I'd never had the patience for dating. No one I'd met in high school had ever treated me with even half the respect Beppe did. When he looked at me, he was pleased to see me. When the boys I'd gone to school with looked at me, most of the time they were on the point of delivering some fat joke, or pretending to hit on me just to make me get flustered and blush.
But the joke's on them, because high school is over now and I never have to go back, and I never have to deal with immature morons like that ever again. And whatever else happens, I know I didn't imagine Beppe calling me his woman.
Hearing that makes coming here worth it. If only I really believed he meant it. But I'm too sensible for that. I have to be, unless I want my heart totally broken.
CHAPTER THREE
Beppe
Early morning, the sky is pale and quiet and the air is cool compared to the temperatures it's going to reach when the sun gets high enough in the sky to bake the city.
The river's the best place to be, and after a night spent tossing and turning, thinking about what I'm going to say to Dana when I see her next, I really need the outlet.
Since college, I've rowed and when I got back to Florence one of the first things I did was get hold of a single man skiff.
I need the burn of lactic acid in my bulging pecs as I pull the heavy oars through the water, pushing my boat on. My feet are strapped to the cleats and my thighs bulge with every stroke I take. The sweat gluing my t-shirt to my back is cathartic, everything I need.
These are the only strokes I'm letting myself have and I need to burn the energy off. Dana makes me so hard I don't know what to do with myself. Just thinking about her turns me into some kind of beast but I refuse to take the easy option and find release in the palm of my hand when I know it would be no kind of real release at all. I need her beneath me to bury into. That's the only way I'll ever find peace again.
The next time I come, it's going to be deep inside her. She's going to take the full load of my seed and every single swimmer I have will know its purpose - to find her eggs and make her mine forever. I want her more than I've ever wanted any woman. Not that I've had the time for any.
Out of college, my priority was setting up my business, opening as many boutique, luxury hotels as I could. I worked all the hours that there were in the day, and that fast-paced life has only just started to let up. I didn't let myself have any distractions because no one I met seemed worth my time, but as soon as Dana stepped through the arrivals gate, I knew I'd met my match.
Something about her told me she was the only woman for me. None of the women in this city or any other could match up. She was calm and classy where they were loud and brash. She didn't have to wear flashy makeup because her natural beauty shone through and when she smiled, the gleam in her eyes floored me. I've never met anyone who made me hard on sight, but Dana did. Hell, she made me hard even when I wasn't looking at her at all.
With gritted teeth, I pull harder on the oars, propelling my boat through the water, trying to focus on the sleek efficiency of my craft. I'd row the length of the river and back again, but I still wouldn't be free of my frustrations. Nothing could make the need for her that I have simmer down.
She takes up my every waking thought.
The things she does to me without even knowing make me want to find out what it will be like when I get to touch her, get to kiss her. There's no way I can control myself, even though all she deserves is to be treated like the empress she clearly is.
I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since she landed in Florence and I knew I was never going to get her off my mind. I can't take the thought of standing by while any other man in this city tries to make a move. Her father be damned, she has to be mine, and that means enough is enough, I have to make my move.
If he has anything to say about it, he'll have to come to me. One way or another, I will make him understand.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dana
It's my last night with this tour group, the first set of tourists I've taken around Florence all on my own, and I'm really starting to feel like this could be a job I could do. Ahead of me is a full four days off before the next group comes in, and I know I'll do an even better job next time.
Dad set these tours up loving all the art in this amazing city and knowing that there was an audience who wanted to see it all too. He wants me to major in Art History when I go to college, so I can do an even better job than him and take over his legacy, but I've never had the passion for the art that he does. Sure, I have no problem learning all the things to say about each painting, each artist - I've basically soaked it all up from Dad listening to him rehearse what he wants to say over the years - but it's not my passion.
I've loved being in this city, but it's another kind of art I've enjoyed experiencing. Call it cliche for a big girl like me, but the food here is out of this world. The chefs are amazing. I've had gelato like I've never tasted, pasta that makes me think the noodles you get back home are some other kind of cuisine entirely. Bread like nothing I've ever known. Every new place we stop for lunch is an education and I've been trying to take as many notes as I can so I don't forget any of it.
Cooking is a deep love of mine, and while I've never seen myself as a chef, I dream of making the perfect meals for my family, making sure my kids grow up eating the most amazing things. I want to be the mom who bakes chocolate chip biscotti, and makes ragu from scratch, and it's my dream come true to actually be here tasting everything I can. I know it's hardly the most progressive thing, but when I think about my future, I think about being a mom and a wife and making a perfect home, like the one I didn't have a chance to have with Dad traveling so often and Mom being really sick before she died.
I know I need some kind of career, but for now all of my food passions go into my blog. I'm hoping that maybe I'll get enough experience out here to cater parties back home when I do go back, and then at least I'd be bringing people some happiness with all my food before I find the right man to settle down with.
Trouble is, I've half convinced myself that's Beppe already. Everything is so much better with him in the picture and I don't want to picture my life without him in it.
Dinner at the hotel restaurant is supposed to be a final send-off for the group, which means I'm still on duty, making sure that everyone is attended to and has an excellent time. I thought I'd find this part of the job the hardest, but it's been easy with Beppe right there to facilitate everything at every turn. He's been so much more than my liaison. He's been there every step, acting as translator every time I've needed one.
I know he's had to take a holiday from his usual work, but he doesn't seem to mind and every day I can feel myself falling even more for his smile.
His staff have set out a long table for the whole group and when I come down, they're already busy chatting, making a dent in the platter of antipasti, cured meats and soft cheeses glugging their way through all of the complimentary Prosecco.
I take a glass of orange juice instead. I don't drink, and by now it's no surprise to me to see Beppe raise his glass to me across the room and see he's got fruit juice too.
My heart thunders in my chest as he crosses the room towards me and I can't stop thinking about what he said the day before, and whether he meant it. I can't stop looking at the way his sleek black shirt clings to his chest and his pants show off the muscular swell of his thighs.
His hair is salt and pepper at the temples, showing off the blue, blue of his eyes even more sharply and every time he looks at me, I forget how to breathe. I want him to do things to me that I can't even put into words, but my body is hungry for his. Just one look and I feel my panties becoming wet. I have to fight the urge to spread my legs for him like some kind of animal in heat.
I've never felt this way before, but when I look at Beppe all I want is for him to take me. To show me what it is to be a woman as opposed to just a girl. He's the only one I could ever imagine touching me, taking my innocence
, and I know that when he touches me I'll be ruined for all other men. How could I ever want anybody else after him?
He crosses the room like he's drawn to me by some preternatural force and before I can blink, he's taken my wrist in his large hand.
"Come with me."
I don't hesitate. When Beppe asks something of me, every single atom of my being jumps to obey and right now there's a look in his eyes that I don't want to argue with.
He leads me out of the restaurant, back behind the bar to a small kitchen where they must wash the glasses. And then he's looming close, leaning into my personal space, but it could never be near enough. My skin prickles at the feel of his warm breath against my neck as he leans down to tuck my hair behind my ear and I nearly whimper with desire.
He makes me feel so small next to him, and so protected. Being with him is everything I've ever wanted. If only he'd lean down and kiss me.
"Congratulations are in order."
"Really?" I can feel myself flush at his compliment, but it isn't only embarrassment making heat flare up along my veins.
"Definitely. Everyone has been saying what a good job you've done and how interesting you made everything."
My teeth bury into my lower lip and I look up at him through hooded eyes, wishing that this praise was just a little more personal.
"Everyone?"
"Everyone," he repeats, stepping even closer. I gulp as he takes my glass from my hand and sets it down on the countertop next to him. His tone is solid, unshakable, and for a long moment I'm caught in his stare. "Especially me."
His broad hand cups my jaw and his thumb tips my chin towards him. My heart jolts faster, pounding dizzyingly in my ears and my lips part automatically. When he ducks his head and presses his lips to mine I swear I nearly pass out. Clinging to his biceps is the only thing that stops me from slumping into a heap on the floor.
His lips are possessive and demanding as they press determinedly against mine. Automatically, I part my lips, letting his tongue snake into my mouth to plunder mine and a shiver of arousal goes through me as he slides his muscled thigh between my legs. All at once I want him thrusting into me with quite another part of him. If his lips are this good, what would the rest of him be like? I've never even imagined anyone taking my virginity, but now it's all I can focus on.
The kiss is everything I ever thought it would be and more, his arms sweep around me, pinning me against his strong, muscled body. I can feel the heat of his arousal pressing firmly against my soft belly, making me breathless with desire and I can hardly believe any of this is real. I barely stop myself from grinding against his thigh when he presses it closer. It's all I can do to stop myself from whimpering.
I'm gasping softly when he pulls away, but I can't stop the smile that breaks across my face. That kiss was full of fireworks. The kind I never thought I'd get.
"God, Dana… you're so beautiful," he says.
From any other man, I wouldn't believe those words, but with the way his body is reacting to mine I know he really means it. Lust is heavy in his eyes and his hands are still stroking hungrily down my sides, over the curves of my hips and my waist. I love the way he grabs at me, firm and demanding in what he wants from me, but there's a niggle of doubt I can't quite crush.
I'm not the thin, toned woman he deserves and with every inch his hands roam over me I'm more and more aware of it. His fingers find the buttons of my shirt and I freeze.
I almost shove his hands away, embarrassed by my extra padding, but the look in his eyes is smoldering. I don't dare stop this. Not when he's acting like I'm all he wants and he's everything I never thought I could have for years. I'm not going to sabotage myself.
"Oh Beppe… I never thought you even saw me."
He's touching me like he can't get enough and I don't want him to stop.
"How could I miss the most gorgeous woman in the room?"
He makes me feel like a goddess in one of the paintings I've been talking about all week and there's no room for me to question it when he's just kissed me like he needs my lips more than air itself.
I'm desperate for him and backing away might be the right thing to do, but I don't want to. No one's ever touched me like this, and I want to feel more of his strong body against mine, let his hands squeeze my rounded hips and cling onto me like I'm everything he needs.
I'm breathless, but I know I need more. I want to feel his skin hot against mine with nothing in the way. I'm moaning for him, far too hungry and it must show, but there's no space to feel embarrassed when Beppe's hands are everywhere and his cock is rutting against me in lazy little bucks like he can't even help himself even though we're both fully clothed.
Behind us, the door creaks open and I let out a shaky gasp, pulling away with reddening cheeks as I check the buttons on my blouse, making sure my skirt isn't up over my panties. Beppe gives the unfortunate waiter who's standing there with an empty tray a fierce glower.
"Excuse me," I push past the man, all too aware that the whole staff of the hotel must think I'm only here because Dad runs the tours, that I have far too many favors coming my way already. The last thing I want is anyone spreading rumors about me and Beppe. I'd never live it down.
Not that they'd be rumors if I let him have his way and take what we both want. But it doesn't take much of a stretch of the imagination to picture them all laughing at me, asking him what game he's playing with me. Someone as handsome and perfect as Beppe shouldn't be with someone like me. Or that's what I used to think, before he kissed me.
Now, I know he's meant to be mine. But what would they all think of me? What would Dad say if it got back to him?
I walk a little faster down the corridor, back to the restaurant area of the hotel where a cheer goes up as soon as I enter the room and a round of applause erupts.
I'm about to die of embarrassment. Why is everyone clapping? Surely they can't have all seen us?
Then Mr. Cooper, the head of the group I've been guiding around Florence for the whole week stands up and I realize he's holding a bunch of flowers.
"Dana, you've really done us proud this past week, and we all wanted to show our appreciation. You've been swell and it's been an honor to be your first group."
He shakes my hand and I stutter out my thanks, all too aware of Beppe's footsteps in the marble hall coming to an abrupt halt.
"Thank you Mr. Cooper. You really didn't have to. This is so kind," I say.
The flowers are beautiful and really, this is so sweet, but I still can't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder to find Beppe leaning against the doorframe of the room, one hand fisted in his pants pocket, pulling the fabric away from his groin, his perfectly tailored suit jacket hanging open at the front.
He looks ruffled and far, far too aroused to be here right now. I feel myself swallow and turn away back to the crowd who are so keen to show their appreciation of me. I can't wait to be alone with Beppe again, but there's no way I can get out of this.
I only hope I don't look like I've just been kissed to within an inch of my sanity in the back of the bar.
CHAPTER FIVE
Beppe
I spend the rest of the evening watching Dana from the other side of the room, finding every excuse to mill around the edges of the tour group, even though usually the last thing I want to do is make small talk with any of them.
She has her camera and she's taking snaps of all the food and the people eating it. I know when she goes up to her room she'll upload them all to her blog and write about every new thing she's eaten today. Following along her culinary adventure has become a guilty pleasure of mine and I can't wait to have the chance to show her some truly special things to eat.
After that kiss, after everything she told me, I can't wait to get my hands on her again. I've already wasted too much time trying to do the right thing. But being with her is the right thing, how could it be anything else when it feels so right? I don't want to waste a second more.
It's cl
ose to midnight when the last of the guests trail off to bed. Dana looks sleepy, but I'd sweep her off her feet in a minute. So much for being a gentleman. I want her now just as much as I always do.
But I force myself out to the reception rather than going over to her, and I scribble a note for them to take up to her room asking her to meet me in the lobby the next day. One way or another I want to settle this. One kiss was never going to be enough for me and now I need to show her that I'm in it for the long haul.
When I glance back into the dining room she's watching me, but she glances away quickly, heat rising gorgeously along her pale cheeks. I know I need to give her time and that's exactly what I'm going to do.
When she does look back, I hold my hand up in a static wave and give her the slightest nod. Tomorrow our time together can properly begin. I reckon I can control myself for one more night.
Dana
When Beppe leaves, I sit in the empty dining room for the longest time. All evening I've had the memory of his lips on mine haunting me. I can't believe he truly wants me the same way I've wanted him all this time, but having all my dreams come true is better than I ever expected.
I don't want to be away from him for another moment, but what if he thinks I'm immature, too eager to go after him right now. We have a whole four days ahead of us, unless Beppe has other work commitments he hasn't let me know about. At the very least, I hope he'll have the weekend. But what if he doesn't. What if he lets this all fade into the background and all I ever get is one kiss, that would never be enough for me.
I let out a groan and force myself to my feet, hurrying after him before it's too late.
He's at the base of the last sweep of stairs before his apartment when I finally catch up with him. Embarrassingly, I'm out of breath when I call out to him.
Claimed By Dad's Italian Best Friend: An Instalove Possessive Alpha Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 173) Page 2
