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Luca sat back in his seat and smiled. The views from the terrace were sublime, it was true, but then his view was even better. He hadn’t lied. She looked amazing tonight. There was something about the colour of her cat-like eyes. And there was something about the colour of that dress, the way the shadows danced across it in the light whenever she moved. His fingers envied those shifting shadows and itched to dance their own way across her skin. ‘Are you hungry?’ he asked as they were handed their menus. He was, but what he wanted to feast upon had nothing to do with his stomach.
She’d left him hungering for more last night. He’d imagined a second course before leaving for work, but she’d been so deeply asleep this morning that letting her sleep had seemed the far wiser action. He wanted her wide awake when he made love to her again. And this time he wanted her to last all night.
This night.
The thought was as delicious as anything offered on the menu, which suddenly seemed too long and filled with far too many courses. He lost interest in the choices, returned to watch her instead, enjoying the tilt of her head and the curl of slim fingers angled around her menu.
‘A little,’ she said, her eyes drifting upwards, widening when they caught him watching her. She swallowed and he watched the slight kick of her chin and the movement down her throat. ‘Is there something special you can recommend?’
Plenty. But if she was talking food—he skipped straight to the main courses, already impatient to be home. Surprised a little by how much. ‘The monkfish is excellent here, or there is always the rabbit.’
Something flared in her eyes, something challenging, as if she could read his thoughts. ‘I think the beef,’ she said, and he smiled.
‘Excellent choice,’ he said, thinking she would need it and ordered for them both.
Sparkling prosecco arrived, poured into glasses spun with gold. ‘A toast,’ he said, lifting his glass to her. ‘To...’ She arched one eyebrow, waiting. He smiled, a long, purposeful smile. ‘...anticipation.’
Her expression gave nothing away. Only her eyes betrayed the fact she felt it too, this thread between them, as fine as that trace of gold spun in their glasses, pulling inexorably tighter. ‘To anticipation,’ she echoed, a husky quality infusing her voice as she lightly touched her flute to his.
Giddy.
She hadn’t even had one sip of the wine and she already felt giddy. But how could she not? The setting was sublime, the view magical and the man opposite was looking at her as if she was more tasty than anything on the menu.
And no matter what she thought of him, she could not help but like the way he looked at her and what it did to her body. She liked this delicious heat simmering under her skin and the way his eyes warmed her from the inside out. She liked the way he seemed impatient to have this meal over with when he had been the one who had insisted on coming out. There was something empowering about his need, something that meant he didn’t hold all the cards.
Yes, she had agreed to his deal. She was his for the month, it was true, but did he not realise that by dressing her up and turning her into something worthy of his attention he was handing her a decent measure of his power?
All she had to do was play her part. It wasn’t hard. Whatever she thought of Luca Barbarigo and his ruthless determination to get his own way, there was no hardship in anticipating the pleasures of the night to come. Just as there was no hardship in anticipating the pleasures of walking away one short month from now.
Oh yes, she’d drink to anticipation.
‘So this is where we make small talk,’ Luca said, breaking into her thoughts. ‘Where we sit and converse like two civilised people when there is somewhere we would both rather be and something we would both much prefer to be doing.’
There was no need to ask what he would rather be doing, not when his dark eyes were thick with desire. But if he wanted small talk... ‘Maybe we could talk about the weather,’ she suggested. ‘It’s a beautiful night.’
‘The weather does not interest me.’
‘No? Then we could talk about the view. You could point out the places of interest. There seems to be no shortage of those.’
He shook his head. ‘I could do that. But that would be dull. We would just be marking time. I would rather talk about you. How long is it since that night? Two years? More?’
That night. What an appropriate way to put it. ‘Three years come January.’
‘So many.’ He took a sip of his wine and sat back, his dark eyes searching hers. ‘Which begs the question: what have you been doing all that time?’
