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 TWELVEVittorio 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 had a code he lived by and he wouldn’t break it because he wasn’t happy.
Now there was Grace. An unexpected gift. She was far more than he’d ever fantasized or dreamt about. She was courageous and beautiful. Intelligent and no pushover. He wanted a woman who could stimulate him intellectually. One who would run his home and see to those details. He also wanted a woman willing to follow him and, in their home, give over control to him. He had thought such a woman probably didn’t exist.
“Before we take our relationship any further, Grace, I’d like to clarify a few things. I don’t want you to think I’m just controlling things in my household because I can. There are things that I’ve come to know I need in order to function. This isn’t about me imposing my will on you. It’s about me living in an environment I can handle, do my work and survive intact.”
Just revealing that much could get him in trouble. He rubbed at the faint shadowing along his jaw. No matter how often he shaved, it was always there. Her gaze followed the motion of his fingers, but she took another bite of her tostada. He didn’t want her to question him too much about his work, but like most people, she bought into the fact that the family owned many businesses and those businesses had to be overseen.
The fact was—he was virtually an assassin. Riders meted out justice, but at the end of the day, they were still sent out to kill—and they did. The safeguards were in place, several of them, to ensure no mistakes were made but, even knowing whomever they were sent after had committed horrendous crimes and gotten away with it, they had to live with the fact that they killed. Over and over. They had to be apart from the rest of the world. They had to live a lie.