Chapter Five

I checked my watch as I paced in front of the Spanish Steps, or Piazza di Spagna. 4:58 PM. My heart pounded in unison with my steps. The butterflies in my stomach flapped their wings relentlessly. My skin flamed with the memory of Dante’s touch, aching to feel it again. Fidgeting with the hem of the one sundress I’d packed, I scanned all the people congregated in the area. I couldn’t even appreciate the beauty before me. I was on edge, antsy. I couldn’t remember being this anxious when I sat for the bar exam. But as I waited for Dante, the anticipation of what this evening would bring made every inch of me buzz with excitement.

Before I hopped on that plane what seemed like a lifetime ago now, I stayed away from the unknown. I’d never thrown caution to the wind and done something without having a plan. It wasn’t that I didn’t like being spontaneous. I simply never had the opportunity to do something crazy.

Not anymore.

I glanced at my watch again. 4:59 PM. Why did it seem like the seconds ticked by at such an excruciatingly slow pace? What if Dante had second thoughts? What if this whole thing was just a setup?

Instantly, I felt a warmth approach from behind, my body coming alive. A hand skimmed my exposed back, pushing my blonde hair over my shoulder.

“You came,” a deep, accented voice murmured. My breath quickened in response to the delicate way his hand grazed my skin. His touch was the most potent drug, and I’d do whatever was necessary to experience the bliss only his hands on my flesh could give me.

I spun around, my heart catching in my throat. There was something different about the way he looked at me today. Yesterday, his eyes were hungry, full of desire. Now it was more prominent. More ravenous. More…libidinous.

His gaze locking with mine, he grabbed my hand and, just as he did last night, raised it to his lips, feathering a soft kiss against my knuckles. But today, the kiss was more sensual, more arousing, more greedy.

“I hope to,” I murmured.

Straightening, he smirked. “You have quite the witty mouth, Eleanor.” He pressed his hand against my lower back. “I’m looking forward to seeing what else that mouth is capable of.” He buried his head in the crook of my neck, making my skin flame.

As I lay in bed last night, sleep hard to come by, I’d replayed the way his lips felt pressed against mine, the way his body moved so perfectly with mine, the way he didn’t seem to have a problem touching me in public. Dante seemed too good to be true, as if he was all my fantasies come to life.

“So,” I began as he peppered kisses down the line of my neck, my body quivering under his expert touch. “How does this work?”

He paused, his lips lingering on my skin, then pulled back. “What do you mean?”

“Should we go back to my hotel or…” I looked down, biting my lower lip. “This may come as a complete surprise,” I continued through a nervous laugh. “This is the first time I’ve propositioned a stranger to have sex with me, then never see him again. I’m not sure of the rules here.”

“And you think I’ve done this sort of thing before?” He lifted a brow.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Would you think any less of me if I had?”

“I am in no position to judge anyone else.”

“Very well.” He grabbed my hand, escorting me through the piazza. “We have a few things to discuss.”

“I told you. I don’t have any expectations, so why don’t we just get on with it already?” I worried I may lose my courage to follow through if we didn’t find a bedroom, and soon.

“I’d still prefer we go over a few things first.”

I pinched my lips together, giving him a look of irritation and annoyance.

“Don’t fret, Eleanor.” He stopped in his tracks and enclosed me in his muscular arms. “It’s to your advantage,” he murmured, his voice husky. “To make sure every single one of your cravings is satisfied. To make sure you feel things you never thought possible. To make sure you experience everything you’ve imagined.”

My eyes fluttered into the back of my head, my body eager for his touch on every inch of me. Even then, I doubted it would be enough. “If the whole chef thing doesn’t work out, you’d make a damn good gigolo.”

He laughed and stepped back, smiling a wicked smile. “Good to know. Shall we go talk over some tea?” He gestured toward a tea room a few feet in front of us.

Sighing, I reluctantly nodded, and Dante steered me toward the building. He opened the glass door and permitted me to enter ahead of him. I felt like I had just left the mystery and romance of Rome for nineteenth-century London. The tea room was decorated in traditional Victorian with a modern flair. Lace cloths covered the tables. Velvet tapestries draped the windows. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead.

“Signor Luciano,” one of the staff members said, rushing over to greet him, rattling off something in Italian.

“In inglese, per favore,” he interrupted, gesturing toward me.

“Si. Si.” The man looked at me, smiling, then back at Dante. “We didn’t know you’d be coming today,” he corrected with a heavy accent.

“I didn’t, either.”

“I believe someone’s already sitting at your favorite table.” He lowered his head, giving him an apologetic look.

“Va bene, Francesco. Do you have something a bit more secluded?”

“Si. Si. Yes, sir. This way, please.”

He led us past a dining area of small tables, through a doorway, and into a room with larger tables and plush velvet couches and chairs, the noise level much lower than the rest of the place. The walls were painted a turquoise color similar to that famous blue box from Tiffany’s. There were a few black-and-white prints in dark frames depicting well-known locations in London. Patrons sipped tea and enjoyed what appeared to be delicious cakes and cookies. It reminded me I hadn’t really eaten today. I doubted I’d be able to do so now with the nerves flowing through me.

The host led us to a round table in the corner and I slid onto the circular couch. Dante offered the man his thanks, then sat beside me. He surveyed me for several long moments, unnerving me. When I was about to open my mouth and argue that coming here was pointless, his voice cut through.

“So tell me, Eleanor…”

“Yes?” My voice was abnormally high-pitched, displaying my nerves.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

He leaned closer, peering at me with seductive eyes. “Why me?” he asked in the beautiful baritone I’d heard in my dreams. “Why do you want to do this?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek, pondering. There were so many reasons on the tip of my tongue. Did he want me to simply flame his ego and tell him how attracted I was to him, how I’d fantasized about what he would feel like between my legs?

Analyzing his confident demeanor, he didn’t strike me as the type of person who needed an ego boost, unlike Brock. Instead of making up some benign answer that would get us into a bedroom quicker, I opted for complete transparency.

“Do you know what it’s like having every second of your life dictated for you?” I tore my eyes from his, staring out the window at the fountain in front of the Spanish Steps, marveling at how different everything had become in just forty-eight hours. “Until I stepped onto that plane, my entire life had been planned out for me. I never had a choice in anything.”

“Anything?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Anything,” I emphasized, meeting his gaze once more. “From the clothes I wore, to what college I attended, to the color of my hair.” I lifted a lock, then pushed it over my shoulder. “I’m not really a blonde, but you would have figured that out eventually anyway. Or I hoped you would.” I looked off into the distance, fidgeting with my hands in my lap. “My parents had a certain image to uphold, so they made sure I obtained a degree of their choosing, then went to law school.”

“So you’re a lawyer,” he commented in a drawn-out voice, as if it made all the sense in the world.

“Why? Have some lawyer jokes you want to tell? I’ve probably heard them all at this point.”

“I would never degrade anyone’s profession like that. Are you unhappy with your career?”

My face lit up. “Actually, I loved law school. It wasn’t the path I would have chosen for myself, but I was good at it — the research, the analysis, the persuasive writing. It was the first time in my life I felt like I had some control. Sure, I had to take the classes all law students are required to take, like contracts and constitutional law, but I was able to choose electives that interested me.” My face fell. “After I passed the bar, my father got me a job at a huge firm, and I was stuck doing corporate law.”

“I’m guessing it’s not the area you wanted to go into.”

“Not even close. Don’t get me wrong,” I added quickly. “I love what I do. Is it my dream job? No, but I’m really good at it.” I toyed with the tines of the fork in front of me. “It’s the one area in my life I’ve ever had a say.”

Dante leaned back against the couch, studying me with intrigue, as if he were seeing me for the first time. “If it were up to you, what area of law would you want to practice?”

I released a breath, relaxing my shoulders. “Environmental.”

“That’s a commendable field. Why did your parents discourage it?”

I snorted out a laugh at how ridiculous his question was. Then again, he had no idea who my father was. “Let’s just say my father tends to believe global warming is a myth and we should bleed our resources dry by drilling everywhere.”

“I’m assuming you have a difference of opinion.”

I tapped my fingernails on the tablecloth. “I’m of the opinion that it’s important to know our nation’s history. There was a reason we enacted regulatory legislation, why we have agencies overseeing clean air, water.” I shook my head. “People think the planet will provide endless resources, but they don’t realize how much we’re destroying it every day.”

Just then, a petite dark-haired woman carrying a tray approached our table, interrupting our conversation. Offering us a smile, she placed a white tea pot and a few dishes with various cakes and cookies in front of us. I didn’t recall anyone ever coming to take our order. I assumed Dante simply had a standing order here.

Once we were alone, he grabbed the pot. “Tea?”

“Yes, please.”

He flipped over the cup in front of me and began to pour. “Milk or sugar?”

“No, thank you. I prefer my tea black.” I studied him as he poured tea into his own cup, adding just a bit of milk. “No sugar for you, either?” I brought my cup to my mouth, softly blowing on it.

“That’s correct, Eleanor. I prefer my tea as I do my women. Bold, assertive, with just a hint of natural sweetness.” He winked.

Something about his brazen attitude made me feel like a giddy teenager. Early in life, I was taught to always maintain my composure in front of other people. It was my level-headed and placid demeanor during negotiations that typically unnerved my opponent. I never displayed any emotion, never raised my voice, always remained calm. Making a name for myself in a profession that had been dominated by men for hundreds of years hadn’t been easy. I’d made it a point to be as reserved and thick-skinned as all my male colleagues. It was the only way to get ahead.

“Tell me why you left your ex-fiancé at the altar.” Dante’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I cleared my throat, then placed my cup down on the saucer in front of me. “It was more a relationship out of convenience than anything else. Our parents were friends.” I hesitated, unsure how much I should tell Dante about my family, whether he was familiar with American politics at all. “As I’m sure you can imagine, since my parents liked to have a say in every other part of my life, they also had a say in who I could date…and marry.” I gave him a knowing look. “I never questioned it, although I should have. I’d lived my entire life bending to their will. I didn’t think there was any other option but to do as they said. My mother made me dye my hair blonde before my first date with Brock, for crying out loud. She said he preferred blondes.”

“It sounds a bit archaic,” Dante commented, his leg brushing mine.

“It does, doesn’t it?” I said thoughtfully, then quickly added, “You have to understand, I didn’t grow up in a regular family.” I swirled my spoon around in my tea cup, needing to do something with my hands. “My father had a very public persona.”

Dante lifted a brow, obviously intrigued.

“I’d rather not say too much. It’s irrelevant to the point at hand. However, because of this, he was very concerned with how his family was perceived, right down to how we dressed, where we went, and who his daughter dated.”

“Were you at least attracted to your ex?”

I paused to consider his question, staring off into space. “I should have been at some point, shouldn’t I?” I returned my eyes to Dante’s. “I mean, how could I have allowed myself to be so manipulated as to agree to marry someone I didn’t even have feelings for? I guess I just didn’t know any differently. I remember hearing some of my college friends talking about the guys they were dating, how they’d buy them flowers, surprise them by standing outside their class when they got out. There was none of that with Brock. Hell, I was lucky if he remembered my birthday. I figured maybe it was because he was seven years older than me. We started dating when I was a freshman in college and he was finishing up his last year of law school.” I bit my lip.

“I remember talking to my mother about it one time when I questioned whether I should call things off with him. Naturally, she didn’t exactly support the idea. All she said was that people in love seemed to forget what was important in life.”

“And what would that be?”

My eyes locked with his. I opened my mouth, pausing briefly. “I wish I knew.”

“So you’ve never been romanced? Before fate intervened and our paths crossed…”

I shot him a fake look of annoyance.

“You’ve never felt the heat of a man’s eyes raking over every inch of you, making you squirm?” He lifted a brow.

“Brock never made me squirm,” I answered with obvious disdain.

Dante narrowed his gaze. “What do you mean by that?”

“What do you think I mean by that?” I shot back in a bold voice, giving him a knowing look.

He opened his mouth, his eyes widening as realization washed over him.

“Brock liked routine.” I looked forward, straightening my shoulders, fidgeting with the tea cup. “Throughout our relationship, we stuck to a preplanned schedule for when we’d have sex. Every Wednesday morning. He would set an alarm twenty minutes earlier than normal, roll on a condom, then get to it. No foreplay. No making sure I felt good. Nothing.”

“You’re joking.”

I raised my tea cup to my mouth. “I wish I were.”

Dante shook his head, releasing a long breath. If I were in his shoes, I’d probably have the same reaction.

“Brock never gave me an orgasm,” I blurted out before I could stop myself.

“You just mean during sex, correct?”

“No,” I answered, keeping my eyes trained on his. “I mean ever. Like I said, there was never any foreplay.”

“None at all?”

“None…at…all.”

He leaned closer, his voice becoming softer and more sensual. “How long were you together?”

“Ten long years.”

“Was he your first?” He rested his hand on my leg, his fingers slowly grazing the skin around my knee.

“Yes.” I inhaled a sharp breath from the feeling of his hand on my flesh.

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

“Of course I have!” I insisted. “Just not at anyone else’s hand…other than my own,” I mumbled.

“What would make you stay with someone like that?” A hint of curiosity crossed his brow.

“I didn’t know any other way.” I knew it made no sense that someone who exuded the image of being put-together and secure, like I did, would put up with everything I had for so long. In truth, it never really bothered me…until recently. It was just part of my life. I had practically no say over my personal life, so I focused on things I did have control over, like my job. I had found happiness there. “I thought it was normal, thought all the stories my friends told me about their experiences were embellished.”

“There is nothing normal about being with someone so selfish as to not make sure you were taken care of.” He scooted closer, his hand roaming my leg. “A relationship is supposed to be mutually beneficial for both parties.” His breath was hot on my skin as his lips drew closer to my neck. A heat burned in my stomach, the feel of Dante’s hand on my leg making my need for him grow with each passing second. “It’s supposed to involve some give, some take.” He lifted the skirt of my dress, his hand inching farther north.

When he slid back my panties and began to tease my clit, I gasped. I shot my eyes to him, my breath hitching. “What are you—”

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, his breath warming me. “I plan to make sure you’re finally taken care of, Eleanor.”

“But we’re in public,” I said in a throaty voice, making no move to stop what he was doing. I couldn’t remember ever being so aroused. My entire body ignited as his fingers ran my wetness over me, teasing me with his light touch. I discreetly spread my legs slightly, giving him better access. I had completely tuned out everything else around us — the clatter of china, the low conversation, the faint music. For all I knew, we were in our own private room and this was just the start of something incredible. If the way his fingers touched me with such cunning and deftness was any indication, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen when we took this even further.

“God, Eleanor,” he groaned. His husky voice sent a tremor down my spine. “Do you have any idea how amazing you feel? Do I make you this wet?”

I closed my eyes, his words flaming a need I didn’t know I had. Brock had never so much as uttered a single word to me during sex. Dante was barely touching me, but the sensation of his fingers gliding over my center made me feel more fulfilled than I had during any previous act of intimacy. My mind was blank, too many different sensations rolling through me at once — pleasure, bliss, hunger, arousal, serenity…happiness.

“Answer me, Eleanor,” Dante demanded. “Do I do this to you?”

“Yes,” I whimpered, my chest rising and falling in a faster rhythm. I’d never felt so alive before. I knew this was so very wrong, but the electricity flowing through every inch of me made me not care.

“Good.”

When he pushed a finger inside, I had to bite back a moan.

“You are so tight, Eleanor. I can’t wait to feel you pulsing around my cock when I finally give you exactly what you need.” He brushed his lips against my neck. “What you’ve been deprived of for too many years now. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” I exhaled, pulsing against his hand. My body was climbing higher and higher. I could almost see my release in sight. This all seemed like a dream…an incredible, erotic dream.

“Me, too, Eleanor. God, I want that so bad.” He paused. “But not right now.” He abruptly pulled his hand away.

I gaped at him, panting, disbelief filling my wide eyes. I was seconds away from crumbling into pieces and couldn’t believe he was going to leave me this wound up. “Wha—”

“I want to hear you moaning my name when you come,” he said very matter-of-factly, as if this were a business negotiation. He scooted away, lifting his tea cup to his mouth, taking a sip. “I want you to let go of all your preconceived notions of what sex is supposed to be like. I want you to let yourself be completely free with me. You said you had no expectations. Well, I do. I want to give you your wings. I don’t want you to think sex is a taboo subject. It isn’t. It’s natural. It’s beautiful. It’s pure. You’re not free to fully express yourself here.”

I blinked repeatedly, clenching my legs together to get some sort of relief from the pressure still building inside me. “So you’re just going to leave me like this?”

“Hopefully not for too long.” He winked. “Now, tell me. What are your likes? Dislikes?”

I avoided his eyes, my cheeks flushing a brighter shade of red than they already were as I squirmed in the booth.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. If you’re serious about this, I’d prefer to know what you like. What turns you on?”

“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

“Surely you must have some sort of idea as to what makes you feel good.”

I opened my mouth, unsure of what to say. At twenty-eight, I was more than aware that I was rather inexperienced when it came to this kind of thing.

When I remained silent, he pushed. “When I was just fingering you, what did you enjoy about it?”

He sliced his fork into one of the decadent cakes and brought it to his mouth, acting as cool and collected as he always had, as if we were talking about something as mundane as the weather.

“I don’t want you to be embarrassed, Eleanor,” he comforted me. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did it feel good when I had my hand up your skirt?” He placed his fork on the table, then brushed his fingers against my leg. It was such a subtle gesture, but my entire body became desperate with need. I wanted to grab his hand, shove it back up my skirt, and make him finish what he started.

“I want to show you sex can be such a beautiful thing between two consenting adults, that there’s nothing wrong or embarrassing about discussing it. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex. Too many people listen to their religions and think they’ve sinned by indulging in this perfectly normal act. Don’t.” He leaned closer, his teeth scraping my neck delicately. “Don’t feel guilty for listening to your desires.”

I straightened my posture, drawing in a long breath. I could do this. This was just another negotiation. It was simply two mature adults discussing what they wanted to get out of this arrangement, nothing more. It was completely irrelevant that the topic was of a sexual nature.

I’d mastered the art of remaining poised in this type of setting. Nothing Dante did could affect me. Not the way he looked at me with a depraved hunger in his eyes. Not the way he licked his lips, as if he’d been thirsty for days and had finally been led to water. Not the way his smooth voice crooning my name made a shiver trickle down my spine.

“It felt good when you played with my clit,” I replied in an even, professional voice. “Well, good probably isn’t the correct word. It drove me crazy when your touch was light, barely there. I thought I was going to lose it, but in a good way.” I cracked a smile.

“I take it no one’s ever done something like that for you before?”

“That’s for sure,” I mumbled.

“But you pleasure yourself, correct?”

I raised my tea to my lips, feeling my short-lived resolve crack. I’d never met someone so bold, so confident in his sexuality as to ask these types of questions. As much as I wanted to treat this like any other negotiation, it was proving to be impossible. In every other negotiation I’d been a party to, I’d done my research. I knew my client’s file inside and out. Here, I felt like I’d been given the case two minutes before having to be in court and was now flying by the seat of my pants.

“Yes,” I finally answered.

“Do you use any toys?”

“What? No!” I responded quickly, as if I’d just been accused of murder.

“There’s nothing wrong if you have.”

I sighed. “I don’t have any. I lived with Brock and—”

“Say no more.” Dante put his hand up, interrupting me. “I have a feeling he wouldn’t take too kindly to it if he found them.”

“He’d probably have a few choice words for me,” I muttered under my breath.

Dante studied me, his gaze unsettling. Then he sighed, pushing a plate with a slice of chocolate cake toward me. “Here. Eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.” My stomach was in knots. The anticipation had me completely unglued.

“What have you eaten today?”

“I had a few cups of coffee this morning.”

“That’s a beverage. It doesn’t count.”

“I also had some fruit. I’m not a big breakfast eater.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. “I’m just not. And I don’t need you to tell me it’s the most important meal of the day,” I added with a smirk.

“Then eat some cake.” He leaned toward me. “You need to have some energy for later.”

“How much later?” I raised a brow.

“You’ll see.” He winked.

Huffing, I grabbed my fork and sliced into the cake, then raised it to my lips. My mouth watered as the aroma of chocolate, sugar, and vanilla met my senses. I slid the fork into my mouth, savoring the rich flavor.

“Delicious, isn’t it?”

“It’s no match for that gelato I had last night.” I passed him a coy look.

“Duly noted.”

A thick silence fell between us while we indulged in our cakes, making me restless. Dante, however, seemed to be completely unaffected by it. I began to think this was all part of his plan.

“Why did you bring me here?” I finally blurted out after I’d eaten half the slice.

“What do you mean?” He dabbed his mouth with his napkin.

“Exactly what I said. Why are you making this elaborate deal out of having sex with me? I propositioned you. I showed up today to prove I was still interested, even without the influence of alcohol. So why all of this?” I waved my hand around the table. “Why can’t we just get down to business and get it over with?”

“Get it over with?” he repeated slowly.

“You have to know the anticipation is killing me right now.” I lowered my voice, trying to maintain my composure. “I was so close to coming before,” I said in a bold move. “Having to sit here is driving me crazy.”

“It’s driving me crazy, too,” he admitted.

“Sure.” I rolled my eyes. “You look like you’re ready to fall apart.” My tone oozed with sarcasm.

“Don’t mistake my composure for not being affected by how alluring you are, how turned on I am by you.” He leaned in, his eyes searing me as he spoke in a seductive tone. “Every time I’ve raised my tea to my mouth, I’ve been treated to your scent on my fingers. Do you have any idea how much I want to throw you on the table and bury my face between your legs? To make your entire body shake from my touch, to bring you to heights you’ve never experienced?” His hand roamed to my thigh and he gripped it with more force than I expected. The initial shock made me gasp. It was somewhat painful, but I felt so much pleasure in that pain. “To know I was the first man to ever have the good fortune of tasting you? Of giving you an orgasm so intense, your mind becomes a blank slate, a complete slave to the rest of your body?”

He pulled back, but his grasp on my leg remained firm. I had a feeling there would be a mark on it later. Something about Dante led me to believe that was the point. He wanted to mark me, claim me as his.

Clearing his throat, he regained his composure, releasing his hold. “Like I said, you certainly affect me, too.”

“Then why are you putting on this show? Why didn’t we just go somewhere more private?”

“You’ve never experienced foreplay. In my opinion, that’s the best part.”

“But this isn’t foreplay. This is just you being an insufferable tease.”

“Ah, Eleanor, you are quite mistaken. This whole afternoon has been foreplay. It doesn’t have to be intimate, although that’s nice, too. Foreplay is all about building up the tension, about bringing each person to the brink of their breaking point, then shattering into tiny pieces.” His lips whispered against my neck, sending a delicious shiver down my spine. “And I plan on shattering you.”