Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire

But this wasn’t the short, light kiss they’d shared the night she was referring to. Vito unleashed all the desire and passion he’d been feeling for her.

She tasted of strawberries and sweet cream. She felt like redemption.

When they finally managed to pull apart, he almost couldn’t bear the separation. Her lips were swollen from his kiss, her eyes cloudy with desire. He reached for her again as she spoke.

“I have another confession.”

“Yes, cara?”

“I’d like more than a kiss, Vito. Much more.”

A ball of fire rocketed through his entire body. There was no way he could deny her. Or himself. Though he knew this was oh, so wrong of him. What he was doing was beyond selfish. Perhaps the most selfish thing he’d ever done. Warning bells rang in his head about taking the next step.

He ignored them and lifted Maya in his arms. She felt right in his embrace. Like she belonged there. She belonged with him. He leaned down to give her another long lingering kiss that stole the breath from them both.

Then he carried her upstairs.

* * *

Maya didn’t have to open her eyes to know that Vito had left the bed. She’d felt his absence, the loss of the warmth of his body next to hers. Her muscles felt languid, spent. In a very good way. She longed to reach for him again, to have him touch and caress her the way he had most of the afternoon.

Where had he gone?

Forcing herself to sit up, she grabbed the sleeveless shirt he’d been wearing when she’d walked in. Her cheeks flushed when she remembered how she’d practically torn it off him earlier. The way his taut skin had felt under her fingers when she’d finally rid him of it. Throwing the shirt on now, she walked out of the bedroom into the kitchen area.

She found Vito at the stove, tossing some pasta into a pot of boiling water. He was shirtless, wearing only a loose pair of gray sweats that shouldn’t have been appealing in the least, but somehow made her fingers itch to touch him.

She wasn’t going to fight the urge.

“I thought you might be hungry. I certainly am.” He didn’t turn around as he said the words. Maya walked up behind him and wound her arms around his waist. His spine straightened ever so slightly; the muscles of his stomach and back stiffened under her touch.

Maybe it was simply her imagination. But a nagging voice began sounding in her brain. Then it turned into a loud, ringing alarm. Something was off. Maya released her arms and stepped back.

“I don’t have much to offer for food,” he threw over his shoulder. “Just some packaged pasta. But there’s homemade marinara sauce that Nonna sent back with me after my visit.”

Me. My.

Vito may not have even been aware, but he was using singular terms. Nonna had presented that jar of sauce to both of them when they’d left her home.

It was as if he was mentally erasing her presence in his conversation. Maya’s pulse was racing by the time the pasta was done and they were sitting across from each other at the small circular table.

Suddenly, she didn’t have much of an appetite.

Vito began piercing the pasta with his fork, so far avoiding all eye contact. Maya knew she wasn’t imagining things. She didn’t think she could take it if Vito regretted what had just happened between them.

Only one way to find out.

She waited for him to swallow his latest bite. “We need to talk about what just happened between us, Vito.”

He didn’t bother to stop eating. “I’m not so sure that we do.”

“How can you say that?”

“The fact of the matter is that you’ll be gone after tomorrow, cara. Anything we say to each other will only be empty words. In a few days, we’ll be both be back to our normal lives.”

He sounded so casual, so nonchalant. Maya wanted to literally cover her ears. But she had to try and get through to him. Or she’d never forgive herself. “I’ll be in Europe until the end of the month, Vito. That’s a good amount of time.”

“To do what?”

What kind of a question was that? She blinked up at him. Was he being deliberately obtuse? “To spend more time together. To try and figure out what we might mean to each other.”

“I told you. I have no intention of traveling.”