lids.

Her legs parted slightly, sliding along the marble counter.

She brought the hand that wasn’t holding the breadstick to her chest. Stroked it downward toward the robe’s belt. With painful slowness, she untied it. She put the breadstick back in her mouth, then put her hands behind her, arching her back, causing the robe to separate, revealing a wide expanse of her chest and stomach.

“What are you thinking of right now?”

“England.”

She shrugged, one shoulder, then the other. The robe slipped off, pooling on the counter.

I hadn’t seen her full-on before. Bowl-of-cream tits. Gumdrop nipples.

“And now?”

“Now what?”

Those mounds trembled when she chuckled. “What are you thinking of now?”

I took a breath. “The United Kingdom, which is comprised of England, Scotland, Wales, and Northern—” She pushed the sides of the robe off her hips. “Northern Ireland.”

“And now?”

I couldn’t help it. My eyes dipped. “PETA. Baby seals. Being clubbed.”

She giggled. She lifted her legs. Put her heels on the counter. “Now?”

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