Hearts in Overtime: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (24 page)

“Wow…”

I turned to Alessandro. He gave me a kind smile, but he didn’t say anything.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered, turning back to the painting.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in a voice nearly as quiet as mine.

I turned back to him, searching his eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “You are beautiful.”

I parted my lips, wanting to say something. Surely he must be mistaken. How could it be possible for a man so drop dead gorgeous to think that I was beautiful?

But Alessandro apparently misinterpreted my parted lips, because he slowly leaned forward to give me a kiss so soft, so sweet and so lovely that my heart practically melted. His tongue was gentle yet firm, and it swirled around in my mouth with such grace, I felt like I must be dreaming.

“Oh, Alessandro,” I said as we slowly pulled apart.

He gently brushed a lock of hair from my face. “You, Lila French, are truly exquisite.”

I bit my lip, and couldn’t help but frown. Granted, I wasn’t a dog or anything. I’d been known to turn a few heads in my day (even
with
the extra bulk) but it seemed somehow ridiculous that a man as hot as Alessandro Lamberti could be as smitten with me as he claimed to be.

“How can you possibly think that?” I asked him. “You—you’re like male model material and me? Well, I’m a big girl. Um…as you can see.”

He stroked my cheeks and slowly moved his hands to my shoulders, down my arms, and then to my waist. It was damn near impossible not to suck my gut in (which would just be too sad) but I managed it.

“I love your body,” he said, running his hands all over my waist and my back. “You’re so soft. You are how a woman should feel.”

I thought I had died and gone to Heaven. His hands felt so good on my body! I close my eyes and leaned in for another kiss.

It was deeper this time, more intense. I started exploring Alessandro’s body with my hands—his strong arms, his muscular back, his powerful shoulders. I was getting so into the zone that I didn’t even worry about the fact that I wasn’t actually wearing any clothes until one particularly passionate grope of Alessandro’s loosened the folds and suddenly the yards of black silk were pooled around my ankles.

I yelped and covered my eyes, giggling like a schoolgirl.

Alessandro laughed, and then I heard the swish of clothing. I opened my eyes to see him pulling off his smock, followed by his shirt, and finally, his jeans.

“I figured it was only fair.” He grinned and pecked me on the lips.

Wow. Alessandro’s body was beyond compare. It was absolutely perfect, down to the six-pack abs. Again, I couldn’t compute how he could possibly be into me, but that thought was promptly forgotten when he reached for me, and started stroking the side of my tits.

“Should we get comfortable on the chaise lounge?” he asked.

I hesitated. Not that I was afraid of collapsing the legs under our combined weights or anything like that, but I didn’t think it would be all that comfortable for the two of us to fool around on it. Who knew where the nearest bedroom was? They were probably all on the second floor, and I didn’t love the idea of getting dressed again to head up there (or by getting caught in my undies by Rachel or anyone else working for Alessandro.) I turned to look through the wall of windows at the expansive green lawn just outside Alessandro’s studio.

“Would there be anyone wandering around out there at this hour of the day?” I asked.

A smile slowly spread across his face. “Nope,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me outside.

I hurried to keep up with him, both of us laughing like a couple of teenagers who were up to no good. The sun was just starting to set, casting a gold, sensuous glow across the grass. Part of me couldn’t believe that I was about to let a sex god see me naked in broad daylight. But another, more daring part of me, couldn’t wait to see
him
naked and didn’t care about much else.

As it turned out, the daring girl inside me didn’t have to wait long. Alessandro gently guided me down the manicured lawn, and after taking a moment to gaze fondly down at me, he slid right out of his boxer briefs and tossed them aside.

His cock stood powerful, erect, and I stared at it, mesmerized. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. It was huge—both in length and in thickness—and I could literally see it pulsating. I gazed at Alessandro’s glorious cock in awe as he reached down to unsnap my bra and toss it aside.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured as he knelt down kiss my nipple.

He was so tender. Because I’m extremely well endowed, I’ve found that most guys just want to start sucking away when they get my bra off (can we say mommy issues?) but Alessandro treated my breasts like they were precious gems. Softly caressing the fleshy bits, he nibbled and licked and teased my nipples. I arched my back and fell back on the grass as pleasure shuddered all through my body and my pussy got wetter and wetter.

Slowly he drew away from my tits and gazed down at me with the sweetest, most loving smile. He reached down, hooked his thumbs under the elastic of my panties, and I shifted my weight so he could slide them off.

“So sexy…” he murmured, reaching down to stroke my pussy lips.

I closed my eyes and moaned. His tender touch was driving me quickly to the pinnacle of arousal. I was
this
close to an orgasm, and he hadn’t even gone near my clit. He was taking his time playing with my slippery pink folds.
That
was how skilled Alessandro was, or how desperately I wanted him, or how much chemistry the two of us had together. Maybe it was all of those things, or maybe a combination of some or parts of these things, or maybe it was something else entirely. I had no idea. All I knew is that I needed him. I needed him bad.

“Alessandro,” I gasped. “I need you to be inside me.”

“I know, Lila,” he whispered, leaning down to give me a sweet gentle kiss.

I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him close, relishing the sensation of his rock hard chest against my soft, squishy one. His kiss deepened, became hotter, harder. His tongue grew braver, more brazen, as it explored the depths of my mouth. My heart pounded furiously and I thought I was about to explode and then…

I felt the head of his cock nudging the lips of my pussy. Thank heavens. I widened my legs and shifted my hips to help guide him into me, and then a huge sense of relief washed over me as I felt him slide in, my inner walls happily expanding to make way for his girth.

“You feel so good, Lila. You’re so beautiful, so sexy,” he whispered as he began to pump with increasing speed.

“Oh, Alessandro,” was all I could manage.

His hard, smooth chest was glistening. I reached up to stroke his pec, in awe of how beautiful he was, and how loving. He leaned down to kiss me, a long, deep kiss that gave me the wonderful sensation of being filled up by him in more ways than one. But then he pulled back.

He pumped harder, faster. I felt my arousal building and building and building and then…

“Oh god. Oh my god. Oh god, Alessandro!” I shrieked as the orgasm rocketed through my entire body.

I had never
ever
had an orgasm before that didn’t involve my clitoris, and I couldn’t believe it was actually happening. I clapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my screams, because they needed to be muffled, believe me.

Moments later, I felt Alessandro come, his ejaculation shooting through my body. It was a wonderfully warm sensation and I felt so fulfilled. Literally.

Poor Alessandro looked exhausted after he was spent. With a dreamy smile on his face, he collapsed with his head resting on the pillows of my tits, and I reached down to stroke his hair. Mm. I remember thinking: I could get used to this.

Well, as it turned out, I did. I was sure it’d be a one-time fling. I was enough of a realist that I didn’t bother to entertain any fantasies about Alessandro falling in love with me after I left the next day (because yes, of course I spent the night). But as it happened he
did
fall in love with me, and after a couple of weeks, I started to accept that as the truth. A year later, we were married on the back lawn behind the Hamptons house, scene of our very first lovemaking experience. And I believe that my grandmother was looking down on us from Heaven when I wore her veil for my march down the grassy aisle into the arms of my love.

You have got to be joking.

I suppressed the desire to crumple onto the floor of questionable cleanliness and curl up into the fetal position. Instead, I took a deep breath of muggy bathroom air and gave it my best shot. I yanked the metal handle and pulled with all my might, but that stubborn door would not budge.

After a few failed attempts to liberate myself, I leaned back against the tiled wall and closed my eyes. Tears prickled beneath my lids, but instead of bursting out in sobs, I burst into laughter.

It had been the longest day of my life. Ever. One hour from Des Moines to Chicago. Eight hours from Chicago to London. Four hours from London to Kos. And then the bus to the ferry. And then the ferry to the island. Not to mention the layovers, the delays, the long lines in UK Customs, Greek Customs and the fact that
everything
in Greece seemed to run on GMT (Greek Maybe Time). When my travel agent first told me about GMT, I had laughed. I found the concept endearing. But now…not so much.

Think, Jessa, think.

After one last aggressive tug, I accepted the fact that I’d be stuck in there until someone freed me from the other side. Unfortunately the harbor house had been completely empty when I got off the boat and dragged my luggage through the crumbling wooden building into the bathroom. But someone else would surely show up eventually. Right?

Right. I balled my fingers into a fist and rapped loudly on the door. I paused, listened for any sounds and then knocked again.

“Help,” I murmured, and to my own ears, my plea sounded like the soft mew of a kitten trapped in a laundry chute.

It was an omen. It had to be. I’d known I was jumping the gun by booking the trip to Greece before hitting my target.

“Fifty pounds, babe. You’ve lost fifty pounds,” my friend, Cynthia, had pointed out last month. “It’s a milestone, and if you don’t do something truly amazing to celebrate your accomplishment, I’m going to have to hurt you.”

Being a superstitious sort of gal, I shot down Cyn’s suggestion to splurge on a spa weekend or those fabulously funky Marc Jacobs ballet flats I’d been eyeing for forever. After all, I still had twenty-eight more pounds to lose and I didn’t want to jinx myself by celebrating prematurely.

But Cynthia wouldn’t let it go. She kept pitching suggestions, and I kept batting them out of the park, that is until Cyn grabbed my laptop and started Googling “island vacations.” Seduced by the gorgeous panoramic pics that came up on the screen, my resolve quickly crumbled.

And so there I was. Three maxed-out credit cards later, I was trapped in a hot, muggy bathroom halfway around the world with no hope for escape.

Minutes passed and desperation mounted as I intermittently rapped on that stubborn door. And just as I was wondering if the soft canvas of my large suitcase would make an adequate bed if I turned it on its back and curled up on it just so, I heard a voice on the other side of the door.

“Eísai kalá?”
the deep, dulcet voice questioned, and it was the most melodious, most beautiful sound I had ever heard. Gratitude washed over me, and the anticipation of impending freedom shot straight through my veins. I even jumped up and down a little bit. And why wouldn’t I? Nobody was there to witness it.

“Hello!” I said in Greek. I’d learned a few basic phrases before I arrived, but sadly, “help, I’m trapped in the bathroom” was not one of them. I bit down on my bottom lip.

Maybe the guy spoke English. It was worth a shot anyway.

“Um…I need help,” I said. “I’m trapped.”

“You poor thing,” he replied in perfect English, and I practically swooned.

He had
such
a sexy voice, as hypnotic as the low roar of a distant locomotive. I instinctively smoothed out my hair and moistened my lips before I came to my senses. The man behind the door was most likely a scrawny, fifty-something fisherman.

I reminded myself that extreme stress combined with sleep deprivation could make the most sensible girl in the world go loopy, and I forcefully navigated my mind away from the fanciful notions about the man with the gorgeously throaty voice that a part of me was just dying to indulge in.

“Is the lock stuck?” the guy asked.

“Um, no. It’s just the door.” I took a deep breath and focused. “I’ve been trying to pull, but I think it needs a good shove from the outside. Or a good kick. Could you?” My voice trailed off.

“Yes, of course. Stand back.”

Suddenly feeling as light as a hummingbird, I flitted over to the wall, away from the door. Freedom at last! As soon as I was released from captivity, I’d see with my own eyes that the guy with the super sexy voice was in fact a fatherly type with weathered skin and maybe even a missing tooth or two.

“I’m standing back,” I said. “Go for it.”

“Okay.”

A moment later, there was an almighty thud and then a crash as the door flew open and hit the tiled wall. In that brief moment before it swung back, I caught a glimpse of my savior. He stood balanced on one leg in that post-kick pose. Long, lean and graceful, he reminded me of a martial arts master—one who did a lot of yoga too. Uh oh. He was definitely not the toothless old man I’d envisioned.

He gently pushed the door back open and peered in. Our gazes met, and I regarded him with wonder. It was like he was a different person to the one she’d just spotted for a split second. Gone was the fierce fighter and in his place was a smiling boy-next-door type with close-cropped black hair, a playful look in his ink black eyes and a smiling mouth full of gleaming white teeth. Not a single one was missing.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Blame it on sleep deprivation and travel exhaustion, but I just couldn’t help myself. “My hero,” I breathed.

Hella Hotness only chuckled, but I was well and truly mortified. Taking care to avoid eye contact, I slung my carry-on over my shoulder and picked up my laptop case.

“Gosh, thank you so much for getting me out of here,” I said to the tiled floor. “I was beginning to wonder if I’d be stuck in here all night! I’m no Einstein—obviously—and I really appreciate your help.”

I could feel the blood furiously rushing to the surface of my skin, and I would have bet the farm on the fact that my face was beet red. In an effort to keep my hands occupied, I patted the pockets of my bag and ran my fingers along the shoulder strap.

I knew I was being rude by avoiding eye contact though, and I knew what I had to do. Gathering a lung full of warm air, I lifted my chin to meet his gaze.

“Anyway, thanks a bunch!” I said.

“Of course.” His head was tilted just a tad, amusement dancing in those ebony eyes of his, and he reached over to squeeze me gently on the shoulder. “I was happy to help.”

Oh boy. The warmth of his hand seeped through my cotton eyelet top to delight my skin. In one instant, his crazy powerful touch managed to liquefy my bones and my brains. It felt like every last drop of blood in my body had flooded into my face, which was fire engine red by now, no doubt. He needed to go. Seriously, I was way too tired to disguise my attraction to the handsome hero.

“Well, thanks again!”

Come on, buddy. This is your cue to say, “You’re welcome,” and then go on your merry way.

But that’s not what happened. Instead, he released the handle of my suitcase and asked, “Are you taking the ferry back to Kos?”

“Huh?”

He frowned slightly, but the crease in his brow didn’t diminish the magnificence of that smile—the smile that was killing me. It was almost like a flirty smile, but I knew better than to entertain the notion that the amazingly gorgeous man could possibly be interested in me. He was fit; I was fat. Case closed.

“Are you getting on the next ferry?” he gently prodded.

Oh, great. He was going to think I was some kind of half-wit.

“Um, no. I just got here. I’m going up to…” I reached into my bag and pulled out my small notebook. “Kyarisso.”

“How nice.” He motioned for me to exit through the doorway.

“Listen, I’m really grateful to you for getting me out of here, but I’m all good. You don’t have to help me with my bags. You’ve done your good deed for the day, so off you go.”

Laughing weakly, I reached for the handle of my suitcase, but he didn’t release his grip. With my hand hovering just an inch or so above his, I looked up and met his gaze. Those ink black eyes of his caught the reflection of the weak bulb above his head and made them sparkle. Literally.

“Don’t be so ridiculous.”

I drew in a deep breath. Could he somehow tell what I was thinking? Did he know I had the hots for him? Thankfully, the answer to that question was no.

He nodded at the doorway. “After you.”

I relented. Of course I did. I was never one to cause a scene, and I really had no idea why I was behaving so stupidly. It wasn’t as if I had never seen a super handsome guy before in my life. I’d seen loads. Okay, a few. Okay, maybe one or two that could compare to Hella Hotness here, but I’d never before had such a hard time keeping my cool.

Well… I had been awake for thirty-eight hours straight, after all.

I led the way through the deserted harbor house to the sun-bleached concrete out front, and in methodical silence, we stacked my luggage next to an ancient wooden bench with peeling white paint.

“Do you need a taxi?” he asked.

“Yeah, but I’m cool. I’ve got a number to call. I’ll be fine. Thanks again!”

I wasn’t sure why, but I really wanted him to go away. Like now.

“If you’re sure you’re all right.” He flashed me a wide smile. “Goodbye then. Enjoy your holiday.”

“Thank you. And thanks again for everything,” I said.

We exchanged a smile and a wave, and then he turned to leave. I watched him walk down the sloping cement to the narrow road that ran along the shoreline. He came to a halt when he reached a sleek, black motorbike. After unhooking the helmet and affixing it to his head, he mounted the motorbike and sped away.

I couldn’t help but release a wistful sigh as I watched him go. What a guy. Too bad I’d never see him again.

* * * *

Throwing my head back, I took in a deep lungful of salty sea air. And my sun hat promptly fell to the sand. Oops. Grateful no one seemed to have witnessed that smooth move, I leaned over to scoop up my hat, replaced it on my head and relaxed in my sun lounger.

What a day. I’d slept the sleep of the dead in my rented cottage. Seriously. It was wonderful. For twelve glorious hours I was unconscious and it’d been
ages
since I’d managed more than seven hours of sleep in one night. I’d just been so busy with…well, with life. Thank goodness I’d allowed Cynthia to twist my arm about this trip. I so needed a vacation.

And so far it was going great. Well…apart from having locked myself in the harbor house bathroom, that is. No, really, I was having a fabulous time. After breakfast, I decided to go out for a wander, and I’d been wandering ever since.

As small as the island was, there were all sorts of hidden surprises to be uncovered. Like the crumbling old statue of a woman on the edge o a cliff, which looked to be about a zillion years old. Or the swarm of butterflies she found flitting around the patch of pretty purple flowers along the dirt path. Or the two towering columns, now standing alone in the rocky clearance she discovered hiding behind a thicket of trees. I busted out with my iPhone and learned that the columns dated from 200 BC, and that they’d once flanked the entrance of a temple.

It was all pretty spectacular for a girl who’d never been out of the continental US before and whose hometown was barely over two hundred years old.

After a delicious lunch of sea bass with loads of fresh veggies, I hit the beach. Yep, that’s right. The beach.

Not since the age of eleven had I dared to bare my body in public. And I’m not talking nudity here, nor even scantily clad sauciness—I’d always opted for conservative swimsuits—but my poolside/beachside/lakeside look inevitably included the prerequisite below-the-knee shorts and baggy tee shirt.

So it was a momentous occasion when I untied the sari knotted around my waist and stuffed it into my beach bag. No one screamed out in horror, and none of the children burst into tears. Still, I hurried to plant myself on the sun lounger, arranging my legs in the most flattering pose possible and steeled myself for pitying looks from fellow beachgoers. None ever came.

Paradise. That’s what the sparsely populated beach felt like on that warm September day. The sea and the sky were equally magnificent shades of azure and peacock blue. The cry of the gulls circling overhead together with the sound of crashing waves had a lulling effect on me as I soaked up the sunrays while stringing seed beads and Swarovski crystals onto beading wire.

Setting down the necklace I was working on for a moment, I stretched my arms overhead, arched my back and pointed my toes. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone approaching.

Eek! It was Hella Hotness. Quickly digging into my beach bag, I pulled out a garish pink towel and threw it over my belly, hips and thighs. The last thing I wanted to do was to give him
that
view.