Page 124 of Effortless

“Sure, if I have time. Seems someone is going to spend his night showing off, and that leaves me to be the boss of the place.”

“Knock it down to him being the younger one, man.”

Joe nodded. “Right, that’s what it is.”

Tommaso’s hand at Camilla’s lower back guided her through the people, and closer to the bar. His gray-blue gaze drifted over her dress, and down to the black heels on her feet. “I did tell you how nice you look tonight, didn’t I?”

Camilla scoffed. “Nice?”

“For the moment, I’m keeping this PG, Camilla. Don’t push me.”

Heat danced through her insides.

“You did tell me, Tom.”

With that, she hooked a finger around the tie he wore, and pulled him in for a kiss. The black suit he had put on earlier did everything good for his body. It showed off his leanness, gave him that tall, dark, and handsome bit to accentuate.

She loved it.

“Did you have fun with my mother today?” he asked.

“I did.”

“That’s good.” He pressed a kiss to her nose. “I knew she would like you.”

Camilla smiled softly. “You could have asked me, you know, about business and how I felt. You didn’t have to spy to find out.”

Tommaso shook his head. “There is some stuff in this life you just don’t ask. You find out one way or the other. This was one of those for me.”

“Did you think I knew?”

“Entirely,” he replied. “I figured you would have stayed the hell away had you found a problem with it.”

“I see,” she teased.

Tommaso winked, and tugged on one of her loose waves of hair. Then, he gestured at the wall-length, built-in bar for the club. Behind it, bottles on shelves seemed to dance under the lights and strobes. The bass from the music pumped through the floors, and vibrated Camilla’s feet.

“You can drink, if you want,” he told her. “Joe was just being a shit.”

“You shouldn’t encourage underage—”

His hand smacked her ass hard, quieting her. Still, a hot little squeak escaped.

“So much for PG,” she told him.

Tommaso shrugged. “I went as long as I could. I make no apologies for anything that happens next.”

Camilla’s laughter melted into the sound of the music. “No drinking for me tonight, like I said. I have an essay I have to finish when I get back to your place, and then email it in to my professor. That way, I don’t have to rush home. I can stay … a few more days.”

He glanced down at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “Yeah, Tom.”

“What’s the essay?”

“Just a correlation between preemie births and lack of prenatal care for poverty stricken women.”

“Heavy topic,” he said.