Page 14 of Sinful Temptations

The one that said, ‘thank you, boss, you’re the best’ when really, I wanted to stab a pencil through his eyeball.

But I didn’t think I’d mastered the ‘I’m getting lucky’ smile.

When my insides purred like a cat, I wondered if maybe I had. But this tour wasn’t about me. It was about Roman. I bumped my hip right back at him. “What about you? Any of the women in our group grab your attention?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I do. All of them.”

“Ha-ha. You’re funny.”

“Jesus, Roman, are you blind? The women I was standing with were drooling over you.”

He pursed his lips. “No, they weren’t.”

“Uhhh, yeah they were.”What the hell?He really didn’t see it. I studied his handsome features. Could it be that this Italian God really didn’t know how stunning he was? It’d be a first to meet a guy in that category. In my thirty-one tours with Vacation Dreamz, I’d met a lot of hot, single men, and maybe it was the energy of being a tourist that brought out their cockiness, but just about every one of them thought their shit didn’t stink.

“I’m going to take these guys to that bar I went to lastmonth. There’s no need to ask you if you want to come. Right?”

I smiled up at him. “I’m that obvious, huh?”

“It’s not a bad thing. You have my number if you need me. If not, I’ll see you in the morning.”

A flicker of something flashed across his eyes—concern, disappointment, confusion? Whatever it was, I couldn’t read it. Roman really did need fixing. After tonight, I was going to kick my wing-woman skills into overdrive.

Roman’s smile lit up his face, and rubbing his hands together, he turned from me and strode to the men. “All right, guys, finish your drinks. Let’s get going.”

The nine of us crammed into the elevator, and I remained silent as their excited banter bounced from one thing to the next. Not for the first time, I wished I was a master at small talk.

That missing skill was probably a remnant from my childhood when I spent nearly every waking moment trying to dodge discussions. I preferred to play with stray, flea-bitten animals than risk revealing just how different I was.

Any other single, twenty-nine-year-old woman riding an elevator with eight hot, available men would’ve practically humped the leg nearest to her.

I wasn’t like other women.

My crazy childhood had instigated my detachment from my female counterparts and the void had grown greater as each birthday had rolled around. I was as freaky as a third nipple. But this freaky chick was about to get her freak on with Pierre.Yay, me.

In my room, I brushed my teeth and fiddled with my wild hair until I gave up. I contemplated applying a few products from my first collection of makeup in decades, that the lovely assistant at Selfridges had helped me choose. Foundation maybe? Lipstick? Or a touch of powder or rouge? But then Iremembered Pierre’s comment that he hated women who hid behind a façade. With the image of his gorgeous chocolate eyes devouring me with their intensity, I grabbed my bag and trotted out my door.

In the elevator, I tugged at my new top, adjusting it over my bust. It was a simple white blouse with a dozen cute pearl buttons down the middle that added a touch of class. I’d deliberately left the top button undone. Usually, I hid my body from prying eyes. Especially my breasts.

But last month, being naked in front of those stunning men, Pierre, Luca, and even Oscar, had changed me. Based on their reactions, they’d all liked what they’d seen. And I’d liked watching them watch me.

Mother had started my hatred for my body. William had taken that hatred to a level of disgust. They’d made me believe I was a freak.

But thanks to my newfound libido, I’d learned that being a freak wasn’t so bad. My body wasn’t hideous, it was just different.

Different in a good way.

Strolling along Avenue de Saint-Gwendolyn, still hyper-aware of my sexy lingerie, I admired the twinkle lights embellishing the trees. I inhaled the delicious aromas the restaurants somehow managed to waft out their doors. And I smiled like a woman who was about to get lucky.

Ha, Roman was right—I probably do havethatsmile.

And I feel so freakin’ sexy.

Who’d have thought a touch of lacy lingerie could do that? I couldn’t wait to see Pierre’s expression as I undressed. To feel his warm hands caress my breasts. To be swept up in his passion.

I picked up my pace.

---