“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.