He licked his fingers slowly. Savoring the taste. Never taking his eyes from hers. It was the sexist thing she’d ever seen. Her entire body reacted. She could barely breathe, hot, aroused, completely under his spell.
He slipped into the chair across from her, but the table was so small, he could reach out and touch her. “I hope you’re hungry. Merry outdid herself. She knows you haven’t had much of an appetite lately, so she made certain this was very light fare.”
She suddenly had an appetite, but not necessarily for food. Vittorio had fallen silent, those dark indigo eyes fixed on her face. Waiting. She realized he was waiting for her to speak. “I’ll try.”
He sent her a small smile as he placed a tostada on her plate. “This is white bean with blackberry salsa, one of Merry’s favorites. Pumpkin dukkah with avocado slices, which are good for you and she says you are particularly fond of. Both the salsa and the dukkah are homemade. I think you’ll love them.”
He took the wrapping off a small bowl of salad. “This is tempeh salad with plum and charred artichoke hearts and bok choy. She went to a lot of trouble for us tonight.”
She touched her tongue to her upper lip as he poured red wine into glasses. “I chose the wine. I think you’ll like it. If not, we can choose something else. There’s an extensive wine cellar here and we should be able to find you something.”
Grace picked up her fork. The food did look delicious and sounded even better. She took a tentative taste of the salad, aware of Vittorio’s gaze on her. She sent him a small, embarrassed smile. “Are you going to keep watching me?”
“Yes. Why?”
“It’s a little unnerving. No one’s ever paid so much attention to me before.”
“I like looking at you, especially right now, in your lingerie. I knew that color would be especially beautiful on you. The candles play over your breasts perfectly and light up your skin as well as throw flames in your hair.”
The way he talked, so matter-of-factly, as if he was discussing the weather and not her body, made her hot all over again. He sounded as if he were stating facts, admiring a beautiful art object rather than a flesh and blood person.
“You’ll have to get used to me looking at you all the time, gattina, because I intend to indulge myself as often as possible.”
“You do?” She barely could croak out the question. Her voice didn’t sound like her own.
He nodded slowly. “Just knowing you’re here in my home with me pleases me, but knowing I can look at your body anytime I ask, and you’ll indulge me, arouses me. Thinking about that gives me great pleasure.” He ate two more bites while she stared at him a little helplessly. “You would indulge me, wouldn’t you, Grace?”
She knew she would. She knew she would be equally as aroused by giving him what he wanted. It was a powerful thing to be wanted with the kind of intensity Vittorio showered on her. She nodded. “Yes.” Her voice was very low, but to her astonishment, she sounded blatantly sexual. She felt sexy as hell sitting across from him when she’d never, not once, felt that way in her life. She knew he made her feel that way because he saw her that way.
“I like the idea of walking into a room and you’re there, naked, waiting for me. Just waiting quietly.” He looked around him. “This house is all about peace. I like it quiet. I meditate often. Do you meditate?”
“I’ve tried. I thought it might help me cope better with the stress of Haydon. I tried to learn from reading books.”
“I rise early as a rule.” His gaze drifted over her, dwelling on her breasts and then sliding lower. The glass tabletop enabled him to look at the green lace pulled up to her hips.
She pushed her thighs together almost involuntarily, her face burning. Her body was slick with need and with the candlelight playing over her, it would be impossible for him not to notice.
“Don’t do that. Widen your thighs, Grace.” He spoke in that same low tone, the one that got to her, but also was more of a command than a statement.
She found herself obeying and the moment she did, her sex clenched hotly, and more liquid slipped along her upper thighs.
“So beautiful. I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner. You’ve set up a craving that is never going away.” He leaned across the small table. “I would very much like another taste, bella.”
She froze, uncertain what he meant her to do. He didn’t help her out at all, rather he lifted his wineglass to his fantastic mouth that she was now fantasizing over, and drank the red liquid, his eyes on her face.