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He takes a seat next to me, his strong woodsy smell assaulting me.
“What does a beautiful girl like you do for a living?”
I flex my fingers so he can see the recent manicure I recently got, “Nail tech.”
“Ah!” He smiles at me. “In that case, may I get you something stronger than a mojito and you can tell me one of your client’s secrets?”
I flash a smile at him, loving that he is already taking the bait. Good boy.
“What about your friend over there?” I nod towards the woman he just left behind.
He chuckles, “Lei non mi interessa.”
“What?” I raise my eyebrows in fake confusion.
“Not interested in her. How could I when I haveuna bellezzalike youbeside me? You don’t speak Italian, huh?”
“No, I do not,” then I take a sip of my cocktail, smiling to myself as I notice how he watches my red lips wrap around the straw.
One of his hands moves down and he presses the palm of his hand into the seam of his pants.
“Everything okay?” I bite on the corner of my lip.
“Not at all,bellissima.What is your name?”
“Marcia. And yours?”
He leans down, taking the liberty to brush my blonde hair from my neck, letting his hand rest on my pulse point. “Luca. I have seen you around here for a few nights now.”
“I just discovered the place,” I say. Then I shiver, an action that makes him smile.
He turns his attention to the bartender and flags him down.“Due shot di tequila, amico.”
“Sissignore.” And just like that two shot glasses filled to the brim appear before us. There are two slices of lemon and a pinch of salt accompanying them.
I lift the glass in salute but he stops me. “Do you need me to tell you the right way to enjoy tequila?”
“No. But you can show me.”
He growls as I slide down my chair a little further, giving him access to my throat. “Beautiful.”
I grit my teeth as I feel his long, wet tongue lick a trail on the side of my neck. This is followed by a trickle of salt, then he repeats the motion and downs his shot in one scoop.
“Delicious!” He says, sucking on the slice of lemon.
“My turn!” I say cheerfully.
He rolls up his sleeve, exposing his wrist to me. I can see traces of black ink on his hand.
I spill a bit of salt on his skin and then without overthinking it, lean in and lick it off him. I feel his groan as I down my own shot.
“A pretty little thing like you in La Terrazza alone needs someone to look after them.”
His hand trails down my cheek before swiping the drop that has collected on my lip. As our eyes lock, he lifts the thumb to his mouth and sucks.
His eyes blaze hot before turning hooded.
Yes. I got him. Hook line and sinker.
