I can tell from the look on his face that he’s finding my sexual naïvety amusing and it’s irritating me.
‘It’s all right for you to sit there smirking, but I have no idea about these things,’ I mutter. ‘I’m learning from scratch so you’re going to have to give me a break.’ I’m shaking with both adrenaline and frustration. It’s really unlike me to stand up for myself like this, but I know I need to do it if I’m going to maintain any vestige of control over this situation.
He puts up a hand in apology. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being an asshole. I promise not to tease you any more. Not about your lack of experience anyway.’ His eyes glitter with mischief. ‘There are plenty of other ways to tease you that I think you’re going to like a lot.’
I squirm in my seat as more heat surges between my legs and my knickers grow damp. At this rate I’m going to slide right off this chair in a pool of lust. And he’s not even touched me yet.
* * *
We make it to the apartment in the early evening, doing the journey from Peretola airport to the centre of Florence in another powerful open-top sports car, whose roaring engine makes it impossible to conduct any conversation.
Our home for the next week is on the top floor of a grand apartment block right next to the Ponte Vecchio. Our windows look out over the quirky bridge, its jumble of jewellery shops clinging like limpets to either side, propped up by precarious-looking wooden struts, and beyond it to the wide Arno river and the deep russet rooftops rising on the far bank. It’s a magnificent city and I stand for a moment, drinking in the sheer unique elegance of the place.
‘Let me show you your room,’ Sandro says, beckoning me to follow him with one crooked finger.
I’m relieved to find he doesn’t expect us to share and give a delighted smile as I look around the beautiful airy room with its Art Deco furniture and enormous, cushion-strewn bed.
‘It’s wonderful,’ I say breathily. This room also has a view of the river, and I push the wooden shutters open as far as they’ll go to drink it in some more.
Turning back, I see he’s moved to stand right next to the large bed and is watching me with an intensely thoughtful expression on his face. My pulse immediately picks up and my breath catches in my throat.
Is he going to start my first lesson right now?
The idea both thrills and terrifies me.
I move closer to him on shaky legs, telling myself not to be nervous, that he’ll take good care of me like he promised. Based on all my dealings with him so far, it’s obvious he’s absolutely the gentleman I’d hoped he’d be.
Even so, my heart is racing and my palms are sweaty.
He continues to look at me as I get closer, his fingers beating a silent rhythm against his thighs.
‘S-so, do you want to get started right away?’ I ask, nerves making my voice tremble.
A frown crosses his brow, then vanishes behind a smile. ‘So eager.’
‘Well, I’ve not come all the way to Italy just to sightsee,’ I joke, but it comes out sounding a bit defensive.
He shakes his head and walks over to meet me in the middle of the room. Reaching out his hand, he pushes my fringe out of my eyes, and I just stand there blinking stupidly at him.
The air crackles between us, as if the tension is charging it with electricity.
‘You know, anticipation is a powerful aphrodisiac,’ he murmurs, sweeping his thumb over my cheek so softly I wonder whether he’s actually touched me or if the mere promise of it has set all my nerve-endings on fire. My whole body is one big throb of need, and I stare up into his beautiful eyes, losing myself in the perfection of them.
His gaze drops to my mouth and my lips tingle as I wonder what it would feel like to have his mouth on mine. His wide, firm mouth.
I swallow hard, my throat a desert.
‘Get changed. We’re going out,’ he murmurs, his gaze flicking up to meet mine again.
I stare at him for a moment, trying to process what he’s just said though my haze of lust.
Then it finally sinks in. He’s not interested in taking things any further right now. He wants to get out of here.
A strange mixture of relief and disappointment threads through me, quickly followed by panic as I wonder what the hell I’m supposed to change into.
I had no idea what sort of clothes I should pack for such a strange trip so I bundled one of every type of clothing I owned into my case, telling myself I could always go shopping if I needed anything else. But thinking over my sad collection of lingerie and demure clothes brings home to me just how much I’ve neglected that side of my life. I’ve never really thought about owning underwear and outfits that someone else might find attractive; my top priority has always been comfort. And it’s going to show.
Still, it’s not as if I have to impress Sandro to entice him into bed – that side’s already covered under our agreement – a thought that kept me tossing and turning in bed all of last night.
