Make You Mine by K.T. Quinn

If you enjoyed Make You Mine, you’re going to love this other standalone romance from K.T. Quinn: Only You. You can click here to buy it, or keep reading for a special sneak peek!

It was supposed to be a relaxing vacation to Rome.

Then the pandemic hit.

Now I’m quarantined in an empty hotel until things blow over.

But considering who’s in the room next to mine?

Things could be a lot worse.

 

Donovan Russo is the full package.

Tall, tan, and stupidly handsome.

We start by exchanging wine for homemade pasta,

But soon we’re sharing much more than food and stories.

With nobody else around, the big, luxurious hotel becomes our playground.

Getting frisky in the lobby, and then fooling around in the parlor.

Will we return home together when the quarantine is lifted?

Or will our fun pandemic fling run its course?

Molly

The Day My Heart Did A Backflip

I couldn’t get Donovan out of my head the next day. I felt like a girl who had made a new best friend on the first day of school, and couldn’t wait to see them at Recess so we could play together.

I told myself it was purely platonic. Donovan was good company. He was the only company I had in the deserted hotel, as a matter of fact. I would have been excited to hang out with him even if he was a balding, middle-aged guy with crooked teeth.

But he doesn’t look like that, I thought. He looks like he was carved out of marble.

Our care packages came around lunchtime, which gave me an excuse to text Donovan.

Molly: I’m eating the worst bologna sandwich I’ve ever had. Your pasta is so much better. When it’s not dropped off the balcony, I mean.

Donovan: It’s good even when it’s dropped, Feisty. Those cats in the plaza gobbled it up!

Donovan: What are you up to on Day Six of the lockdown?

Molly: Watching Seinfeld on the hotel channel. It’s actually funnier in Italian. I’m having a blast.

Molly: Okay, that was a lie. I’m bored out of my mind.

Molly: There’s not a lot to do around here.

Donovan: Ain’t that the truth?

I turned down the TV volume and strained my ears. I couldn’t hear him next door. In fact, I hadn’t heard him in awhile.

Molly: What are you doing right now?

Donovan: I took a taxi out to the countryside. I’m at my third vineyard of the day. They’re letting me do that thing where you smash the grapes with your bare feet.

Donovan: You know, typical pandemic-safe activities.

Molly: Oh God, don’t tease me like that. I WISH I were at a vineyard right now.

Molly: What are you really doing?

Donovan: Snooping around the hotel pool. Someone left a pair of goggles in the locker room. I’m going to go for a swim.

Molly: There was a sign on the pool door. It’s supposed to be closed.

Molly: You wouldn’t DARE ignore a closed sign, would you?

Donovan: What can I say? I like to live dangerously.

Donovan: Breaking the rules makes it more fun.

Donovan: Feel free to join me. It’s better than sitting in the room, right?

I thought about the invitation while watching Seinfeld. It was a good excuse to leave the room, and I did want to see him again. The only problem was I didn’t pack a swimsuit.

When the episode ended, I turned off the TV and took the elevator downstairs. The lobby was still completely empty, another harsh reminder that we were alone in the big hotel. Everything was silent except for a soft splashing sound coming from the pool.

I walked through the doors into the pool room. Donovan was swimming freestyle in one of the lanes, splashing with every stroke. He reached the end of the pool, did a flip-turn under the water, and began swimming back in the other direction.

His muscular body glided through the water smoothly. He made it look effortless. I watched him from the alcove by the door as he swam three laps, then four, never looking in my direction.

Finally he stopped at the end. After pausing to catch his breath, he planted his hands on the edge and climbed out of the pool. I hid back in the alcove by the door, suddenly embarrassed that I had been watching him for so long. He rounded the corner of the pool and walked away from me. I peeked my head around the corner.

Oh my God.

He was wearing boxer-briefs instead of a swimsuit, and they clung wetly to his body like a second skin. I was mesmerized by his ass as he walked down the length of the pool. Rivulets of water ran down the nooks and crannies of his muscles, making his entire body glisten.

He looks like a freaking cologne model. I half expected him to suddenly stop, face the camera, and say the name of a cologne in a sexy voice. Pandemic, by Armani.

Donovan reached the end of the pool and climbed the ladder up to the diving board. I watched him from my hidden alcove as he stopped at the top. Rolling his arms in their sockets, he took a deep breath, then strode out onto the diving board. He bounced on the end and launched into the air. Like a professional diver, he tucked his legs into his body, spinning in a full backflip, then extended his arms and legs until he was straight as a pencil. As he sliced into the deep end of the pool, a small splash fountained up from the languid water.

I was grinning from ear to ear as he returned to the surface. This time he swam over to the pool ladder that faced my direction. He grabbed the rails and pulled himself out of the water.

He stopped and turned his head. “Molly?”

Shit, shit, shit.

Embarrassed that I’d been caught, I quickly exited through the doors.

By the time I got back to my room, I had a text waiting for me.

Donovan: Caught you watching me again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were stalking me.

Molly: I don’t know what you’re talking about

Donovan: You know you could have joined me, instead of watching from afar like a creeper.

Molly: The pool was closed. There was a sign on the door, remember?

Donovan: You still walked inside.

Donovan: Since you already broke the rules, you might as well have come all the way into the pool.

Molly: What’s for dinner tonight?

Donovan: Dinner?

Donovan: I’m not making dinner

Donovan: I’m planning on drinking wine and passing out

Molly: That’s not very healthy!

Donovan: Wine comes from grapes. Grapes are fruit. Fruit is good for you.

Donovan: Trust me, I’m a chef.

Molly: Can’t argue with that logic. Count me in for a liquid-fruit dinner. Same time and place as last night?

Donovan: It’ll be our third date

Donovan: Things are getting serious.

Unfortunately, a storm rolled over Rome that afternoon. Lightning flashed across the cloud-filled sky and thunder echoed through the plaza, shaking the windows. There was no way we could eat on the balcony tonight.

Donovan knocked on the divider at six. A plate of food was waiting for me inside the partition. I swapped it for a bottle of wine and knocked, but this time I left my door open.

When Donovan opened his door, he blinked in surprise to see me sitting on the bed. A roguish smile filled his handsome face.

“Guess our date’s canceled, huh?” he said.

“Looks like it. Rain check?”

He picked up the bottle of wine and held it in both hands, examining it, and I imagined his hands on me instead, cupping, squeezing, and holding me like he needed me as much as he needed the wine. His eyes raked over me for a moment, taking in the dress, my hair and makeup. Tonight there was a spark of something in his gaze when it lingered on the curves of my body. Like he didn’t want the rain to ruin our date.

Invite yourself in, I pleaded with my eyes. Ignore my rules and come sit down. Keep me company and make me laugh so I don’t have to drink alone.

But Donovan said, “Rain check, Feisty. Thanks for the booze.”

He hesitated a moment longer, as if waiting to see if I would invite him in, then he closed the door.

I fell back on the bed and groaned.

I definitely have a crush on my neighbor.

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