He nodded, running his hand along the wooden beams, marveling at how well they’d stood the test of time. “When was the last time someone lived here?”
“Well, actually, about one hundred years ago from what I understand. My father said his great-grandfather had preferred this wing and made it his personal space.” I smiled, enjoying Dante’s appreciation for the old wing. Some people might see nothing but a falling-down wreck but Dante saw what I had as a child, the charm of a bygone era. “My father had forbidden us from going into the north wing but, of course, Enzo and I took that as an invitation to explore. We spent many hours down here. It became our own private place. We cleaned it out as best we could and made it our little hideaway.”
A layer of dust blanketed everything but you could see that modern children had once inhabited this space.
The old sofa we’d managed to pay some of the workers to carry down here, a table, some chairs, but there were no light fixtures or present-day conveniences. I smiled at the gas lantern still on the table. “Although, as much as we loved our space, we never spent much time down here at night. It’s a little spooky in the dark.”
Dante nodded with complete understanding. “This place is probably haunted as hell. Ever see a ghost?”
“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked, amused. “You don’t seem the type.”
“Well, I’m a humble enough man to admit that there are probably things in this world that I can’t exactly explain and I’m willing to leave them be if they do the same.”
I laughed at the idea of Dante exhibiting humility. “Humble and Dante Donato seem incongruous.”
He shrugged. “Hey, I like to err on the side of caution.” His smile widened. “You didn’t answer my question...see any ghosts?”
Only one.
My smile faded a little. “My brother.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, contrite. “I didn’t mean to bring up sad memories.”
“It’s okay, it was but a brief moment, a flash and he was gone. I think he was saying goodbye in his own way.”
“You weren’t scared?”
“I could never fear my brother. He was part of me.”
Dante nodded and folded me into his arms. I melted against his chest, inhaling the sharp spice of his masculine scent, and breathed deep. I would never tire of that smell. Dante’s particular odor was something that turned a lock deep inside me, releasing something that I couldn’t put my finger on but recognized as powerful.
His soft lips brushed against mine with a tender touch even as his strong knuckles gently caressed my cheek. Our tongues slid against one another as our bodies craved the heat only we could create.
In that moment, I wasn’t the head of Castello di Baroni, shouldering the burden of an entire legacy, but rather just a woman needing the firm touch of a man who knew how to stoke the fire capable of burning me to ash.
“Dante,” I whispered against his lips, gasping as his hands roamed my body, anchoring on my hips to draw me close. “I need you...”
I needed to feel him inside me, moving with me, pushing me to that ultimate release that I craved so deeply.
Dante obliged without so much as a blink, sweeping me off my feet and carrying me to the ages-old sofa, setting me down gently. I helped him shimmy my pants from my hips and toss them to the floor as I quickly ripped my blouse off to join them. In panties and a bra, I relished the smoldering heat in Dante’s gaze as he devoured me from head to toe. When he looked at me like that, I was the only woman in the world. I shivered from the intensity, goose bumps rioting along my exposed skin, inviting his lips to follow.
Dante placed one leg over his shoulder as he nuzzled the damp heat shielded by the tiny scrap of lace, inhaling my scent as he groaned with pleasure. “I can’t get enough of you,” he admitted with a husky growl that I felt in my belly. I gasped as he teased me through the thin fabric, dancing around my pussy lips, tantalizing my clit with just enough friction to make me squirm without actually applying enough pressure to bring me to a shuddering end.
Oh God. Hands down, Dante was the most talented lover I’d ever entertained in my bed but we were evenly matched. As he continued to tease me, I made a vow to make him squirm when I had him in my mouth. I gripped his hair and pushed his head toward me with an urgent, “Stop fucking around, damn it!” and he chuckled at my frustration because he was doing it purposefully.
“Just remember,” I reminded him with a sultry smile even as I groaned, “you will pay when it’s my turn.”
“I’m counting on it,” he replied with his signature charm, but then he inched my panties down my hips and feasted like a man dying of hunger until I was left drenched, tumbling into multiple orgasms until I was weak as a kitten.
Dante kissed me hard, swirling his tongue against mine, tasting me as I tasted him, and my desire climbed once again, seeking his touch, the feel of his cock stretching me to impossible lengths until I sobbed with pleasure.
He pushed his length inside me, his hips flexing, his large hands capturing mine above my head, holding me captive as he drove himself deep. He filled me completely, so perfectly. I never believed in such nonsense until Dante. Our bodies were made for one another. A key and lock. A song of decadent pleasure rang out in my bones as he emptied himself into me, both of us shuddering with completion.
The oppressive heat from the room coated our lungs and sent rivulets of sweat rolling down our bodies. Dante climbed off me as he slowly stretched, his semiflaccid cock still oozing droplets of fluid. I rose and pulled him toward me, my hands bracketing his hips as I gently lapped at the salty drops. Dante sucked in a wild breath, his fingers threading through my hair as I tended to his cock, licking and tenderly sucking him dry, until he was thoroughly spent and nearly buckling.
“Fuckkkk,” he groaned under his breath as I finished. “You’re going to be the death of me but I don’t mind.” Dante flopped onto the sofa beside me, sending a cloud of dust swirling into the still air. He dispersed the cloud with a heavy wave of his hand as I laughed weakly. “We need to equip this place with some amenities...like a well-stocked fridge with ice-cold water or beer. A fan would be nice, too.”
“You aren’t staying long enough to make this our own private booty-call break room,” I said, reminding him that our time was finite. “Otherwise, your idea has merit.”
He swiveled his head to regard me with something I couldn’t quite define. “Maybe I’m ready for a change of scenery. Italy has grown on me.”
I ignored the little flutter in my belly at his reply. I wasn’t going to buy into that. Dante was a player and I knew the game. I probably shouldn’t have brought him here, but I was in no danger of giving him more than I meant to. “Don’t flatter yourself. You bore too easily. You, my handsome American stud, are a bad investment, no matter how well you can fuck.”
To his credit, he didn’t try to refute my statement but even as I knew I should dress and go back to work, I didn’t want to leave just yet. It could be that he looked like a god lounging, cock out, sweat glistening, muscles hard, and I wasn’t ready to put all that behind me to face a scowling Como and a mountain of work that pressed for my attention.
At least with Dante, all he wanted was my body.
And my body fairly purred at his touch.
Hell, all he had to do was look in my direction and I was wet.
“Seeing as your business in Italy is concluded, when do you plan to return to the States?”
He shrugged. “My schedule is flexible. For now, I’m enjoying playing tourist.”
I laughed. “Yes, are you still planning to take the walking tour of Siena?”
“I don’t know. What does your schedule look like?”
His persistence was admirable. “I told you I wasn’t free to traipse about the city with you. You are the tourist, not me.”
“Be honest, wouldn’t y
ou rather spend an afternoon playing tourist with me than stuck in the office on a beautiful fall day with that stick-in-the-mud assistant?”
He had a point. I would rather do anything with Dante, even take another silly cooking class, if it meant escaping the condemning looks from Como. I really needed to address that issue but with Uva Persa’s launch so soon, I couldn’t take the risk of Como doing anything out of spite that might wreck the debut. “What about you?” I asked, turning the focus around. “What are you avoiding back home? Surely, you have responsibilities that await your return.”
He exhaled a heavy sigh and shoved a hand through his damp hair, leaving behind a rakish, rugged look that made me want to eat him all over again. “Paperwork. Meetings. Dull market-share negotiations. Honestly, nothing my brother Luca can’t handle on his own.”
“So why do you stay in your job?” I asked, curious.
“Because it’s my family’s business and we have a reputation to uphold. The Donato name means something where I come from.”
I understood that pressure. Living up to the Baroni name was my own personal burden. “Are you happy?”