“So, who do you tell that you love them in Italian?” he asks, feigning innocence as he plays with the pepper pot.
Err…what? He was listening…and furthermore, he understood me?
Laughing at my expression, he explains his rudimentary Italian.
Fuck! I desperately think back to if I said anything he shouldn’t have overheard.
“He’s my…mentor,” I state finally. All true, no lies so far.
“Ah, I see,” he says.
Changing the subject swiftly, I ask about his day and the general conversation shifts onto easier topics for the remainder of the meal.
I sense a strong connection to him that passes by the physical and intellectual and onto some base level and it has me intrigued. I think he feels it too, as he squeezes my hand while we wait for Grayson to pull the car around. I move subtly closer and look up at him, my gaze sweeping from his eyes to his mouth and back again. His eyes hood with desire.
Works every time.
“Thank you for dinner,” I murmur.
“It was my pleasure,” he murmurs back, gazing into my eyes. “I feel like we should have done this days ago.”
“I know what you mean,” I agree. I step even closer and place my hands on his chest. I tilt my head back. He pulls me to him, our lips locking together in a kiss so passionate it probably isn't allowed in public or shouldn’t be. My fingers move up into his hair, pulling his head further down. I shove my tongue deeper into his mouth, swirling my tongue around his. He tastes divine. My fangs are aching to drop and sink into his flesh. Abruptly, I pull back, calming the Vampire down.
Whoa, that was intense. It's been way too long since I fed on human blood, choosing to sustain myself with just Vampire blood out of some sense of morality. It’s been even longer since I fed on my favorite blood type, which even from here, I can smell running through Cole's veins.
Breathing heavily, he leans his forehead against mine with his eyes closed, his hands on my hips.
“Is it presumptuous to say I want you,” he whispers.
My knees go weak as I say, “Not at all. I want you too.” Knowing this could potentially be a disaster waiting to happen, I pull his mouth back to mine for a second kiss that leaves me aching for him.
Life's too short to not go after what you want, dammit. Well, actually, my life is long. Very, very long, but in an effort to convince myself, I grab onto all the old clichés. Carpe diem and all that. After all, they are clichés for a reason, right?
Coming up for air, I ask, “Will you come back to my place?”
“Yes,” he says, before he reclaims my mouth.
Grayson's subtle clearing of his throat pulls us apart. Patrons leaving the restaurant are staring open-mouthed and the paparazzi is having a field day trying to get the best shot around Grayson's massive size blocking their way. Laughing, we climb quickly into the back of the limo and our mouths find each other again. So much for a low profile.
I climb onto his lap, feeling his erection in full force. I reach down to touch him, but his hand stops me.
“No,” he whispers against my mouth.
I pull back like I've been struck. I want to roar in frustration. I glare at him questioningly.
“Not here, not like this,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I really like you,” he carries on, “and I feel like we might have something here?” It's a question requiring an answer before he continues, so I nod. He looks relieved. “I don't want our first time to be...”
“A fuck in the back of a limo?” I offer up with a raised eyebrow.
Startled at my crass choice of words, he then grins. "Exactly. Not how I would have phrased it, but yes.”
“Okay then.” I climb off his lap and sit chastely next to him with a small smile twitching at my lips.
“Okay then,” he says as well, taking my hand in his.
Christ, this is the longest drive home, ever. Why did I suggest a place in L.A.? Malibu has perfectly fine places to dine.
Sensing my impatience, he says, without looking at me, “Just think of the anticipation as foreplay.”