“I’ve tried. I thought it might help me cope better with the stress of Haydon. I tried to learn from reading books.”
“I rise early as a rule.” His gaze drifted over her, dwelling on her breasts and then sliding lower. The glass tabletop enabled him to look at the green lace pulled up to her hips.
She pushed her thighs together almost involuntarily, her face burning. Her body was slick with need and with the candlelight playing over her, it would be impossible for him not to notice.
“Don’t do that. Widen your thighs, Grace.” He spoke in that same low tone, the one that got to her, but also was more of a command than a statement.
She found herself obeying and the moment she did, her sex clenched hotly, and more liquid slipped along her upper thighs.
“So beautiful. I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You’ve set up a craving that is never going away.” He leaned across the small table. “I would very much like another taste, bella.”
She froze, uncertain what he meant her to do. He didn’t help her out at all, rather he lifted his wineglass to his fantastic mouth that she was now fantasizing over, and drank the red liquid, his eyes on her face.
More than anything, Grace wanted to meet his every expectation, because every look, every gesture, every suggestion was so sexual, so intimate, she was more aroused by the moment. She wanted to feel beautiful, desirable, but it was more than that. He made her feel as if she belonged to him. That every single part of her belonged to him. She’d always wanted something different and more complex than she knew most people had in their relationships, but she hadn’t known what it was. Now she did.
Vittorio didn’t ask again. He remained silent, but he set his glass down, his eyes on her face. Very slowly, Grace put down her fork, her gaze locking with his. Her hand moved to her neck, fingers feeling the pulse beating so frantically there. Her fingertips traveled down her body, between the curves of her breasts, lower along her belly, absently traced her belly button.
The heat in his eyes flared. Smoldered. Lust was stark and raw. His gaze followed the movement of her hand as it slid over the green lace and then into the damp, fiery curls. He waited. Unmoving. Daringly, just to please him, because she knew that was what he wanted, she stroked her clit and then curled one finger inside the damp heat of her body.
Her breath hitched as electricity sizzled through every nerve ending. His breath hitched as well, and she saw his face darken, lines of lust cut deep. He looked like sin itself—the devil tempting her when she was doing her best to tempt him.
“All the way for me, Grace.” His voice was a little husky, but as commanding as ever.
She pushed her finger deeper and then turned it, making certain to coat the digit with her liquid heat. She pulled it out slowly and held it out to him. The liquid glistened as the candlelight played over it.
“Mia bella ragazza, sei cosi coraggioso. I never thought it would ever be possible to find you.” He circled her wrist with his hand to steady her arm. “In all honesty, I didn’t think there was a woman in the world for me. You couldn’t be more perfect.” He leaned closer and took the tip of her finger between his lips, his eyes on hers as he slowly sucked it deeper into the hot cavern of his mouth.
The bottom of her stomach seemed to drop to the floor. She really was afraid she might spontaneously combust.
He sank back into his chair and once again picked up his fork. “You have to eat, gattina, and we really have to talk.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Vittorio watched the frustrated sexual need build in Grace’s eyes. He reached across the table to take her fork when she just sat there looking at him, a little dazed and as adorable as she could be. He forked a bite off her plate and held it to her lips until she opened. She could have been stubborn, but that wasn’t his woman. She tried for him.
He’d made up his mind years earlier that he would never have the life he wanted or even needed. He would do his duty as a rider and he’d be faithful in a loveless marriage. That was a matter of honor. He