The Italian Read online

  Hope glanced down at the baby growing inside her stomach. “You are ruining my good judgment and turning me into a hormonal wreck. You’re already grounded. Or in time-out. Or whatever the hell I’m supposed to do with you when you act up.”

  HOPE FELL INTO A ROUTINE of sorts, running almost every morning, searching for a place to live, familiarizing herself with the winery, and by some miracle managing to stay out of Antonio’s bed. Though, he didn’t make it easy . . . and neither did her out-of-control libido.

  Hope had always started her day off with a party-for-one. A healthy dose of masturbation was as much a part of her daily regimen as removing her makeup. She hadn’t felt the need to indulge after the death of her sister, however since arriving at the vineyard, no amount of self-stimulation seemed to be enough to take the edge off and the climactic relief was short-lived. Hope even upped her game, adding nipple stimulation while her brain engaged in highlight reels of past intimate moments shared with the gorgeous Italian sitting in his office a mere hundred yards away from her apartment, yet three hours later, another orgasm came knocking at the door.

  Unfortunately, intense sexual frustration wasn’t her only dilemma. The need, urgent and imperative, to provide this child with everything Faith and Riley would’ve offered weighed heavily on her shoulders. Providing monetary things would be no problem, but giving it all the love and affection and every other selfless obligation a baby required sent her into a tailspin. Plus, there wasn’t one suitable home for sale in a thirty-mile radius. Hope’s choices teetered between a small ancient castle, several dilapidated villas, and a one-bedroom flat. She didn’t know how to go about choosing a doctor, but optimistically tackled her visit with the local OBGYN like a business interview, firmly requesting recommendations. The elderly man spoke bits of broken English and bore a warm smile. Patting her hand, he suggested she ask any woman in town for the referral she required. Apparently, he’d delivered the last two generations in a thirty-mile radius.

  And if she hadn’t already been under enough duress, at fifteen weeks pregnant, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the small bump forming beneath her navel, no matter how hard she tried to overlook it.

  Yet, through all the madness going on inside her head, one thing remained constant.

  Antonio.

  No sooner would the sun dip beneath the horizon, turning the golden hillsides to shadowed valleys filled with a blue-grey mist, and Antonio would miraculously show up at Amore Mio Winery or she’d run into him leaving his office at the Giovanni Vineyard.

  Antonio accompanied her to dinner every night, taking her to quaint restaurants in the heart of the village, boasting of friendly atmosphere, authentic delicacies, and excellent wine. He’d been kind and attentive, placing his hand at the small of her back as they entered the restaurant, casually reaching for her fingers resting on the table, and kissing her sweetly on the cheek. However, hard-running emotions lay just beneath the surface. Neither had spoken of it, but the pull of desire was undeniable and getting more and more difficult to fight.

  She knew better than to allow a man to direct her feelings of happiness. Only she could control her attitude, but every time she got near him the endless amount of joy and contentment he drew from her heart was intoxicating and addicting.

  “Are you waiting for me?” Hope couldn’t conceal the wry grin from lifting at the crease of her lips. Antonio leaned against the sleek black hood of his car in the parking lot of the vineyard, bundled in a light-grey wool overcoat. He looked sexy and warm, thawing her chilled bones from the inside out.

  “Si’, I am.”

  As she approached, Antonio slid his hand inside her open black trench coat. Clasping her by the hip, he tugged her between his spread thighs, bringing an instant spark of warmth to her body.

  She squirmed outwardly, surprised by his blatant and very public show of affection.

  Antonio tilted his head, his lips targeted the sensitive slope of her neck, exposing a fondness that up until that moment had been kept private and under wraps for years. Conscious of her surroundings, Hope retreated a bit, taking a quick inspection, checking to see who was left wandering the grounds of the estate.

  Her hesitation only encouraged him.

  He clasped her wrists and drew them around his neck.

  “Have dinner with me?” he requested in an ache of a whisper, teeth nipping at the lobe of her ear. The heat of his breath swept over her chilled face, raising every hair on her body to spikey points.

  The scent of him, refined and masculine, relaxed the rigidness from her frame. She pressed her lips together considering the offer . . . for a millisecond. Hope nodded, her fingers gripped to the lapel of his coat, dropping her forehead to his chest, inhaling another lengthy whiff of manliness.

  Satisfaction flooded the full-blown grin covering his face. With the click of a button, he started the engine and helped her into her seat before getting into the car himself.

  “How was your day?” Hope curled the end of her thick knit scarf around her icy fingers. She studied his profile lit by the glow of the high-tech instrument panel.

  “It was great. I love this season. It’s like the calm before the storm.”

  “I’m sure it’s nice to have some down time before tourist season is in full swing.”

  “Si, but now is the time to plan ahead. Set goals. Last year we more than doubled our earnings of our best year in the past.” The adoration he held for the future of his family’s estate was evident in the excitement lining the edges of his voice.

  Locked inside the solitude of his car, the sound of his accent bolstered a hypnotic quality, luring her in as he told her about his day. The car purred right alongside her heartbeat as he pulled out of the parking lot.

  Steely grey fog drifted across the road as Antonio turned right at the end of the long drive heading away from town.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Mia casa.” One hand gripped the steering wheel, the other blindly reached for her hand, bringing her fingertips to his lips.

  A tinge of wariness fluttered inside her chest. Her brain trumpeted a warning while her pussy seemed to be elated, clenching her center as if priming itself for an invasion by the fine male specimen at her side. The desperate need for release felt primal in its insistence, but the promise made to her sister sat at the forefront of her mind.

  She didn’t know who she trusted less, him or herself.

  Silence cloaked the interior of the vehicle, feeding off the electricity firing off between them. Hope dropped her head back against the leather headrest, molding her body into the heated seat for warmth.

  “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

  His focus remained on the road, but a sexy smile broadened across his face, easing the strain between them. “I think we need to talk, bella.”

  “Talking and having sex are not the same.” She shoved the heels of her boots into the carpeted floorboard, squeezing her thighs together, sinking her backside farther into the meticulously-crafted leather seat.

  “I planned on cooking dinner for you while we talk, but if you’d prefer to have sex while we—”

  “You don’t cook.”

  “I’m not without skills.”

  “True.” Blush pricked her cheeks. “You definitely have skills . . . I just didn’t know they were in the kitchen.”

  The corner of his gorgeous mouth broke into a filthy grin. His eyes burned of their own illumination. “I seem to remember putting my skills to good use in the kitchen in Spain.”

  A memory of his thick dark hair nestled between her thighs as he was serving her up for dinner, legs spread wide atop a sleek marble table, in a plush hotel suite, came rushing to the forefront.

  “I’ll behave—”

  “You don’t know how to behave,” Hope interjected.

  “I’ve been a perfect gentleman for weeks.” Slicing her a wide-eyed glance of full-blown arrogance, he nailed her with an unspoken challenge. “It’s no
t my fault you can’t control your urges when you’re near me. If you’re planning to make sexual advances toward me, maybe I should turn around and take you back home.”

  The car slowed to a complete stop in the middle of the empty rural road.

  “Wh . . . what? Oh, that’s bullshit, Antonio. Me, take advan—”

  His laughter cut through her outburst.

  Catching sight of a haughty grin dancing in his eyes, Hope whacked his arm playfully, curling her fingers into his jacket pretending to shake him. “Oh, you! That’s it!”

  Moonlight shined through the windshield exposing every detailed expression on both their smiling faces. Hope felt alive with happiness and desire. Her chest heaved heavily, in-and-out, with each exaggerated breath.

  Something honest and raw unraveled inside her. She’d always gravitated toward him in the past, their chemistry magical, but this was different. He eased the pain of losing the two most important people in her life. Hope wasn’t alone. In that moment, she’d never known such a deep longing, a longing that sank all the way to her bones.

  The smile slowly drained from her face, replaced with hunger. Without thinking, her fingers worked frantically at the button of her seatbelt, freeing her from the strap. Shifting in her seat, Hope leaned over the console. Grabbing hold of his open jacket with both hands, she tugged him to her, crushing her lips to his.

  Their mouths collided with bruising force. He licked into the heat, deepening the pressure, his reaction every bit as unapologetic. Their tongues tangled in a sensual dance of seduction, wet and slippery with friction. Delving his hands into her long golden waves, he clasped the side of her face tipping her chin upward. They stared at one another, his sweet breath fanned over her face, before he closed his mouth over hers, taking her mouth again.

  Un-chinking her fingers from his jacket, her hands plunged into his hair, holding him closer. Every pull and stroke of his tongue, each luscious impact, sent a shot of pleasure to the pit of her stomach. The kiss, open-mouthed, wet and deep, went on and on and on until she didn’t know if she’d survive it.

  Antonio slowly decelerated their haste, his full lips wandered over her mouth, sucking, licking, teasing until a deep, gratifying sigh floated from her parted lips. He rested his forehead to hers, gently stroking the sides of her face, each working to catch their breath.

  “I’m not sure where that came from.” Humor and surprise sifted through her shaky breath.

  Antonio’s eyes broadened in a mocking sort of way. “I think you’re trying to take advantage of me.”

  A sheepish grin spread across her face. Both remained quiet, a sense of relief filled the empty space between them. Hope flopped back against the soft brown leather, trembling from head to toe. His hand went to her thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze, before dropping the car in gear, continuing to his villa.

  Once inside his home, she settled into the corner of the L-shaped kitchen and poured a glass of sparkling water. Hope watched in awe as Antonio moved fluidly through the modern kitchen gathering ingredients and prepping a red sauce with garlic, olive oil and pinches of thyme, rosemary, and fennel.

  Standing in front of the large rectangular island, he unclasped the small buttons at his wrists and rolled up his sleeves. The dark hair dusting his tan skin looked sexy against the stark white dress shirt. Antonio piled flour into the shape of a volcano and cracked three eggs into the concave center.

  “That’s all you use, flour and eggs?”

  “Pasta is like a relationship, it only requires two ingredients, it’s simple and forgiving, it takes work but the act is effortless if you love it right, and it’s the best thing you’ll ever taste in life.” A wicked grin danced at the edge of his mouth. “Well, almost the best thing you’ll taste.”

  A crackle of energy passed between them, hot and raw, carnal. The sweet pull of desire pelting her insides.

  He whisked the eggs with two fingers gradually adding flour from the outside rim. The quick, circular motion of his long fingers, made her wriggle shamefully. She blinked repeatedly attempting to impede the absurd amount of sensual tension ripping through her center.

  The idea that watching him finger a couple of egg yolks could turn her into a writhing hot mess seemed ludicrous, but she found herself engrossed in the movement, daydreaming of his fingers slipping inside her. Reigning in the urge to pounce, Hope forced her view from the sight, her eyes fell to the terracotta floors and then lifted to the wood-beamed ceiling, searching for some form of control and decency.

  Thankful the egg mixture had finally formed a ball, she croaked, “I had no idea you enjoyed cooking.”

  His eyes glinted into a rogue smile, lifting a glass of Chianti to his lips with doughy fingers. “Enjoy might be stretching it a bit.”

  Drawn to him by some unknown force, she sauntered up to the island and stood at his side. Her thoughts were lost to the sight of the elongated muscles of his forearms, cording each time he pushed the heel of his palm into the dough.

  “Can—” She cleared the anxiousness from her throat. “—can I help?”

  Energy sizzled between them. His hands continued to work the dough as he swept an inquisitive glance over her features. Desire throbbed inside her core, pulsating in a slow methodical rhythm.

  “Si’.”

  Taking a step back, Antonio encouraged her to stand between his body and the butcher-block counter. Her limbs tensed briefly as he moved in from behind. His mouth buried in her hair, his solid chest pressed against the blades of her shoulders, his hips anchored her to the countertop. Circling his strong arms around her, Antonio placed his hands over hers, kneading the dough until it was completely smooth and elastic to the touch.

  Taking hold of the long rolling pin, he curled his hand over hers, stroking the pin with flour. Her hand glided over the wooden rod, back and forth, with silky smoothness. Swamped with desire, she wanted to reach back and feel his cock, uncut and silky, gliding in her fisted hand.

  Any reserve of willpower she had left, quickly dissolved.

  Instinct took over, superseding any remaining guilt she’d struggled with previously. All the indecisions seemed to disappear. For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and lifted her chin to the heavens. I know you’ll understand.

  Antonio hovered over her, rolling the ball into a flat rectangle. Hot strikes of his breath fell against her neck sending goose bumps skittering across her shoulder. The muscles of his thighs bracketed her long legs. Heat and arousal spread through her needling trigger points with every push and pull of the elongated pin.

  Lost in their synchronized movements, her head felt heavy and loose, slowly lolling against his shoulder as they worked together cutting the dough into long thin strips. Hope relished each bit of physical contact, but her heart was engulfed in an assault of a dozen new sentiments screaming through her body.

  Her back arched, the hard imprint of him, thick and rearing, pressed against her hips. Hope’s insides clenched and contracted, desperately wanting to feel him inside. She felt a tremor of desire coil through his frame. His breath, shallow and heavy, fell over her shoulder.

  A whimper of pleasure slipped from her parted lips. “God, you feel good.”

  “How long?” His voice nothing but a quiet rasp.

  A sensual grin tipped the corner of her lips. Hope swiveled her hips against the stiff, jutting confines of his body. “I’d say ten inches.”

  Grasping her by the arm, Antonio spun her to face him. The quick, claiming motion sent pleasant reverberations to every part of her being. Their chests heaved, nearly touching with every breath.

  “How long are we supposed to try and not have sex? I understand the situation, and if—” He broke off. All bits of playfulness vanished from his gaze. The silver in his eyes now clouded with lust. “—you insist on waiting until after the baby is born, I will attempt to behave, but I’m finding it incredibly difficult to keep my hands off you, bella.”

  “You don’t know how to behave,” she whis
pered. The off-handed comment had become a playful compliment over the years, yet there was nothing funny about the situation.

  Simply being near him brought a warmth, a kind of profound contentment. A feeling she’d never allowed herself to succumb to. Life had forced Hope to be a strong independent woman in order to survive. Her existence didn’t need to be validated by a man. Hope had refused to ask a man for anything except an orgasm and even those she could manage by herself. Yet, she couldn’t overlook the happiness stirring in her heart. Antonio made her feel alive. The feelings were so strong she couldn’t ignore them or cast them aside, but she knew at some point she’d have to. He wasn’t the type of man to make commitments, obligations, or assurances that would last a life time.

  And neither was she.

  A frown drew between his brows in a deep groove. He cradled her jaw, analyzing every single sentiment splashing across her face. Their breath mingled, filling each inhale with the bold scent of smoky red fruits.

  “I’m not a Friday night fuck. We have a history together, Hope.” His fingers coasted to the tips of her shoulders, squeezing gently. The strength of his grip felt vexingly good. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  The certainty in his words should’ve made her bolt out the door, but Hope couldn’t deny the fact that Antonio meant much more than a quick lay. Their easy conversations and friendship brought a sense of calm to the turmoil twisting inside her gut. She enjoyed every minute they’d ever spent together and the last couple of weeks had been a haven, a mental sanctuary. Even without sex.

  Struck with the realization that she truly cared for the gorgeous man standing in front of her unlocked something deep inside her heart. She circled her arms around his waist, pulling him tight to the length of her body, pressing the palm of her hands to the muscles flanking his spine. But it wasn’t close enough. She needed him closer, deeper inside.