Italian Stallions Read Online Free PDF Page B

father’s gambling hadn’t blindsided her. Or the fact that he owed a bundle to the dirty don. But what rattled her most was the man’s sexual persistence. Her sudden sex-kitten act had been played out too well. Tucci’s ardent response at the door terrified her. His proposition disgusted her.
    She would decide on who got her cherry—not some dirty don!
    Gianna rolled eyes. Who was she kidding? She was doomed to live the life of a spinster. She’d look like Lily Tomlin, with the hair net, long dress coat, and super thick brown knee-highs.
    “What’ll it be, toots?” the bartender asked. Gianna looked up, so lost in her thoughts she didn’t remember where she was. She looked around the room and swallowed hard. Another one of those places. The topless cocktail waitresses pranced in and out of the lounge into what was the stage area, as if showing their breasts was as common as wearing a hat. Her gaze continued around the dark leopard-spotted room and abruptly stopped when they clashed with dark eyes at the other end of the bar. A slow warmth filled her, and her belly did a slow roll. The guy staring back at her with the intensity of tiger on a deer caused her mouth to go dry. He was big, dark, and intense. He raised his glass in a subtle salute, then drained it.
    “Toots?” the bartender prodded.
    Gianna dragged her eyes from the man at the end of the bar and said, “A glass of Chianti, please.”
    “Chianti? This ain’t Scoma’s.”
    “Ummm.” Gianna looked down the bar to the dark-haired man and nodded. “I’d like one of those.”
    “You want him on the rocks?”
    Gianna smiled, suddenly feeling very bold. “No, I’d prefer him straight up.”
    As the bartender moved down to the end of the bar, Gianna suddenly felt foolish. A man like that would never be interested in a girl like her. Suddenly she found her lap more interesting than her surroundings.
    “I prefer my drinks straight up as well.”
    Warm breath assaulted the back of her neck, and Gianna could swear every hair on her body raised in awareness. Long thick arms, one on each side of her, circled her.
    Swallowing hard and feeling extremely daring, Gianna turned on the barstool and came face-to-face with the man from the end of the bar. His dark intensity startled her; his toxic sensuality enveloped her, and for the first time in her life, she squirmed in her seat over a man. He smiled and she nearly swooned. He slipped a big arm around her waist and pulled her against his chest. Her nipples puckered, her breasts thickened, and she had the unadulterated urge to rub against him.
    “Hello, gorgeous,” he softly said. His dark chocolate-colored eyes scanned her face. From her eyebrows to her eyes to her nose and then her lips. Slowly he lifted his eyes back to hers. “You have amazing lips.” Gianna licked said lips. The man groaned. “Baby, you have no idea how sexy that looked.”
    Every cell in her body warmed. She closed her eyes and inhaled. He smelled good. Clean. Like soap and lemons and spice.
    “You smell really good,” she whispered, opening her eyes to his hot gaze. Not sure what to say or do next, she knew what she wanted to do, and the thought shocked her. Just ten minutes ago, Gianna had been sickened by Tucci’s advances, and here she was in a two-bit strip joint with a stranger who had her so hot and bothered that if he let go of her, she’d puddle onto the floor.
    “Let’s get a booth over here,” he cajoled. Taking her hand into his big warm one, he pulled her along to the booth farthest from everyone and slid her along the smooth vinyl. His body slipped in beside her.
    He leaned into her and softly asked, “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”
    “What’s a bad boy like you doing in a place like this?” He grinned like a wolf, and Gianna suddenly had an urge to be bitten. Hard.
    Nervousness skittered through Gianna’s body, warming her in a tingly way that was anything but unpleasant. The