Quinn
Tempting.
So. f*****g. Tempting.
And sweet. And innocent. And gorgeous.
I should stop my brain from cataloging all these thoughts about my twenty-two-year-old Italian tutor, but where would the fun be in that?
I’ve yet to get any actual work done this morning, because all my brain wants to do is focus on the woman whose scent still lingers lightly in my office from the night before.
But, Jesus, she’s twenty-f*****g-two.
My lesson with Alessandra was anything but expected. I’ve been meeting with Sal once a week for a year. Learning Italian has been part of my plan to capture some of my family’s heritage. With both of my parents out of the picture, the way we grew up, there wasn’t time for discussing the family tree or swapping stories on genealogy. And now that I’m older and ha
