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I also think you may be the only woman I’ve met in the past few years who made me crave to break a few rules just to put my hands on her. In her. over her. But if you go screaming foul play and harassment, I’ll politely back away and leave you alone. Capisce? Now breathe.”
At his command, the air let loose from her lungs in a rush. She sat frozen in her chair, eyes wide with a combination of shock, confusion, and a touch of fear. The fear mixed with a flash of pure longing. yes, she wanted him, too. Interesting. Why wouldn’t she act on it? Why did a man showing interest freak her out so much?
The waiter glided by, cleared their plates, and asked if they wanted dessert.
“No,” she said firmly.
“Tiramisu, please,” he countered. “Two espressos with sambuca.”
She tossed him a dirty look, and he struggled with the instinct to kiss it right off her. How could a woman who used no lipstick have such a succulent mouth? All pouty and pale pink. “I hope this isn’t going to be a precursor of your need to run things,” she said. “Though I appreciate your forthrightness regarding the initial attraction to me, I assure you it will fade. I have no time to engage in affairs.”
Her prim tone made a surge of lust hit his gut and spread. He shifted in his chair and adjusted the napkin.
“Why do you think it will fade?”
Her gaze shifted. She threw back her shoulders, but he caught the tension in each fine bone of her body. “It always does.”
“Do you want me?”
This time, she couldn’t hold back a gasp. “We just met yesterday. I don’t go jumping into bed with strange men or make decisions regarding my attraction after one dinner.”
“Sometimes that’s the best time to trust your instincts.
The moment we rationalize chemistry, we risk losing it for-ever.”
His words seemed to strike a chord. regret dimmed the light in her eyes. Protectiveness surged through him and rattled his calm. He ached to pull her into his arms and hold her, rock her, soothe the sadness lurking beneath the cool surface. But she didn’t belong to him, so he had no rights.
yet.
Dessert arrived, and she chose to keep her silence. They nibbled on the cocoa biscuit and savored the rich cream of soaked ladyfingers and cinnamon. The sting of liquor in the dark espresso brew hit Sawyer’s belly hard and heated his veins. He watched as Julietta’s thoughts scrambled, evident in the slight frown marring her brow and the concentration stamped on her face. The bill came and he paid, sparing her a quick warning glance when she opened her mouth to protest. When the dessert plate was scraped clean and the cups emptied, she patted her lips with the napkin and met his gaze.
“I think we’re going to make a great team,” she said slowly. “But I’m not interested in bringing this into the bedroom. I have my reasons, and I appreciate your can-dor. you’re an attractive man, and in other circumstances, I would jump at the chance to engage in a hot affair. Please respect my decision, and don’t push me any further. Just . . .
don’t.”
Her voice broke slightly on the last word. His heart squeezed with a need he didn’t recognize, but he knew the rules. Created the rules. Both parties must be willing in order to move forward. An element of trust proved key to keeping the relationship burning at a high flame without blazing. The alpha wolf in him howled with lust and challenge to change her mind and make her beg for torturing him. Sawyer waited for the mess of emotions to finish rac-ing through him before he wrested control and blanked out his thoughts.
A smile curved his lips. “As you wish,” he murmured.
Her body loosened. Her tongue flicked across her lower lip again, and she smiled. “Grazie.”
He nodded, and she rose. Shrugged on her jacket.
Grabbed her purse. Sawyer guided her out of the restaurant with a hand at her elbow and tried to calm the rush of adrenaline tightening his muscles and strangling his breath.
His last thought flashed like a mantra over and over again.
Let the challenge begin.
Chapter Four
Julietta picked her head up and stretched the kinks from her neck. The stack of files was only half cleared, and her cup of cappuccino had long grown cold. A dull throb behind her eyes warned her time was almost up. Mio Dio, how long had she been working? A quick glance at her watch confirmed four steady hours with no break. A sigh broke from her lips and surprised her. Usually she enjoyed her Saturday mornings in her apartment, taking care of all the loose ends she had no time to close during the week.
Coffee, paper, her laptop, a little music, and she was content. except . . .
She stared out her window. The gleam of sun rarely seen in the moody month of February strained from the thick clouds in a screw-you gesture. Julietta unfurled her legs from her chair and strode over to the window, peering at the scene below her. The roar of motorcycles and mo-peds echoed from the streets in an attempt to squeeze in as much riding as possible on a nice day.
She pressed her palm to the cool pane and pondered the idea. Funny: Since her last encounter with Sawyer, the rare edge of wildness nipped at her usual logical self, daring her to break routine and echo the sentiment of the current weather.
Screw it. Work could wait.
She made the decision and didn’t look back. She was going riding for the rest of the afternoon. Her fingers itched to grab the bars of her bike and stop thinking for a little while. With her consistent workaholic tendencies and slight oCD, she tipped the scales of exhaustion too many times.
At least she’d found an acceptable outlet other than ther-apy.
Motorcycles.
She paused to fix the slight tilt of the three photos on the mantel and headed to the bedroom. She changed in re-cord time, donning supple Prada pants, boots, and a simple cashmere sweater. She shrugged on her leather jacket, took her helmet down from the top of the closet, stuffed her phone in her hobo bag, and left.
She walked the necessary blocks until she came to the small storage garage where she kept her bike. The wind was frisky, but she’d layered enough to stay decently warm for the trip. Mentally calculating the miles she wanted to ac-complish, she decided on an easy route toward Navigli.
Julietta stepped in front of her secret obsession and her skin tingled as if she gazed at a lover.
Perfection.
Naked twisted metal and sleek black made up the machine, which was in a class by itself. The brand-new Moto Morini Corsaro had all the elements she admired and demanded in a bike. Speed. Lightweight. Agility. And raw, sexy, growling hp.
