by Alexx Andria
“Tonight we are making fresh pasta with clams and sausage,” the instructor said in English as he addressed the group. Appreciative murmurs rippled through the group and my stomach actually growled. “You’ll find the pasta dough prepared at your station. Please remove the wrapping and prepare to make the linguine.”
I smothered a laugh as Dante tried to feed the dough into the pasta maker, cranking the wheel with an intense expression, as if he were determined to make the utmost perfect example of linguine ever created. Flutters erupted up in my belly even as I tried to smother the electricity that snapped and sparked between us.
His hands, so strong and sure, were gentle enough with the dough to keep the strands from snapping in two. I struggled to keep my thoughts on the food when all I could focus on was how those big hands had twisted me inside and out with pleasure. My flushed cheeks gave me away just in time for Dante to catch my gaze. He knew where my thoughts had wandered and his gaze heated. Our attraction to one another was a torch that burned between us and it was difficult to squelch.
Even when we were surrounded by strangers and preparing dinner. The simmer in his eyes reflected my own.
“Are we going to make it to the clams?” he asked in a low tone. In response, my tongue darted along my lower lip, my heart rate kicking up a notch. I didn’t want clams or linguine. God, I wanted Dante, splayed out, cock hard and ready to ride, but I managed to drag my gaze away and busy myself with preparing the sausage. He chuckled and teased, “If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to be the main course.”
My breath hitched and I fought a delighted smile as I said, “Careful, your dough needs tending.”
The low rumble of his laughter tickled my soul.
And other parts, too.
This game was becoming very dangerous.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dante
WHOSE BRIGHT IDEA had it been to do a cooking class? Oh yeah, mine. I thought I was being so clever when in fact, it’d been stupid. I should’ve just ordered room service so we could eat naked and then get back to worshipping each other’s bodies. Because, let’s be honest, neither one of us could care less about whatever the chef was teaching.
All she had to do was say the word and I’d take off with her, but the stubborn woman was determined to let this asinine idea of mine play out. She knew I was dying, that my cock was practically bursting through my trousers, and yet she danced out of reach with only a coy smile.
My gaze drifted to that fantastic behind—an ass that could make a grown man cry—and I choked down a groan and tried to focus. My hands had become impatient and my interest level had definitely waned now that I knew Alessandra wanted to leave as much as I did, but her pride wouldn’t let her give in.
She was ten times any woman I’d ever spent time with and I was out of my depth. I craved the mystery and challenge Alessandra presented unlike any I’d ever known.
We finally finished and carried our plates to the lighted patio, where there was an excellent view of Siena as it quieted down for the night. The cobblestone streets were something out of a fairy tale, and the faint sounds of music somewhere filtered in on the wind. It was so fucking charming that I couldn’t have planned it better. Yet all of that could’ve faded away and I still would’ve been entranced by Alessandra.
Her long dark hair begged for my hand, and those lips I wanted to ravish as I watched her carefully wind her pasta and savor the meal. Everything she did was flavored with an exotic sensuality that made other women seem basic. I roused myself from the spell weaving itself around us and forced light conversation for the sake of making it through dinner.
“Not bad, eh?” I said, fishing for a compliment without shame. “If business doesn’t work out, I might look into opening a restaurant. Of course, my menu would only consist of one dish. Hopefully, no one minds eating clams and sausage every time they visit.”
She laughed at my silly joke and I smiled, happy to be there with her. For a brief moment it was easy to forget that I had a mission and it involved taking her winery from her.
I pushed the thought away. “How was work?” I asked, playing the dutiful date with a benignly thoughtful expression. “Anything exciting happen today?”
Alessandra deliberately placed a bite in her mouth, chewing slowly and swallowing before she answered. “I don’t talk business outside of the office.” Then she graced me with a slow, closed-mouth smile that did weird things to my insides. God, she was mesmerizing, even when she was shutting me down.
“Fine. Shall we talk about how I can’t wait to rip those clothes off your body and turn you inside out with my tongue?”
Aside from the slight hitch in her breath, she revealed nothing. Her self-control was legendary. I was used to women trembling, practically wetting themselves to be in my bed.
Not Alessandra.
“Tell me about your life in the States,” she countered. “Tell me about the real Dante Donato.”
“What you see is what you get,” I said, making a grand gesture, but she wasn’t buying it. I chuckled, murmuring, “Tough crowd. All right, what do you want to know?”
“Just as I said...the real you. I want to know who Dante is when he’s not putting on a show for everyone.”
“What makes you think I’m putting on a show?”
“Something in your eyes. You’re always thinking one step ahead, always trying to stay in front of whoever is behind you. I suspect it comes from always feeling passed over by your father. Am I wrong?”
I sat stunned. Alessandra was not only hot as hell but dangerous. She saw way more than I wanted her to, which could seriously screw up my game. The crazy part was, I wanted to answer. I leaned back in my chair, regarding Alessandra for a moment, trying to decide which route to go.
“See?” She pointed out, folding her napkin neatly onto her lap. “You’re doing it now. Instead of answering from your heart, you are searching for the most strategic answer, the one that gives you an advantage. I can’t imagine living life in this way. Seems exhausting.”
“Who is the real Alessandra?” I fired back, not quite ready to bare my soul. “Who is Alessandra aside from the dutiful daughter who carries the weight of an entire legacy on her back with no help from her own father against the patriarchal bent of the established wine industry?”
Almost leisurely, she said, “I asked you first.”
She wasn’t going to give an inch and that aroused me even more. I took a measured sip of my wine before answering. “I’m a businessman, ruthless and calculated. I do what needs to be done when others hesitate.”
“That’s your father’s influence. Who are you without the voice of your father pushing you to achieve more than anyone else?”
All pithy answers aside, I didn’t know who I was without the drive to succeed, but I didn’t think I wanted to know. “Does it matter? It’s who I am now, and I like who I am.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
Our gazes locked for a moment. Why was she giving me the third degree? Was there something I was giving off that spoke to a vulnerable vibe? God, I hoped not, but the fact that Alessandra didn’t shrink away from poking the bear only heightened my interest. Finally, she reached for her wine and said, “You asked who the real Alessandra is...” She paused as the heat built between us, the people around us fading from our view. Then, she leaned forward with, “I’m the same as you—driven, ambitious, ruthless.” She sipped her wine and added with a slow smile, “And I like who I am, too.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alessandra
I SHOULD’VE LEFT after dinner. My internal voice of reason cautioned, don’t go home with him, and yet, that was exactly what happened.
And I wasn’t sorry one bit.
I gasped as Dante nibbled my earlobe, whispering terribly dirty things—things that would make the good Catholic
girl in me blush but thrilled the naughty adult—and I lost all control of my will and determination to stay in the power seat. There was something so overwhelming about Dante that stole my breath and blotted out reasonable thought, but I was hooked on whatever he was dishing out.
God, I was so hooked.
“You like that, sweetheart?” he murmured with a seductive growl that tickled my insides as he slipped a finger inside me, easing past my dewed lips to find the swollen nub hidden inside. I answered his rhetorical question with a low moan. He found my mouth even as his fingers gently coaxed and teased my clit before moving to strum my G-spot. His fingers were like magic. My hips rose, begging for more, but he kept me at the edge, his tongue playing with mine, all the while creating a symphony of sensation with only his fingers.
My climax danced out of reach as he slowed his tempo. He knew how close I teetered to the edge and yet he pulled back, a wicked grin curving his lips. “Not so fast, sassy one,” he admonished, taking pause from my lips to suck a puckered nipple into his greedy mouth. I arched on a gasp as my womb pulsed and my heart rate jumped, my head bobbing from side to side as I mewled. My grasping fingers threaded through his hair and held him tight to my breast until I thought I might die from pleasure.
“Fuck me, Dante,” I begged, too bound with need to care how I sounded. I would’ve crawled on hands and knees to be granted my release but he wasn’t ready to give in so easily. He was going to make me work for it. He made his way down my belly, pressing tiny, lingering kisses down to my pubic mound. Settling between my thighs, he parted my damp lips before burying his face there, his tongue seeking and finding that swollen bit of tissue that when touched right would make me do anything without shame. His fingers returned even as his tongue teased and sucked, and if he hadn’t been holding my hips in place, I would’ve bucked from the bed. “Dante!” I groaned with an edge of desperate impatience, so hungry for that promised pleasure. “Please!”
But his muffled laugh was further proof that he planned to torture me. Perhaps it was payback for not giving an inch at dinner, maybe it was simply his favorite game, but either way, when he slowed at the crucial moment, when he knew I was seconds away from tumbling into the abyss, I cried out with frustration. “Finish me,” I demanded, my fingers curling in his hair, yanking hard.
His knowing laughter was the sexiest sound I’d ever heard. “My name on your lips,” he said with a wicked grin, “sounds about perfect.”
Sweat dampened my brow, my chest rising and falling as I practically begged. “Dante... I’ll say whatever you want...just let me come!”
“Say pretty please.”
I licked my lips. “Pretty please.”
“That’s my girl.”
My private heart thrilled at the small endearment even as I knew it shouldn’t, because it meant nothing. I didn’t want it to mean anything but I was wet and desperate to lose myself in the shuddering waves of pleasure I knew he could give me, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.
“I knew from the first time I laid eyes on you, I would learn how you taste, how you feel, how you climax so sweetly, but do you know what I couldn’t have known?” Dante dragged his mouth across the sensitive bare skin of my pubic mound, sending a riot of goose bumps jumping to the forefront. “I couldn’t have known how quickly I would come to crave all of those things.”
I swallowed and closed my eyes, unable to speak, for he had returned to my clit, sucking and nipping, swirling his tongue in clever motions as his fingers strummed my G-spot, pushing me without mercy to that edge.
I couldn’t hold back another moment. Each agonizing second without release felt like an eternity. “Please, please...oh God, yes, Dante,” I babbled, my breath hitching in my throat just as every muscle spasmed in a beautiful concert, nerve endings rapidly firing, leaving me breathless as I rode the wave crashing over me, drowning me in orgasmic splendor until I was left a weakened kitten, too spent to move, much less speak.
He climbed my body and kissed me deep. I tasted myself on his tongue, and it kicked my arousal back into gear even as I lay there stunned. “I love making you come,” he confessed. “I’ve never been with a woman who loses herself so completely.”
I smiled with exhausted amusement. “Yeah? Well, you’re pretty good with your hands and tongue. Plenty of practice, I’m sure.”
He shrugged, saying, “I never kiss and tell.”
“Oh, a true gentleman?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said, chuckling as he gently rubbed the firm head of his cock against my soft, damp slit. My breath hitched a little as he grazed the achingly sensitive skin of my clitoris, still pulsing like a dying star in its final moment. “But pleasuring you has become my favorite activity.”
“Lucky for you—” I sucked in a tight breath when he applied more pressure in just the right spot, catching a moan seconds before it popped from my lips “—I haven’t bored of your attentions yet.”
“Lucky indeed,” Dante agreed, though his eyes sparked with wicked promise. I bit my lip, knowing that I would pay deliciously for that sass, and it was the anticipation that left me trembling. Rising above me, he opened my legs and slid between them, my legs going over his shoulders as he bent me with the pressure of his body against mine. I was bared and vulnerable, my pussy eager and ready to feel his length splitting me apart. “If you can walk by tomorrow morning... I’ll have failed to leave an accurate impression of myself.”
I didn’t have time to laugh or tease before he pushed himself deep inside, impaling me fully. I groaned, quickly losing myself to the pleasure of being beneath him, completely under his control. I willfully succumbed to the all-encompassing sensation of being driven toward that edge without a finger on the wheel. It was raw and powerful, totally outside of my comfort zone and intoxicating.
Santa Maria, it was, dare I say, addicting.
And I wasn’t ready to give it up.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Dante
THE NIGHT WAS QUIET. We were both exhausted, lying in each other’s arms, listening to the evening sounds from the open window, content to be naked and still, sweat drying on our bodies.
I’d never known such bliss.
For the first time in my life, I felt a sense of peace. Usually after sex, I was eager to send the woman on her way. Having another person in my space after they’d already served their purpose ruined it for me.
Not with Alessandra. Her body in my arms felt as natural as an extension of myself. Her scent on my body smelled like heaven.
Better than freshly baked beignets.
I wasn’t going to allow anything to ruin this moment. There was plenty of time for that later. I wasn’t going to delude myself into thinking this was anything more than two sexually aligned people doing what they did best, but I did feel there was something between us that, in another life, might’ve been something worth pursuing for real.
“Tell me about Enzo,” I said, tracing light figures on her skin with my fingertip. “What was it like having a twin?”
She drew a deep breath as if speaking about her brother, even after all this time, was still painful. “Having a twin is like looking at a living, breathing extension of yourself. You cannot explain the connection to someone who hasn’t experienced it. When he died, I felt it in my soul.”
“What happened?”
“A car accident. He was pinned in the car. They worked to free him for fifteen minutes before they realized the steering wheel buried in his abdomen was keeping him alive. His internal injuries were so severe that the pressure was keeping his organs in place. The minute they freed him, he died.”
Dante felt her pain as if it were his own. As if he’d been gut-punched. “That’s awful,” he murmured, holding her a little more tightly. “I’m sorry.” Even though he and his brothers weren’t close, he couldn’t imagine losing one.
“My nonna said
, ‘Heaven must’ve needed its angel back because nothing would’ve kept Enzo from going home,’ but that had only made me angry at God for a long time. He took my brother from me when I needed him here.”
“What do you believe now?” he asked.
“I believe that bad things happen to good people and the only way to make some kind of sense of those things is to make sure they didn’t die in vain. Enzo loved the wine business, far more than I ever did. He had a passion for the grapes that I had never understood until he was gone. I wish he were here to see his dream finally come true.”
That tiny slip of information pricked my interest. “What dream was that?”
But she was done sharing that much personal information. “What about you? Are you truly happy chasing your father’s dreams? What about your own? Surely, there is something you want that has nothing to do with the errands your father sets you on.”
I laughed but inside I was asking the same question. I’d spent my entire life trying to please my father but always came up short. Frankly, I was tired of fighting the same losing battle, but as much as I wanted to wash my hands of his expectations, I couldn’t quite manage to do it.
My own private shame, I guess. The need for my father’s approval was my inherent weakness.
“I love what I do,” I answered, not ready to go there. Donato Inc. wasn’t just a company, it was an empire. We owned all kinds of business, from magazines to wineries, and we were constantly looking for our next big investment. Being at the helm of that was riveting. “I admire my father’s tenacity and willingness to make the hard choices for the good of the company.”
“You put a lot of importance on the bottom line, but people make up the balance of your company’s worth.”
I chuckled at her naive statement. “Sweetheart, as much as I enjoy your earthy sense of capitalism, what matters is what ends up in the bank at the end of the day. People are replaceable.”
