Page 9 of Good Girl Gone Bad

Of course, he would have enjoyed it much more if he hadn’t been late. His plan to pick her up, to make their deal a bit more personal, went down the drain when one of his properties had an accidental fire. No one had been hurt, but he had to make a statement, contact the PR team, and quickly visit the location to make sure everyone was safe. His brother was still in Los Angeles, and he decided to wait to tell him they weren’t going to build the miraculous garage after all. Nico wouldn’t be happy, but he’d deal.

When he arrived at the booth, a waiter was taking Lily’s drink order. She smiled at the young man, and something inside him throbbed, like he could punch the guy for being the receiver of her radiant beam. One second in her company and he already wasn’t thinking straight. That’s why he needed to screw her until the novelty wore off.

“Hi,” she said.

He noticed the hues of gold in her green irises, the freckles peppering her nose and cheeks. Dio, she looked even more delectable than earlier. Her blond hair was up, with a few strands framing her face. A cherry-red lipstick coated her kissable mouth, and a black dress clung to her curves. The U-neck cut displayed a generous amount of the valley between her breasts, her tits squeezed into the fabric.

A surge of arousal bolted through him. Without yanking his gaze from her, he slid next to her, grabbed the napkin, and placed it on his lap. “Hey.”

“And for you, Mr. Giordano?” the waiter asked him.

“Scotch. On the rocks,” he said, grateful he wasn’t driving tonight. He’d entertained taking his own sports car and not using the limo service, but ended up deciding his hands should be on her at all times—certainly not on a steering wheel.

The waiter nodded and left.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to take care of something.”

She waved him off. “It’s okay. Like what you see?” she asked him.

Shit. He’d been gawking at her, his mouth watering at her beauty like he was a horny teenager who never took girls out. Certainly not like the successful businessman who had no problem in finding a hot date. “You’re wearing your hair up again. I was just thinking that’s intriguing, given your occupation.”

“Oh.” She touched her hair, then her hand slid down her neck. “It’s habit. I’m always doing stuff.”

He scooted even closer to her. “May I?” he asked, resolute in letting her know that though he’d bought her body for a month, her wishes mattered. In fact, he craved to fulfill each one of them.

“Y-yes.”

He touched behind her head, where a fancy pin held her hair together, then released it. Waves of sultry, silky hair fell down her shoulders like she’d stepped out of a shampoo commercial. His body rumbled, images of him taking her from behind and pulling her hair flooded his dirty mind. His cock strained against his slacks, and he mimicked her earlier move and let his hand glide down her neck. He felt her shiver at the contact and sighed.

“Sei bellissima,” he said.

Her breasts rose and fell, her organic response to him cementing his decision. He wasn’t the only one who needed this deal—she needed it just as much. If the contract gave him the go-ahead to indulge in her body without false promises, it probably also made her feel more comfortable with her sexuality, being a pastor’s daughter and all. She knew—he hoped she did—he wouldn’t judge her.

With that in mind, he drew an invisible, circular pattern at the base of her throat, feeling the pulse. She didn’t tear her eyes from him, and her luscious lips parted, asking, no, begging to be kissed.

“Do you like sushi?” he whispered.

She leaned into his touch. “I can’t stand it.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Good. Let’s get out of here.”

…

Lily chewed on her lower lip. From the moment he’d given his hand to her until now, guiding her through the restaurant, her flesh had become überaware of Marco. He must have given someone a sign, as the limo stopped at the curb in front of them the second they hit the sidewalk. A movie scene wouldn’t have had better timing.

When they entered the limo, the same luxury car that had picked her up at home and driven her here, Marco clicked the button to lift the partition.

“Sorry, sir, I meant to tell you there’s something wrong with the button. I’ll take it to the dealership tomorrow,” the driver said, starting the engine.

Marco cursed in Italian under his breath and shot her a look filled with frustration. She chuckled, for she experienced that same crazy urge to get him naked and on top of her—or under her, or sideways.

She rested her hand on his knee, tapping it a couple of times in a silent message of comfort. He placed his hand over hers, and his warmth enveloped her skin. “Does the partition often break?” she murmured.

He smiled. “Never.”

“Maybe it’s a sign,” she said playfully. “To take things slow.”

Marco circled his index finger on her hand, the gentle and unassuming touch hardening her nipples. An unbearable ardor overpowered her, and she didn’t need to touch her cheeks to feel their heat. She couldn’t wait to have his long olive finger touching her intimately. A splash of apprehension blended with excitement. The driver was taking them to Marco’s place.

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