The Italian's Bedroom Deal Read Online Free PDF Page A

knowing that many of his acquaintances would not consider him nice in any way. In fact, the most polite term anyone had used to describe him was “merciless” when it came to business. Women might be a little kinder, but even the ladies wouldn’t apply that adjective to his character. He didn’t contradict her though. He found that he liked the idea that she thought he was nice. Although he grimaced at the tame description. There were many things he wanted her to feel about him but nice was adequate for now. Later, when they were married, he’d work on other descriptions, he promised himself.
     
    His mouth formed a half smile, showing his cynicism better than words could do. “I think you’re a very sweet person.”
     
    Clarissa’s head fell back and she sighed heavily. “I know.”
     
    Max chuckled. “Is that a bad thing?” he questioned, his eyes glancing at her long, slender neck. He imagined bending down and kissing her, just at the base where her pulse beat delicately against her satin skin. Max’s body, already hard and primed, didn’t like the temptation so he forced his eyes to move higher. That didn’t help much, since his eyes were resting on her sweet, kissable mouth.
     
    She didn’t answer for a moment but finally said, “I don’t want to be sweet or nice or any of those adjectives. I want to be….”
     
    “What?” he prompted when she didn’t continue.
     
    “Sexy,” she whispered. “And possibly sophisticated, glamorous, beautiful.” She grimaced. “All those lovely adjectives that indicate a man is interested.” Clarissa was grateful for the darkness which hid the blush she knew would be coloring her cheeks. Blushing definitely wasn’t sophisticated and glamorous and she couldn’t remember anyone saying that a red face was beautiful.
     
    After a long, stunned silence, Max couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up inside his chest. “I think those terms would be very applicable to you.”
     
    Clarissa rolled her eyes. “There you go again, being nice.”
     
    Max shook his head. “You don’t look in the mirror very often, do you?”
     
    “I try to avoid it,” she replied, her eyes focusing on her nails. She didn’t want to look at his face, fear of seeing the pity she knew would be present.
     
    Max took her hand in his, forcing her eyes to look back up at him. He waited until her soft, brown eyes were looking into his own before he said, “Then perhaps you should start. You’re very pretty, Clarissa. Just because a man doesn’t maul you, doesn’t mean he’s not interested.”
     
    She prayed that he couldn’t feel the tremors in the hand he held but she was too shy to hold his gaze during such a frank discussion. “I won’t argue the point since I don’t have enough experience to do so.”
     
    He was quiet for a long moment as he studied her downcast features in the dim light coming from the party’s floodlights as well as the security lights hidden in the trees behind the bench. “Tell me what’s bothering you,” he asked softly.
     
    Clarissa didn’t know if it was the darkness or the noise from the party but there was a feeling of intimacy between the two of them that made her feel as if she could confide in him. Taking a deep breath, she started off by saying, “I just want to know what its like to feel passion,” she said as if she’d revealed a horrible secret. “Is that so awful?” she asked. “I mean, I’m twenty-five years old and haven’t felt the slightest twinge of interest in a man.”
     
    Max hid his surprise exceedingly well but he couldn’t deny the satisfaction that settled deep in his chest. His next words pushed him into dangerous territory but he couldn’t stop them from coming. “And you’d like to feel passion?”
     
    “Of course. Who wouldn’t?”
     
    “Why do you think you’ve never felt anything for any of the men you’ve dated?”
     
    She thought about that for only a moment before grinning. “Perhaps