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My hip ached just thinking about going up them.
“You can’t carry me!” I insisted when I saw him start to swoop down.
“Sure I can,” he said, scooping me into his arms, then lifting me carefully, gently, trying not to jostle anything too much. “See?” he asked, voice close. And… soft? Or was that my imagination? I couldn’t tell. I was too distracted with the feel of him, with the spicy, masculine scent of him, with his little gold necklace with a saint on it, with the way his fingers—soft as they were being—were gripping my flesh.
God, but it felt good to be held.
Even just long enough for him to scale the steps.
“Savannah?” he asked, and this time I was sure his voice was soft, quiet.
“Yeah?” I asked.
“Did you fall asleep on me?” he asked, sounding amused.
“What? No. I was just resting my eyes. I don’t know if you’ve ever been carried up steep steps before, but it is a little like going on an amusement ride.” That was all a complete lie. I had closed my eyes, and rested my head on his, and felt safe and comfortable enough that, yeah, given another couple of minutes, I would have totally fallen asleep.
“I can’t say I have been carried up steps before,” he admitted, still holding me.
“I highly recommend it,” I told him, giving him a smile.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he set me back on my feet. But his hand went to my good hip, staying planted there as he led me toward the restaurant.
There were two men in all-black suits standing on either side of the door, looking surprisingly a lot like security. But Nino had said it wasn’t open yet, so that was a little odd.
I forgot all about that, though, as we moved inside.
It was gorgeous, from all the dark wood and warm red and golden highlights, to the lit back bar full of bottles, and the neat booths in the back with their high sides that made them look like their own little rooms in the middle of a big restaurant.
Nino led me to the side door, then out onto the deck full of wrought iron tables.
We had it all to ourselves, and I moved forward toward the railing, feeling the sea breeze kick up my hair, and taking a deep breath of the salty air, feeling like all of my stress and pain was melting as I stood there.
Nino moved in at my side, but one of his arms went out, going around my back, and resting on the railing at the other side, boxing me in.
The idea would have freaked me out before.
Feeling trapped, stuck.
But when it was Nino doing the trapping?
Let’s just say that I liked it. A lot. With all different parts of my body.
“I don’t know how you don’t eat here every single day,” I told him.
“It’s always nice. But it’s something special when you have it all to yourself,” he said. “Did you take any painkillers today?” he asked, surprising me enough to turn to look at him.
“What?”
“I want to know if I’m ordering wine or not,” he clarified.
“Oh, ah, before work,” I told him. “I was planning on taking one more before bed. But I would definitely prefer wine right now,” I told him.
“Wine it is,” he said, and I damn near felt myself sway into him before the server saved me. Or ruined the moment. Really, I couldn’t tell you which.
We were led to our table, then Nino ordered the wine, and smiled at my impressed look.
“My cousin Massimo owns a winery. I’ve learned a bit about it. Whether I wanted to or not,” he admitted with a smirk.
