by T. K. Leigh
“Then make me a believer.”
I didn’t know what came over me at that precise moment, but the tension I’d felt building all night had become unbearable. In desperation, I grasped his cheeks in my hands and forced his mouth to mine. His body stiffened momentarily before he groaned, deepening the kiss, his tongue expertly invading my mouth. His kisses weren’t reserved by any stretch of the imagination. They were full of passion and excitement. I didn’t remember Brock ever kissing me like this. His kisses were chaste. Restrained. Modest. They were nothing like the hungry way Dante kissed me, the way he held me against him, his mouth locked on mine in a way that made me think he couldn’t let go, even if he wanted to.
Panting, he tore away, surprising me. He studied me for several excruciatingly long moments, and I braced myself for him to walk away, to tell me I wasn’t the type of woman he was interested in.
Then he grabbed my hand and yanked me down a darkened alley. Before I could say anything, he clutched my hips, lifting me and forcing my legs around his waist as he pressed my back against the wall. With fever in his eyes, he dove in for another impassioned kiss, thrusting against me. I raked my fingers through his coarse hair, lost in the sensation of him between my legs. I was wound tight, desperate for some sort of release. I was on the precipice of coming undone, my brain a slave to my starving libido.
“Is this what you want, Eleanor?” he grunted, then cupped my face in his large hands, forcing me to peer into his eyes.
“Yes.”
He buried his head in the crook of my neck. My eyes rolled back into my head as his teeth clamped onto my skin. I gasped, the pain remarkably pleasurable. I had no idea what had come over me, but I wanted more, the ache jumpstarting my heart, bringing me back to life.
“Is this how you like it?” he murmured, his teeth never leaving my skin.
“Harder,” I moaned, dragging my fingernails down his back.
“Fuck,” he hissed as he continued to push against me, his motions becoming more erratic and violent. “God, I want to feel you. I bet your pussy would feel amazing wrapped around my cock.”
I’d never been so aroused in my life. There was something so primal, so carnal, so hot about hearing Dante speak with such greediness and longing. Every nerve in my body tingled, my skin flaming. I knew practically nothing about him, yet I craved him with every fiber of my being.
“I want that, too, Dante.” I tightened my legs around his waist, reveling in the sensation of him pulsing between my thighs. “I need to feel you inside me.”
“And you will,” he said, then pulled back. Our chests heaved in near unison, the sound of our labored breaths echoing against the desolate alley. When his eyes met mine, his deep pools grew heavy with turmoil. “But not tonight.”
I furrowed my brow, confused. A second ago, he was practically fucking me against the wall. Now, he helped lower my feet back to the ground and increased the distance between us. It felt like a bucket of cold water had been splashed over me.
“Not tonight?” I shot back, incredulous. “So now you decide to be a gentleman after practically eye fucking me all night?” I stepped toward him and lowered my voice. “After dry humping me against the wall?” I crossed my arms.
“I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get so carried away, Eleanor. For that, I apologize.”
I shook my head, rolling my eyes. “Don’t. I don’t need your fucking pity, Dante.” My face burned. I’d never been so embarrassed in my life. His rejection stung more than I expected it would. “Enjoy your evening.” I shoved his jacket at him, then stormed back down the alley.
When I emerged onto the street, I looked around, trying to get my bearings. I hadn’t paid much attention to where we were going as we walked to the fountain. Now I found myself somewhat lost.
“Eleanor,” Dante called out as I walked down the sidewalk, hoping I was headed in the correct direction. To where, I had no idea. I just wanted to find a cab soon.
“What?” I hissed over my shoulder as I kept walking, seeing him striding toward me. He easily caught up and grabbed my hand in his, forcing me to stop.
“I do not pity you at all, so get that thought out of your head right this second,” he growled. I swallowed hard at the passion with which he spoke. “In fact, I admire you a great deal.” His expression softened and he licked his lips. “You made a decision most people are too scared to. How could I pity a woman with that kind of strength?”
“But—”
“I got carried away.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew his cell phone, then typed on it for a brief moment. When he was done, he slipped it back into his pocket, returning his eyes to mine. “I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”
“You’re not,” I began, but he held up his hand.
“That may be so, but you’ve had a bit to drink tonight.” He leaned toward me, his breath dancing on my neck. “I want you to have a clear head for all the things I want to do to you.”
My stomach clenched, my imagination running wild with what that could entail. “And what would that be?”
He pressed his palm on the small of my back, dragging me into him. The way his tall, muscular body felt against mine set me on fire. It was nothing like Brock’s skinny frame. When Dante wrapped his arms around me, he swallowed me whole, the heat of his embrace consuming me, making escape impossible.
“You’ll have to wait to find out, my beautiful Eleanor, but I hope it’s exactly what you’re looking for.” He nibbled lightly on my lower lip before stepping back.
Instantly, a black sedan came to a stop beside us. A shorter man with graying hair jumped out.
“Bounasera, Signor Luciano,” he said, nodding a greeting as he reached for the back passenger door.
The men exchanged a few words in Italian as I looked on in confusion. Finally, Dante turned to me. “This is Antonio. He will drive you back to your hotel.”
“Oh.” My shoulders fell.
“If you’re still serious about what we discussed this evening…” He leaned toward me, his tone guttural, sensual, carnal as he whispered, “if you still want me to fuck you…” He retreated, his demeanor all business-like once more. “Meet me at the Spanish Steps at five tomorrow afternoon.”
“The Spanish Steps?” I raised a brow. “That’s in public. Not exactly conducive to…what we were discussing.”
“This discussion isn’t quite over yet. I need to make sure we’re both on the same page with our expectations.”
“I don’t have any expectations,” I insisted.
“Well, you should.” He led me to the car, helping me into the passenger compartment. Raising my hand to his mouth, he placed a gentle kiss on it. “I do hope I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, mia cara.” He released his hold on me, then stepped back, closing the door.
I kept my eyes glued on him as Antonio slinked behind the wheel and drove away. I had no idea how tonight had taken the turn it had, what had possessed me to proposition a complete stranger for a night of passion probably unlike any I’d ever experienced. But I knew one thing for certain. I would be at the Spanish Steps tomorrow afternoon at five.
Chapter Five
I checked my watch as I paced in front of the Spanish Steps, or Piazza di Spagna. 4:58 PM. My heart pounded in unison with my steps. The butterflies in my stomach flapped their wings relentlessly. My skin flamed with the memory of Dante’s touch, aching to feel it again. Fidgeting with the hem of the one sundress I’d packed, I scanned all the people congregated in the area. I couldn’t even appreciate the beauty before me. I was on edge, antsy. I couldn’t remember being this anxious when I sat for the bar exam. But as I waited for Dante, the anticipation of what this evening would bring made every inch of me buzz with excitement.
Before I hopped on that plane what seemed like a lifetime ago now, I stayed away from the unknown. I’d never thrown caution to the wind and done something without having a plan. It wasn’t that I didn’t like being spontaneous. I simply never had the opp
ortunity to do something crazy.
Not anymore.
I glanced at my watch again. 4:59 PM. Why did it seem like the seconds ticked by at such an excruciatingly slow pace? What if Dante had second thoughts? What if this whole thing was just a setup?
Instantly, I felt a warmth approach from behind, my body coming alive. A hand skimmed my exposed back, pushing my blonde hair over my shoulder.
“You came,” a deep, accented voice murmured. My breath quickened in response to the delicate way his hand grazed my skin. His touch was the most potent drug, and I’d do whatever was necessary to experience the bliss only his hands on my flesh could give me.
I spun around, my heart catching in my throat. There was something different about the way he looked at me today. Yesterday, his eyes were hungry, full of desire. Now it was more prominent. More ravenous. More…libidinous.
His gaze locking with mine, he grabbed my hand and, just as he did last night, raised it to his lips, feathering a soft kiss against my knuckles. But today, the kiss was more sensual, more arousing, more greedy.
“I hope to,” I murmured.
Straightening, he smirked. “You have quite the witty mouth, Eleanor.” He pressed his hand against my lower back. “I’m looking forward to seeing what else that mouth is capable of.” He buried his head in the crook of my neck, making my skin flame.
As I lay in bed last night, sleep hard to come by, I’d replayed the way his lips felt pressed against mine, the way his body moved so perfectly with mine, the way he didn’t seem to have a problem touching me in public. Dante seemed too good to be true, as if he was all my fantasies come to life.
“So,” I began as he peppered kisses down the line of my neck, my body quivering under his expert touch. “How does this work?”
He paused, his lips lingering on my skin, then pulled back. “What do you mean?”
“Should we go back to my hotel or…” I looked down, biting my lower lip. “This may come as a complete surprise,” I continued through a nervous laugh. “This is the first time I’ve propositioned a stranger to have sex with me, then never see him again. I’m not sure of the rules here.”
“And you think I’ve done this sort of thing before?” He lifted a brow.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Would you think any less of me if I had?”
“I am in no position to judge anyone else.”
“Very well.” He grabbed my hand, escorting me through the piazza. “We have a few things to discuss.”
“I told you. I don’t have any expectations, so why don’t we just get on with it already?” I worried I may lose my courage to follow through if we didn’t find a bedroom, and soon.
“I’d still prefer we go over a few things first.”
I pinched my lips together, giving him a look of irritation and annoyance.
“Don’t fret, Eleanor.” He stopped in his tracks and enclosed me in his muscular arms. “It’s to your advantage,” he murmured, his voice husky. “To make sure every single one of your cravings is satisfied. To make sure you feel things you never thought possible. To make sure you experience everything you’ve imagined.”
My eyes fluttered into the back of my head, my body eager for his touch on every inch of me. Even then, I doubted it would be enough. “If the whole chef thing doesn’t work out, you’d make a damn good gigolo.”
He laughed and stepped back, smiling a wicked smile. “Good to know. Shall we go talk over some tea?” He gestured toward a tea room a few feet in front of us.
Sighing, I reluctantly nodded, and Dante steered me toward the building. He opened the glass door and permitted me to enter ahead of him. I felt like I had just left the mystery and romance of Rome for nineteenth-century London. The tea room was decorated in traditional Victorian with a modern flair. Lace cloths covered the tables. Velvet tapestries draped the windows. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead.
“Signor Luciano,” one of the staff members said, rushing over to greet him, rattling off something in Italian.
“In inglese, per favore,” he interrupted, gesturing toward me.
“Si. Si.” The man looked at me, smiling, then back at Dante. “We didn’t know you’d be coming today,” he corrected with a heavy accent.
“I didn’t, either.”
“I believe someone’s already sitting at your favorite table.” He lowered his head, giving him an apologetic look.
“Va bene, Francesco. Do you have something a bit more secluded?”
“Si. Si. Yes, sir. This way, please.”
He led us past a dining area of small tables, through a doorway, and into a room with larger tables and plush velvet couches and chairs, the noise level much lower than the rest of the place. The walls were painted a turquoise color similar to that famous blue box from Tiffany’s. There were a few black-and-white prints in dark frames depicting well-known locations in London. Patrons sipped tea and enjoyed what appeared to be delicious cakes and cookies. It reminded me I hadn’t really eaten today. I doubted I’d be able to do so now with the nerves flowing through me.
The host led us to a round table in the corner and I slid onto the circular couch. Dante offered the man his thanks, then sat beside me. He surveyed me for several long moments, unnerving me. When I was about to open my mouth and argue that coming here was pointless, his voice cut through.
“So tell me, Eleanor…”
“Yes?” My voice was abnormally high-pitched, displaying my nerves.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
He leaned closer, peering at me with seductive eyes. “Why me?” he asked in the beautiful baritone I’d heard in my dreams. “Why do you want to do this?”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek, pondering. There were so many reasons on the tip of my tongue. Did he want me to simply flame his ego and tell him how attracted I was to him, how I’d fantasized about what he would feel like between my legs?
Analyzing his confident demeanor, he didn’t strike me as the type of person who needed an ego boost, unlike Brock. Instead of making up some benign answer that would get us into a bedroom quicker, I opted for complete transparency.
“Do you know what it’s like having every second of your life dictated for you?” I tore my eyes from his, staring out the window at the fountain in front of the Spanish Steps, marveling at how different everything had become in just forty-eight hours. “Until I stepped onto that plane, my entire life had been planned out for me. I never had a choice in anything.”
“Anything?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Anything,” I emphasized, meeting his gaze once more. “From the clothes I wore, to what college I attended, to the color of my hair.” I lifted a lock, then pushed it over my shoulder. “I’m not really a blonde, but you would have figured that out eventually anyway. Or I hoped you would.” I looked off into the distance, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. “My parents had a certain image to uphold, so they made sure I obtained a degree of their choosing, then went to law school.”
“So you’re a lawyer,” he commented in a drawn-out voice, as if it made all the sense in the world.
“Why? Have some lawyer jokes you want to tell? I’ve probably heard them all at this point.”
“I would never degrade anyone’s profession like that. Are you unhappy with your career?”
My face lit up. “Actually, I loved law school. It wasn’t the path I would have chosen for myself, but I was good at it — the research, the analysis, the persuasive writing. It was the first time in my life I felt like I had some control. Sure, I had to take the classes all law students are required to take, like contracts and constitutional law, but I was able to choose electives that interested me.” My face fell. “After I passed the bar, my father got me a job at a huge firm, and I was stuck doing corporate law.”
“I’m guessing it’s not the area you wanted to go into.”
“Not even close. Don’t get me wrong,” I added quickly. “I love what I do. Is it my dream
job? No, but I’m really good at it.” I toyed with the tines of the fork in front of me. “It’s the one area in my life I’ve ever had a say.”
Dante leaned back against the couch, studying me with intrigue, as if he were seeing me for the first time. “If it were up to you, what area of law would you want to practice?”
I released a breath, relaxing my shoulders. “Environmental.”
“That’s a commendable field. Why did your parents discourage it?”
I snorted out a laugh at how ridiculous his question was. Then again, he had no idea who my father was. “Let’s just say my father tends to believe global warming is a myth and we should bleed our resources dry by drilling everywhere.”
“I’m assuming you have a difference of opinion.”
I tapped my fingernails on the tablecloth. “I’m of the opinion that it’s important to know our nation’s history. There was a reason we enacted regulatory legislation, why we have agencies overseeing clean air, water.” I shook my head. “People think the planet will provide endless resources, but they don’t realize how much we’re destroying it every day.”
Just then, a petite dark-haired woman carrying a tray approached our table, interrupting our conversation. Offering us a smile, she placed a white tea pot and a few dishes with various cakes and cookies in front of us. I didn’t recall anyone ever coming to take our order. I assumed Dante simply had a standing order here.
Once we were alone, he grabbed the pot. “Tea?”
“Yes, please.”
He flipped over the cup in front of me and began to pour. “Milk or sugar?”
“No, thank you. I prefer my tea black.” I studied him as he poured tea into his own cup, adding just a bit of milk. “No sugar for you, either?” I brought my cup to my mouth, softly blowing on it.
“That’s correct, Eleanor. I prefer my tea as I do my women. Bold, assertive, with just a hint of natural sweetness.” He winked.
Something about his brazen attitude made me feel like a giddy teenager. Early in life, I was taught to always maintain my composure in front of other people. It was my level-headed and placid demeanor during negotiations that typically unnerved my opponent. I never displayed any emotion, never raised my voice, always remained calm. Making a name for myself in a profession that had been dominated by men for hundreds of years hadn’t been easy. I’d made it a point to be as reserved and thick-skinned as all my male colleagues. It was the only way to get ahead.