"Was under the impression that it was the other way around. You’re seducing me, baby."
"Me?" She glances down at her scrubs, then back at me. "I’m hardly dressed for seduction."
"You could wear a sack, and the moment I take in your curves—which, by the way, no cloth can ever hide from me—I’m a goner."
She laughs. "Sometimes, I don’t know if I should believe you or not."
"Oh, believe me, baby." I ease the fork from her fingers, drop it on the table, then bring her palm to my crotch. "See what you do to me?"
Her breath hitches. She massages the evidence of my arousal, and fuck, if my dick doesn’t thicken further."
"And here I was, trying to make sure everything is perfect today."
"Everything is perfect." She squeezes the column between my legs, and my groin hardens. My balls ache, and hell, if it isn’t tempting to throw her onto the table and fuck her senseless, but that won’t do.
"It’s our last night together," I whisper. "I want it to be a night to remember."
"Oh," her features seem to crumple, "that’s right." She pulls away from me, but I don’t release her. She glances away, and her chin trembles.
"Hey," I wrap my arm around her and bring her closer, trapping her hand on my crotch between us. "Don’t be upset, Flower. You know I’ll come back to you as soon as possible."
"It won’t be soon enough." She shakes her head. "You’ve not even left, and I already miss you." She presses her lips together as if she regrets her outburst.
"I miss you already, as well," I admit. I press a kiss to her forehead, then to the tip of her nose. "I have no idea how I’m going to live without you, but I need to get back; my family needs me."
"I know." she bites down on her lower lip.
"Fuck," I groan, "don’t do that. You’re not allowed to do that. Only I can bite down on your lip, Flower." I lick her mouth, and as soon as she releases the hold on her lip, I close my teeth around it. I tug, and she trembles. I lick the abraded flesh, and a moan squeezes past her lips.
"Christian," she moans, "please fuck me."
I release her mouth and press my forehead to hers. "I intend to, but not yet."
"But why?" She massages my throbbing length through my pants. "It’s not like you don’t want to."
"Of course, I do," I confess, "but I promised myself I’d make sure we have at least one civilized meal together before I make love to you."
"Make love to me, now." She tips up her chin. "Please?"
"As soon as we finish dinner." I frame her face. "I need to make sure you are well fed and taken care of. Otherwise, between the demands of your job and my demands on your body, I’m going to wear you down."
She holds my gaze for a second, then nods. "Okay," she jerks her head, "I’ll take a quick shower."
I have the candles lit, the music playing softly over the speakers—which I had specially-ordered a few days ago. I admit, I have consumed a couple of glasses of whiskey to curb my nervousness—why the hell am I nervous anyway?—by the time she returns.
I take in the simple pale pink dress that covers her from shoulder to knee and which shows off her curves, and the blood drains to my groin. She walks over to me in her six-inch heels, which show off her legs to advantage, and all I can think of is that I want them wrapped around my waist while I take her right here.
"You know what?" I glance down at her. "Fuck what I said earlier; let’s forget about dinner."
Just then, her stomach rumbles, and I can’t stop my chuckle.
"Guess you should feed me first, after all?" She laughs as she takes her seat.
I pop the prosecco, pour the sparkling liquid into her glass, then into my own. I fold into my seat next to her and hold up my flute. "To us?"
"To us." She smiles and sips from the bubbles. "Mmm," she licks her lips, "is this also Sicilian?"
"You bet." I take another sip, relishing the fizz of the bubbles on my tongue.