Now this is what I call a kiss.
I unintelligibly mutter his name against his lips in a moan.
If I ever had any doubt that Jesse was even remotely interested in me, I certainly don’t now. Which is why I’m so utterly surprised when he abruptly pulls away, a look of intensity on his face as he stares down at me.
“Jesse,” I gasp again, this time in frustration as I finally come up for air.
A hard look comes to his face, and I wonder if I’ve offended him. “My real name is Giuseppe. Giuseppe Castiglione.”
I stare at him in wonder, letting that name dance around in my head. What a fantastically original name. And he chooses to be called something as banal as Jesse instead?
“That’s lovely. Why on earth would you go by Jesse when you could go by Giuseppe. It’s so unique and—”
The rest is cut off as he presses his lips against mine again, somehow even more urgently than before.
It only heightens my own desire.
Frankly, Jesse—Giuseppe is more man than I’ve had in a long time.
Enough to have me not just getting over Francis, but completely forgetting he was ever a part of my life.
Jesse pulls back again and falls back onto the couch with a sigh.
Good grief!
The man could make a faucet lose its mind for how hot and cold he runs.
“What is it?” I ask.
He turns to face me, his expression filled with consternation.
“I should probably confess that, yes, I did come here tonight to invite you to an event that my firm hosts every year. A gala.”
“Really?” I say perking up at the sound of that.
His brow just furrows for some reason. “In order to take you up on your offer of making Emily jealous.”
“Oh,” I say, my spirit deflating just a bit.
“Oh,” he echoes, surprisingly sounding more upset than I do.
“I’m happy to go, Giuseppe,” I say, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I love galas,” I add, a cherry note in my voice. “If it helps you win her back.”
He breathes out a sarcastic laugh.
What in the world is going on in that head of yours?
For once his stoicism isn’t endearing, it’s frustrating.
“Are you feeling guilty about the kiss?” I ask, my breath catching.
“What?” he asks, turning to me in surprise. “No, I mean, yes…in a way. I just don’t want to take advantage of you. Not while you’re in this state.”
I laugh, which causes that brow of his to lower even more.
“Who says you’re the one taking advantage of me?”
His expression holds a moment before easing into something approaching amusement.
I smile and reach out to grab his glass of moonshine. “Here, finish drinking up.”
“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. I might go further than a kiss next time.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time, Giuseppe.”
He laughs but accepts the glass.
“Don’t worry, I promise to behave,” I say, offering him a wink as I pick up my own glass. “You’re a gentleman. That’s sweet.”
He opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. Instead he takes a sip.
I smile behind my glass as I also sip. I know damn well the thoughts going through his head are anything but gentlemanly. Not after the way he felt against my body just a moment ago.
My flesh is still trembling in remembrance.
“Since you were so honest with me, I’ll be honest with you. Honey Dewberry isn’t my real name.”
Giuseppe coughs out a laugh. “Pardon my French, but…no shit.”
I find that hilarious and laugh. “I see that mouth of yours isn’t just good for kissing.”
He considers me with a genuine smile. “If you’d seen me where I grew up, you’d find out just how filthy this mouth can get.”
That one sends a perfect tsunami of pleasure through me, though I’m sure that’s not at all what he intended.
The hint of an accent my ear caught only makes it more powerful.
I reach out for the flask and wiggle it in my hand. “I think we might as well finish this off. Uncle Dickey has plenty more where this came from.”
“Uncle Dickey?”
“Yes, yes, I know. Uncle. A male body part. The south. The incest jokes write themselves.”
Giuseppe laughs. “I wasn’t going there with that. But I feel you. New Jersey gets its own share of shit when it comes to being the butt of jokes.”
“So that’s the accent,” I remark, reaching for his glass. I pour half of what’s left in his and the rest into mine.
“You caught it?” he asks, his brow wrinkling.
“I caught it. Like me, you’re good at hiding it. Unlike me, you never bring it out to play when needed I suspect.”
“No,” he says, swirling the drink around in his hands as he stares ahead. “No, I don’t.”
“Well then,” I say, reaching out to take hold of his chin and turn it so he’s facing me. “Let’s play.”
Chapter Seventeen Giuseppe
“Come on,” Honey urges. “Talk to me, Giuseppe. It’s obvious you want to drop the Clark Kent act. Show me your Superman.”
Maybe it’s the moonshine muddling my thoughts but I’m somehow confused by the analogy, even as it makes perfect sense.
I hesitate before continuing. “Do you ever feel like the thing you thought you wanted most in life isn’t all it’s cut out to be?”
“Oh most definitely,” she says with a small chuckle as she takes a sip from her glass. She tilts her head to the side in thought before continuing. “Sometimes you have to lose it to realize that though.”
“Ah yes, Francis,” I say, feeling my hand squeeze the glass a little tighter.
“Ah yes, Francis,” she echoes. “And then, of course, there’s your Emily.
“My Emily,” I repeat in a low voice. “Emily Becksworth. Though she’s not mine. Honestly, I don’t think it’s even her that I want so much as—” I stop, realizing how callous I’m being, talking about another woman right after kissing Honey like that.
I turn to find her meeting me with a wry smile. “Go on, you
