Page 22 of Wishing Stone

“Hmmm,” I hummed as I leaned in and pressed my lips to the shell of her ear. “You look so good standing here in those heels. What do you say we skip the dinner portion of this date night and go right to dessert?”

I heard her breath catch. When she angled her head to give me access to her neck, I grinned. For as feisty as she could be, I loved that she submitted so easily under my touch. Moving my lips over the line of her jaw, I slid my tongue down the curve of her neck, nipping and suckling across her collar bone and shoulders.

Making my way back up to her ear, I whispered, “Do you remember that day, over four years ago, when I found you at La Biga and wanted to talk to you about a job offer?”

“I remember. I was mad at you for hijacking my phone,” she breathed. Her hands were in my hair now, gripping at the roots and encouraging me to take more.

“I also told you that I wanted you naked,” I reminded her as I rimmed the shell of her ear with my tongue.

“I remember that, too. You said, ‘Any way I can have you. Preferably naked.’ How could I forget? I thought you were crazy because we’d barely just met.”

Stepping forward, I nudged her back until she was against the wall. Pressing the entire length of my body against hers, I shoved her skirt up until it bunched around her hips. Then, reaching between her legs, I cupped her sex. She instinctively pushed her pelvis against my hand, and I could feel her heat through her panties. Every thought I’d had that day coalesced into a solitary, forceful need, and I nearly dropped to my knees, wanting nothing more than to taste her. My cock thickened painfully, so desperate to be sheathed in her velvety warmth. It took all the restraint I could muster to hold back and stick to my plan.

“What happened after I said that?” I asked as I used my free hand to pinch one of her nipples through the lacy texture of her bra. To my satisfaction, it instantly tightened into a hard knot. I pulled the lace away from her breast and replaced it with my palm.

“You asked me out to dinner—no. That’s not right. It was more like you ordered me to dinner,” she added breathily as she lifted a leg to scissor it around my thigh. Thrusting her hips forward, she sought out the friction that the hand cupping her sex was unwilling to give. Her need was so damn hot, and it was killing me not to succumb to her desires.

All in good time, angel. All in good time.

“Your memory serves you right,” I said, pushing her leg down and stepping away from her. She let out an audible gasp and I chuckled. “And what clothes were you wearing when we had dinner?”

Her brows pushed together as she pulled from her memories.

“Um, I think I was wearing a red skirt—” She stopped short and looked down. When she looked back up at me, I saw the realization in her eyes. “I was wearing the same clothes you asked me to put on tonight.”

“Right again,” I confirmed with a wide grin. “Now, finish getting dressed. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”

“What? You can’t just get me all revved up like that and—”

“I can and I will. Now, be a good girl and do as you’re told.”

Not giving her a chance to respond, I left her to go into my closet and pick out what I would wear for the evening. If my memory was correct, I’d been wearing a poplin button-down and a pair of khakis that night at Matteo’s restaurant.

After I changed clothes, I exited the closet to find Krystina standing fully clothed in front of the full-length mirror in our bedroom. She was smoothing her hands over her hips and pulling at the bottom hem.

“I’m reminded of why I never wear this skirt. I always thought it was too short,” she said, yanking on the hem as if that would somehow make it longer.

“I know. That’s why I wanted you to wear it,” I said with a wink. “Are you ready to go downstairs?”

“Ready if you are.”

Moving to her side, I extended my elbow for her to slip her arm through.

“Mrs. Stone, our date night awaits.”

9

Krystina

Alexander and I walked down the grand staircase arm-in-arm. I was surprised to see Hale standing at the bottom of the steps. He looked distinguished and smart, dressed in his customary gray suit, but only those who knew him well would see the man beneath the well-dressed façade. A trained eye might suspect his military background, but his acute awareness and ruthlessness allowed him to hide it well. Besides his coming and going between the guest house and Helena’s suite of rooms, Hale rarely came into the main house, but it was always a comfort to know he was nearby.

“Hale,” Alexander said with a curt nod. “As we discussed, please escort Krystina to dinner.”

“Yes, sir,” Hale replied.

I eyed the two men in confusion. They shared a knowing look, and a ghost of a smile played on Alexander’s lips.

“What are you two playing at?” I asked.

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