by Traci Hall
He parked, turned to Sarah and leaned across the console to kiss her.
Startled, she kissed him back, pressing her lips against his mouth with a small hum at the back of her throat. The heat between them flared to life and it was all he could do to stay on his side of the damned car.
Screw it.
He unbuckled his seat belt, pushed the car seat back so he could get out from behind the wheel. Impatient, wanting her closer, he knelt over the console and cupped the back of her head in his palm.
Her eyes turned dark green with desire, which amped his need higher until he thought he might combust.
“Franco?” She lightly wet her lips with her tongue as if nervous beneath his gaze.
“We are not friends, querida. How many times must I tell you this? I want you, Sarah.” He brought her gently to him, then captured her mouth in a searing kiss. He caressed her bare arm, felt her unhook her seat belt as she too perched on her knees in the front seat of his car.
It wasn’t level and she slipped back with a soft laugh.
“Somehow I never imagined making out with you in the front seat of your car.”
Franco pulled back a few inches, their noses a hair’s breadth apart. “It’s been a while, yes. I am not going to apologize.”
She brought her hand up to the back of his neck, trying to find balance. “For kissing me?”
“For wanting you.”
“I don’t want you to be sorry. I’ve never felt like this.” She tickled her fingers across his jaw. “I knew when I first saw you, dark and handsome, that you would kiss like the devil himself. Your mouth is pure temptation.” She spoke, their mouths almost touching.
“You thought I was tempting? Even when you gave me the citation?” He dropped his hand to the curve of her hip. “I’ve heard of giving someone flowers to show how you feel, but never a ticket. It must be an American tradition.” Franco tugged her closer.
Sarah gently nipped his lower lip. “I didn’t want to let you off the hook just because you’re sexy.”
Franco grinned. “You think I’m sexy?”
She nodded, her cheeks turning pink as she stared into his eyes. “Unbelievably hot.” She trailed her tongue across the spot she’d nipped and his blood fired.
“You’re a goddess,” he said, his voice deep.
Sarah laughed. “Flesh and blood woman.” She leaned into his caress as he followed the dip of her waist. “Don’t get your expectations too high.”
He pulled her up and into his arms, wrapping her tightly in his embrace. They fell backward into his front seat, the position not one for comfort.
She landed on top of him, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she placed her hands on either side of his face, her lower half hovering over his very evident ardor. “I think we should go in and order lunch.” She skimmed her hand over the hard ridge straining against his jeans, teasing. “Then we can think about dessert. Back at my house.”
Franco, feeling as frustrated as a hormonal teenager, stole one last kiss, ramping up the heat so that her eyes crossed. “I don’t care about food.”
Sarah, pulse at her neck pounding wildly, sat back and pulled him toward her. “Anticipation makes everything better.”
*****
Sarah entered the restaurant, brushing Franco’s arm as he held the door open for her. There was no way she was going to get through this lunch without touching him. Kissing him. If there was a dark booth in the back, she might even do something more wild.
Putting her hand on his chest, she blinked against the dim interior.
He covered her hand, lowering her fingers down his belly. She pulled back when she hit his belt buckle. His low chuckle washed over her like whiskey, invigorating her senses while bathing her in sensual warmth.
A woman came from the back, flour in her hair. Or maybe it was just gray? “Welcome! Oh, hello there,” she said in friendly tones. “I remember you. Franco, right? I sent you home with an order of garlic knots.”
He laughed and held out his hand. “That’s me. They were delicious. I’ve brought...someone special...with me for lunch today.”
Sarah also shook the woman’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.” The woman didn’t sound at all Italian, and she looked nothing like what Sarah pictured someone might if they were from the swamps.
“I’m Lana. This way,” the woman said, grabbing two plastic menus from the desk. She led the way to a side area where two other couples were already eating lunch. Four tables remained empty. “It’s early still, but I’ve got a kitchen full of goodies.”
“Thank you,” Franco said, holding Sarah’s chair for her.
Sarah murmured thank you, and watched him take his seat.
“Wine?” Lana asked, handing them each a menu.
“Sarah?” Franco asked.
She shook her head. “Iced tea. Unsweetened, please. With lemon.”
“Two of those.”
The woman nodded. “Coming up. Rolls? The lunch specials are in the middle. I’ll be right back. I’ve been working on my chicken cacciatore.”
“Is that what I smell? Porcini mushrooms?”
The woman laughed, pressing her hands to her belly. “Yes, yes. What else?”
“Rosemary.” Franco sniffed the air. “White wine, tomatoes.”
“You are good, sir.”
“I’ll have that, please.”
“You don’t want to read the menu?” Lana’s smile creased her face and her eyes shone.
“No. I want your specialty. What else do you have back there?”
“Lasagna with veal sausage.”
“I’ll have an order of that as well.”
Sarah handed her menu back. “I’ll have what he’s having.” Yes, she was independent, but she could follow when it was a good idea.
“Your gentleman knows delicious food,” the older woman said with an acknowledging nod.
“Yes, he does.” And how to kiss, and touch, and enjoy life to the fullest. Heaven help her, but her mother’s warning about being in over her head didn’t even matter. Her heart was already in the deep end.
Franco covered her hand, his strength enveloping her. “We will try one of everything.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles as he and the woman picked a feast.
Sarah didn’t care what they ate, so long as she was here, with Franco.
Was it wrong?
A hook up would be impossible, because her feelings were involved. A love affair would hurt nobody but herself, so long as they kept it from Bella. The chance to be with Franco, even if just for a few hours, didn’t hurt anybody. She wouldn’t create expectations, she would be in the present.
The decision made, Sarah let herself be open to him, scooting closer as the garlic knots arrived.
“It’s a good thing we are both eating these,” she said. “I plan on kissing the hell out of you after lunch. I’d hate to kill you with my breath.”
Franco stopped mid-bite, his eyes darkening with desire. “You do?”
She nodded, wishing they could skip lunch and go back to her apartment.
“I wish I hadn’t ordered so much,” he said. “Do you think we can get it to go?”
Laughing, she put her hand on his knee beneath the table.
Her phone dinged and she pulled away from Franco, getting her phone from her purse. Two texts from her mother. One wanting to know how things were going, the other letting her know that there was a call about a cat in a pool, but Martin was handling it. To take the day off.
A missed call came from Courtney, but no message. Not good. She’d specifically asked for an extension, and if the answer was yes, Courtney would have said so. No message meant no extension, and her friend would want to break it to her gently.
“Are things all right?” Franco asked, wiping a drop of butter from his full lower lip.
She swallowed and dropped the phone back into her purse. She wouldn’t let the news ruin her day. “Yeah. Martin has to fish a cat from a pool. He doesn’t like the water
.”
“The cat?”
“No, Martin.” She let her eyes crinkle but didn’t smile.
His lips curled upward. “Does that happen a lot?”
“More than you would think. Cat’s get curious about floating things and that sometimes gets them in trouble.” Like me, curious about Franco.
“They can swim?”
“Sure, but they don’t like it. And they can’t get out, usually.”
“Martin can handle this. How often do you take a day off?” He leaned on one elbow, his hair falling forward over his forehead. He focused on her, and she basked in the attention.
“I’ve only been in business a year. I need to be there.” She liked to think she was needed, anyway.
“How about you take a break? Fly with me somewhere?” He reached across the table for her hand. “I’m serious this time. We can be in Costa Rica tonight.”
Sarah sat back in her chair, the wooden slats poking into her spine, both hands in her lap. He lived a completely different life. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She frowned, studying his expression. “I’m not free, and neither are you. Bella?”
“Bella has vacations. Weekends off.” Now it was his turn to frown. “I see what you mean.”
Sarah pointed between them. “We should just have lunch, and get back to our normal lives. Forget about kissing.” And other amazing things she could only imagine. If his kisses were enough to make her head spin, how would he be in her bed?
He drank half of his tea in one go, setting the red plastic glass on a napkin. “I don’t want to forget about it.”
Lana came out, followed by a waiter carrying six different plates. “I am so happy that you came today,” she said. “I made you smaller plates of our best dishes, so you can taste it all.”
Sarah stifled her frustration behind the napkin she held to her lips. She saw the tick at Franco’s jaw before he smiled with thanks toward Lana. “It smells divine. I think I’ll have that glass of wine now.”
Holding one finger up in the air, Sarah nodded. “I’ll take one too.” Maybe a bottle to share was in order. Being tempted with desire, thwarted by pasta and tomato sauce, was too much to handle sober.
Steaming dishes were uncovered, revealing more food than she’d seen in months. “Mussels?” She looked at each platter in amazement. Who went into a restaurant and ordered everything on the damn menu? A man used to getting what he wanted. “Scallops? Chicken, fish, lasagna. What is that in front of you, Franco?”
“This is the cacciatore.” He breathed in the steam and closed his eyes. “You will love this, Sarah. Just wait and see.” He winked at her and she knew he was talking about more than the feast in front of them. “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sarah put her hand on the passenger door of the Ferrari as Franco pulled into her driveway. The interior of the car smelled like garlic, but not even that could put a dent in the sexual tension she’d tried so hard to ignore on the drive home. Franco had kept his hand on the back of her neck, lightly tracing the delicate bones with his thumb and fingers. His touch made her entire body stand on point. Electric. Would they make love? Wouldn’t they? They didn’t speak, as if that might break the spell.
“Would you like to come in?” She didn’t recognize the deep tones of her voice.
He removed his hand and she wanted to cry at the loss. Franco gestured to the time blinking on the dash. “I have an hour before I need to pick Bella up from school.” He eyed her, his hands twisting on the steering wheel, his jaw tight. “I know what I want to do. What do you want?”
Sarah wet her lips, every inch of her aware of Franco. Craving Franco despite the heavy meal in her belly. Despite knowing she was out of her league. If she sent him away, she might never know the feel of him again. They were playing with fire, and she would get burned. But for once, she didn’t care.
She unbuckled her seatbelt. Martin had said he’d bring her the truck when he closed up for the afternoon. Hours from now. Her dogs were at the warehouse with her mom.
Was she tempting fate?
Or torturing herself with what could never be hers for more than a few stolen hours at a time?
Just one time, she told herself, leaning across the console to kiss him. Then later they could see what the future might hold. No expectations. “I want you.”
After a light brush of her mouth across his, he nodded and turned off the car. “I should probably see you inside. As a gentleman.”
He met her gaze. Held it.
She didn’t want him to be a gentleman, but she sure did want him to come inside.
She swallowed and waited for him to come around to her side of the car. They were going to do it. Make love. Her breath seemed caught in her chest, her heart pounding so hard surely he could hear it.
Opening the door of the car, he reached down for her hand and lifted her up. His touch made her stomach tighten with anticipation. Need. Her blood was on fire causing goose bumps to prickle her skin. Just the idea of Franco in her house, in her bedroom, in her bed, made her mouth dry.
She moistened her lips, almost tripping over her own sandals as he touched the small of her back. Lifted the silky fabric to caress the bare skin at her spine.
“Your keys?” he asked, voice unrecognizable and deep.
Sarah pulled them from her purse, leading the way to her front door as if they’d had a bottle of wine instead of just one glass each. “Here.”
He stayed at her back as if glued to her, his hands on her hips. She felt his arousal and it heightened her own. He stood behind her, breaths coming warm against the side of her face. He bent down and licked her ear, making her hot and cold at the same time.
“Are you sure?” he rumbled.
She opened the door, wanting him so badly it hurt. She yanked him inside and pushed the door closed, locking it behind them. “This way.” Hand in hand, she led him through her foyer. She heard her breaths, heard his, too. Passion was a tangible thing, something she tasted in the air around them. Felt in the electricity between them.
They got five steps down the hall before he turned and pinned her against the wall. “I need you.” He crushed her mouth to his in a searing kiss, teasing the seam of her mouth with his tongue. “Let me in.”
Nodding, she molded against him as he ran his hands from her shoulders, down her arms to her waist, her hips, her stomach. He lifted her shirt and pulled it over her head, dropping kisses along her collarbone as he pulled her close.
The rigid length of him pressed against her hip and her core ached with need. It had been so long...if she was honest, hell, she’d never felt like this before. As if she would die if she didn’t have sex with Franco de Silva, right now.
She buried her hands in his hair as he kissed her breasts. He teased her nipples through the thin fabric of her bra.
Tugging him down the hall, they went another few steps before Franco gathered her in his arms and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he lowered her so that she rode him as he walked. Arching against him brought pleasure so intense her eyes watered and her breasts tightened.
He groaned. “Your bedroom?”
She pressed against him, not letting go. “Last door.” Sarah leaned into his chest and kissed him hard. “On the left.”
He moved slowly, his hands on her hips, her ass, her waist, in her hair and along her spine until they finally reached her bedroom.
She didn’t care that the bed wasn’t made. All she wanted was Franco.
Primal.
He dropped her on the bed, unbuckling his belt as she sprawled backward, trying to catch her breath.
Franco was beautiful in a classic way. Dark curls, heavy brows, lush lower lip and stubble along his jaw. Realizing that she liked watching him undress, he slowed his pace as he drew his shirt off, revealing a firm set of abs and a pleasure line from his navel into his jeans. Rose-colored nipples beaded beneath her stare.
“You’re gorgeous,�
� she said, not recognizing her own voice.
“I am glad you like what you see.” He leaned over her, tracing the outline of her cheekbones with a tender caress. “I know we will be magical together.”
His Brazilian male arrogance seemed perfect for the bedroom. For once she didn’t want to set him straight.
“I will make you soar, querida.”
She tugged at him, hoping to topple him onto the bed, but he stepped away to unbutton his jeans and slide them down past his hips.
He kicked them off and stood before her in black boxer briefs that left nothing to her imagination.
Golden skin, dark hair, a stiff erection all made her feel as if she was way too hot to be wearing any of her clothes.
Intuitive in a lover’s way, he knelt at her side and slid her bra off. Her breasts, free, pebbled beneath his gaze. She leaned into him as he brushed his thumbs over her nipples.
“Let me,” he said, gently pushing her backward.
She was putty. A knot of erogenous zones begging to be touched.
He gave her a sensual half-smile that promised much. Sliding her shorts down, he kept her panties in place, tossing her clothes to join his jeans.
She laid back, her skin damp. Franco brought her wrists over her head, holding her with one hand and caressing her trembling flesh with the other.
“You are beautiful.” He released her wrists, wrapping her hair around his fingers and pulling her upward for a kiss. “Your eyes hold secrets, Sarah. A mystery I want to unfold.”
“No mystery,” she said in a low voice, unable to keep from touching him. His waist, his belly, his shoulders, his ass. The teasing sweep of his erection against her made her want to cry. “An open book.”
Franco leaned down on one side, sliding his knee over her thigh. Pinning her, so he could trace the outline of her ribs. The concave of her lower belly. The lace of her panties. When she tried to rise, to move, he kept her still with one hand on her hip. “No woman is easy to read. You captivate me.”
He brought his hand up the swell of her breast and she groaned. “Hurry, Franco.” She turned her body toward his, skimming her hand over the musculature of his ass, the stiffness of him, straining against the cotton of his briefs. “I want you inside me.”