The Italian - Page 12

“Maybe fruit?” I lie, testing the water. I’m so not getting fruit but I’ll ease into the conversation with that.

He frowns as he reads. “You should eat something hearty. It will make you feel better.”

“Okay.” Well, that plan worked fabulously. “If you insist.” I look over the choices. “What are you having?”

“Granola and fruit.”

“You know, I make a wonderful granola,” I say proudly. “I roast it myself.” I don’t make much, but I do make that.

“Do you?” He raises his brow. “Well, I hope that one day you will make it for me.”

I shrug casually, as if super-hot guys ask for my granola every day. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He chuckles, and his eyes linger on my face. Nerves dance in my stomach under his gaze. I’ve never spent time with a man who’s this good looking before. Enrico simply oozes sex appeal, and it’s not missionary style sex appeal, either. I’m talking bone-shattering, wet with perspiration, fuck you into oblivion kind of sex. The stuff you see on cable a

nd think about for weeks.

“Can I take your order?” the waiter asks.

Rico gestures to me. Such a gentleman. “I will have the avocado and eggs, please.” I frown because I want something sweet, too.

The waiter looks to Rico. “And you, sir?”

“She’s not finished,” he mutters, unimpressed with the waiter dismissing me.

“Oh, apologies.” The waiter turns back to me. “Will that be all?”

I’m flustered that they’re both watching me. “I was just going to get something sweet, but it doesn’t matter.”

“Get the…” Rico quickly scans the menu. “The Maritozzo.”

I shrug. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“I’ll have the granola with a bowl of fruit on the side.” He folds the menus and gives them back to the waiter, and we watch as he disappears out of sight.

Rico sits back and rubs his pointer over his lips as he watches me. It’s as if he’s assessing me.

“What?” I smile.

“Nothing.” He sips his water. “Just admiring the scenery.”

I feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment, and I really want to ask him what he was imagining last night when he was pulling his dick. Of course, I won’t.

“Do you come here often?” I ask.

“First time. My apartment is on the other side of town. Old Rome.”

“It’s a beautiful city, isn’t it?”

“I love it here.”

“Do you live alone?”

“I do now. My brother Andrea and I used to live together but we haven’t for five or six years. He lives near the hospital now.”

“You have just the one brother?”

“No, I have another brother, Matteo. He lives in France at the moment. He’s a scientist and is working with a pharmaceutical company doing research.”

Tags: T.L. Swan Romance
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