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My eyes slide over his body. I can’t blame Helena. I mean, she’s a woman and Carm is… well… Carm. He’s like the quarterback of the high school football team, all grown-up and successful.
We ride in silence while his fingers fly over the screen of his phone.
“I have to go to dinner with my cousin on Friday night.” He groans, hammering out another text message. “This is the first time he’s been in town since he got engaged. The wedding isn’t too far off and I’m hoping his bachelor party will be in Vegas.”
“Surprise, surprise.” I cross my legs.
Carm’s eyes leave his screen for a second, eyeing my movements.
“Vegas. Every bride’s nightmare.”
He pockets his cell phone. “So you’d have a problem with your husband-to-be celebrating his last nights of freedom in Vegas?”
The cab is now stopped in traffic. Great. Extra minutes with Carm.
I shift to face him. “If my soon-to-be-husband thinks he needs to refer to the days before he marries me as freedom, then I’d prefer he doesn’t show up at the altar.”
He runs his hand over his scruff while he watches me. It only adds to his sex appeal. My chest heats and his eyes deepen. He’s gauging my reaction and I can’t help but like what’s reflected back at me.
Want.
He clears his throat. “What I meant is that you’re a self-confident woman, right?”
“It has nothing to do with the woman. It’s the man’s problem.”
“How so?” He extends his arm along the back of the seat, and the energy from his fingertips so close to my neck makes it hard to concentrate.
“You have to be willing to bring to the table the same thing you expect. Which means, I doubt any guy is okay with his bride spending her ‘last days of freedom,’ as you call it, being shitfaced drunk, dancing with different guys, watching men stripping, and making out with strangers. Because I understand how guys like you think, and kissing is cheating.” My eyes widen as I realize how much I just unloaded on him.
“Whoa. Were you cheated on?”
“No.” I scowl.
“Are you sure? You seem really sensitive about the whole topic.”
I slide across the bench seat of the taxi and twirl my finger up in his tie. His eyes shoot to the rearview mirror and back to me.
“Tell me, Carmelo, why is it so much easier for a woman to seduce a man?” My other hand lands on his hard thigh. That was a big mistake, but I need to prove how easy it is to get a man to flip.
“Because women are the devil,” he says, his hand falling from the top of the bench seat to my waist, locking me in place. “But don’t make me prove you wrong,” he whispers, leaning closer. “It’d be easy for me to have you melting against this vinyl right now.”
Our faces draw together until his lips hover over mine. I feel his breath on my face and a tingle shoots up my spine.
“Just imagine it. My lips on yours. My tongue searching for entrance. The two of us lost in lust in this cab, trying to hide what we’re doing,” he whispers. His gaze dips and his other hand joins the torment, sliding up my bare thigh. “I’d inch closer and closer, and you’d nudge your legs open for me. Tell me, Bella, how wet are you right now?”
I tug at his tie. One kiss—one long, sultry kiss—wouldn’t do any harm, right?
A lone finger glides up under the hem of my skirt. I glance down and see the prominent bulge in his slacks.
“You tell me first, Carm, how hard are you?”
“Like granite. I’m not embarrassed to admit I want you.”
All the girly parts inside me puddle. Carmelo Mancini wants me.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll have you, because contrary to what you think, I have self-control.” He squeezes my thigh and smirks.
I release his tie, slide out of his grip, and shift over to the other side of the cab.
The player just got played. Why did I ever think I’d beat him in a game of temptation?
