Casanova In Training Read online

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Casanova in Training

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-038-2

  ©Copyright Aliyah Burke 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright July 2012

  Edited by Rebecca Douglas

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 262 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 10 pages.

  In Aeternum

  CASANOVA IN TRAINING

  Aliyah Burke

  A woman who is all about rules and a man who lives to break them—their scorching passion threatens all they hold dear. Can they find a way to have it all?

  Lieutenant Commander Giovanni ‘Casanova’ Cassano is a top test pilot for the military, and is the epitome of an ace. Cocky, arrogant, handsome, and true to his call sign. His best friend’s death brings a new pilot to his squadron—a woman. That’s not even the real reason it’s hard—she’s the one who left an indelible imprint on his soul after a twenty-four-hour rendezvous. Now she seems to have ice in her veins, not the fiery passion he knows rages beneath the surface.

  Jaydee ‘Dusti’ Amos is following orders, and this time they have landed her at a test facility. She’s there to ascertain what caused the deadly B-2 crash. The situation becomes harder once she discovers who is stationed there—the one man she never believed she’d see again after their impulsive and passionate encounter. He pulls her focus from the job at hand and tends to make her break the stringent rules she lives her life by.

  Dedication

  To all those who are told you can’t and you not only do but you excel. To my Dad who gave me the idea for this story. I love you! Thanks for the endless support you’ve given me over the years. To my husband who has always believed in me even when I didn’t. Finally, but never last, to the men and women who protect this country. Thank you for your sacrifices.

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Jack Daniel’s: Jack Daniel’s Distillery, Lem Motlow Prop, Inc

  Mitsubishi Spyder: Mitsubishi Eclipse Spyder, Mitsubishi Motors Corporation

  Ninja: Kawasaki Motorcycles, Kawasaki Heavy Industries, Ltd

  Iridessa: Disney Fairies, The Walt Disney Company

  iPod: Apple, Inc.

  Blue Angels Citizen Eco-Drive: Citizen Holdings Co., Ltd

  Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

  Kinect: Microsoft Corporation

  Toyota 4Runner: Toyota Motor Corporation

  Mustang: Ford Motor Company

  NASA: NASA

  Dark Custom Blackline: Harley-Davidson Inc.

  Cessna Citation X: Cessna Aircraft Company

  Maserati: Maserati S.p.A

  Bluetooth: Bluetooth Special Interest Group

  Chapter One

  Rain ran in rivulets from both his black coat and the brim of his cover. Lieutenant Commander Giovanni Cassano barely moved, even with the loud and angry retorts of gunfire. The noise sounded ominous. Three sets of shots fired by the seven impassive men. He flexed one hand into a fist before relaxing and allowing the smooth glove to straighten.

  Through the dreariness, the beginning notes of Taps started to play, weaving in and out of the raindrops with haunting precision. His right hand snapped up in a sharp salute as his shoulders automatically squared even more.

  With a deep breath, he fixated on the casket and the two stoic men who had the honour and privilege of folding the flag. Their movements precise and perfected. Each of the thirteen folds corresponded to an important meaning and allowed him to see the wet gloves the men wore. White cotton to his black leather.

  First fold was representative of life. He swallowed hard and blinked. Two, three and four took place. The fifth fold, a tribute to the country. Tears burned the corners of his eyes. Six, seven, eight and nine. The tenth fold was a tribute to fathers, for they, too, had given both sons and daughters for the protection of the country since they were first born.

  Stiffening his spine, Giovanni clenched his jaw as he watched the remaining three folds to complete the thirteen, so the flag looked like a cocked hat. A reminder of the soldiers who served under George Washington, the sailors and marines who served under Captain John Paul Jones, and all those men and women who followed them in the United States Armed Forces, preserving the rights, privileges and freedoms enjoyed today. As the two men finished folding, the final poignant note faded from the air. And the salutes ended.

  He stood ramrod straight. Only his gaze moved as he tracked the presenter who paused before the slender auburn-haired woman clad in black. Michelle Walker. She sat there under a canopy beside her father to accept the flag.

  None of the military members there seemed affected by the steady downpour.

  “On behalf of a grateful nation,” the presenter said, offering the folded flag.

  Giovanni saw Michelle hesitate. The man with the flag waited, unmoving, until she finally took it. His hand rose into a salute and, when she gave him a nod, he completed it. The rain increased but Giovanni watched Michelle hold the flag to her chest.

  Over the pounding of the rain came the unmistakable sound of fighter jets. He lifted his gaze to see the four planes scream overhead, his heart clenched with a mixture of pain and regrets that he wasn’t even close to being ready to face. A lone jet peeled off and his heart did that same thing again. It should have been him up in the one that honoured the fallen man. But no… He had yet to be cleared for flight status.

  He ground his jaw and ignored the threatening tears. One by one people filed away, the rain not allowing the mourners any respite. Finally it was him and the two family members. His legs wouldn’t cooperate and he had to force them to move him closer.

  Stopping at the middle of the closed casket, he took a deep breath, and snapped a salute. “Goodbye, my friend,” he murmured before lowering his hand and walking off.

  Anger ate at his gut. It was never easy to lose a member of the military. However, when it was a fellow pilot and best friend, it became that much harder.

  “Giovanni?” a rattled yet distinctly feminine voice reached him. And halted him.

  He swallowed before pivoting around to face her. Damn it! For a brief second he was seeing him again. Alive and well. Michael Walker. Sidewinder. Best friend.

  She moved closer, the folded flag still clasped tightly to her chest. It hurt looking at her. Mike’s twin. A softer, feminine version of Michael, but he was still there in her delicate fe
atures.

  “Michelle.” He hated how gravelled his voice sounded.

  Green eyes watched him steadily. “You were going to leave without a word?”

  He put his gaze on their…her father. Martin Walker showed his age. He seemed so tired and worn out. However, in his eyes, there was anger. The siblings had taken after their mother. Giovanni had always teased Mike about being so pretty. Now his body had been so badly burnt and mangled it had had to be a closed-casket ceremony.

  “No,” he managed to say as he glanced from father to daughter. “I was going to wait by the car. Allow you final moments.”

  Martin shook his hand briefly then nudged Michelle. She lifted one gloved hand to wipe the tears from her eyes. “Take this.” She held the flag out to him.

  His heart seized as he glanced at the flag. Stars uppermost to remind us of our nation’s motto.

  “No. I can’t. That is for you.”

  Her smile was shaky at best. “Mike would want you to have it.”

  Giovanni glanced to Martin, ready to plead his case, only to pause. The look Martin bore told him the flag wouldn’t be going back with them. Martin was in a rage from having just buried his only son. He focused on Michelle and saw the opposite. She loathed to give it up and was only doing so for her father.

  Almost as if he hovered outside his body, he saw himself reaching for the flag. Michelle relinquished it to him but didn’t step back. Instead, she lifted his hand, pressed the flag against his chest, and hugged him.

  “Keep him safe,” she whispered in his ear.

  More of those damn tears threatened. “When you’re ready to take it…” He trailed off.

  “Thank you, Giovanni.”

  “Michelle!” Martin barked.

  She flinched at the tone but squeezed him one more time. A quick peck on the lips and she was gone. They were gone. Moreover, he stood in the raining cemetery, holding the flag given for the loss of his best friend’s life. The thunder rolled, ominous, and the rain picked up even more.

  He needed a drink. Badly. And, after he returned to his hotel room and changed from his uniform, he set off to do just that.

  * * * *

  The bar was crowded and noisy. Just what he wanted—a place to become invisible. He claimed a corner booth and sat there, bottle of Jack on the table beside him. He poured a drink for his fallen friend and drank it.

  “Here’s to you, Sidewinder.”

  Then he did his best to forget the pain inside him. He knew what Mike would have said. “Find a woman and enjoy life. Don’t cry for me.”

  Easier to think than to do. With dispassionate eyes, he watched the activity around him. Many women sauntered up to him, only to leave again when he ignored them.

  He poured another drink, craving the blur it made of his memory. He paused with his glass halfway to his lips. An unfamiliar tingle skated along the back of his neck. Glancing around the establishment, he found himself focusing on a woman he didn’t recognise or recall entering. She sat with another but he couldn’t look away from her.

  She had skin that reminded him of hot chocolate, with some whipped cream blended in. Lickable. Black hair drawn up and away from her face in a ponytail, it fell down to almost her shoulder blades. A low, purely animalistic reaction hit him square in the gut. His cock sprang to attention and he was halfway out of the booth before he realised it.

  He sat back down, continuing to stare unabashedly at her. He could see she wore an ice blue crossover top. All he longed to do was trail the straps with his tongue and see where they would lead. Discover her taste, her smell.

  Her head fell back and her laughter—he assumed it was laughter by the smile on her and the other woman’s faces—seemed to add to the glow about her. He scowled when two rather large men blocked his view.

  Draining his drink, he pushed to his feet then headed over there. It made absolutely no sense, especially for not having even been introduced to her, how possessive he felt towards this mystery woman. He came up around them and immediately his gaze honed in on her.

  Yes, definitely lickable. And biteable.

  She had full lips he wanted to kiss, a small, cute nose, and large eyes that were framed by thick, curved lashes. A punch to his solar plexus had him sucking for air when she pinned her gaze on him. Those eyes were killers, multi-hued like a tortoiseshell, and he felt himself willingly falling in.

  He glanced at the other two men, moved his gaze on to the second woman before settling once more on his woman. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question or a request, but that was his way.

  She stared at him, her unique eyes assessing, and he fought the urge to shift when he believed she’d seen past the outer shell. A slight grin lifted the corners of her lush mouth.

  “Sure.” Her voice fell smooth, thick, and rich like honey.

  She slid from the booth and he held his ground so she would have to brush against him. A plan that didn’t work as he’d intended. His cock was ready to punch free at the tantalising sweep of her full breasts across his chest.

  “Let’s go,” she said with a smile that made him think about thrusting his shaft in and out of her mouth.

  Gesturing for her to lead the way, he followed the seductive sway of her hips, which were draped in a tight, white leather skirt. He groaned and dragged his gaze down and over her long, lean legs and her fuck-me heels the same colour as her shirt.

  Fuck!

  He almost lost it right then and there. So he lengthened his stride to catch up to her. With those sexy heels, she would fit just right against him. He guessed her height without heels to be about five-seven.

  She tossed her head and rotated back to him. Her gaze took another trip along his body and he bit back his responding groan. The music changed to a slow, sultry ballad. Her eyes showed her hesitation and he reached out to draw her close before she left him standing there.

  A flirtatious smile lifted her lips as she willingly came closer to him. Her bare arms slipped around his neck and he took a shuddering breath when she pressed tight against him. Ignoring the fire in his blood, he placed his hands at her waist, fingers grazing the small of her back.

  “What’s with guys and issuing demands? You could have asked me to dance, you know.”

  He slid his hands around to cup her ass, bringing her flush to his blatant erection. “You could have said no.”

  “I get the feeling that isn’t a word you hear very often.”

  It was true. His call sign wasn’t Casanova without good reason. “Not too much.”

  Her fingers stroked along the back of his neck. He felt on fire, both inside and out. Each step took them closer to the edge of the dance floor. By the time the song ended, the two of them were in a darker hallway.

  He lowered his head, giving her half a second to stop him. She didn’t. Her mouth met his. She played the aggressor, sliding her tongue in and around his. Lust blazed to life in him and he ground into her, making his desire very clear. She moaned, a sexy sound—it came from the back of her throat and moved through him like electricity.

  His grip on her grew possessive as he took control of the kiss. She tasted like mint. Not peppermint or spearmint. Raw mint. Pure mint. It was addictive as hell and he couldn’t get enough. The feel of her against him, the taste of her—together they lessened the pain that had consumed him since the accident.

  He tore his mouth from hers and nibbled his way down her neck. Her gasp of pleasure coinciding with how she tilted her head to give him better access spurred him on. It didn’t matter that they were in a busy bar hallway. All that mattered was her. And sinking his hard length fully within her molten heat.

  His hands began moving beneath her short skirt, seeking his prize. She pushed on him and he drew back to glance down at her. Flushed. Passionate. Delectable.

  “Hold on there, handsome. I’m not into exhibitionism.”

  He gazed to his right and saw two men loitering there. Voyeuristic pleasure on their faces. “Go!” he said in a growl s
o low the word was hard to decipher.

  The meaning not. They left after only a few more leers at the woman in his arms. Again alone, he placed his gaze back on her. He held her stare before slanting his mouth back over hers.

  “We need to stop,” she said, a bit breathlessly, when he broke the kiss.

  “Why?”

  She took some deep breaths. “I came for a dance with you. Not to get fucked against a wall.” She gave him a small grin. “Besides, I’m the DD and I have to get them home.”

  Fury licked at his veins. “Don’t go with them. Those guys aren’t right for you.” What’d she need two of them for? He was more than enough for her.

  She tipped her head back and laughed. A vibrant sound that made his knees shake.

  “That’s cute, really. You think you know what’s best for me based on one dance and having your tongue down my throat.” It wasn’t a question. “Those two are like brothers to me, not that it’s any of your biz. Now I have to go. Early flight.”

  She gently removed his touch from her then stepped around him. Unwilling to let her go, he captured her wrist and tugged. “Come with me.”

  “You’re good,” she said with a small sigh. “Too good. That’s another thing I don’t do. You’ve got to me enough to get this far.”

  She captured her lower lip in her teeth before moving nearer. With her free hand, she cupped the back of his head and pulled him close. Her eyes darkened and she kissed him. Her nails scored the back of his head as her tongue invaded. He went from controlled to locked and loaded in a flash.

  The kiss ended and she pulled back. “Goodbye.”

  Then she walked away. Her friends met her and he moved towards them to hear her voice. Her laughter. She expertly herded her group to the door where she paused and glanced back at him. Her eyes flared with heat and it took every last ounce of his control to remain where he was. In a flash of blue and white, she was gone and his world got considerably darker.