Page 41 of Temptation
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask the question that has been lingering in my mind all day finally finding its voice.
He tilts his head slightly, his gaze softening as it sweeps over my face. “Because it’s been a long time since I had a nice dinner with a beautiful woman,” he says sincerely, his voice carrying a note of wistfulness. “And to thank you.”
“Thank me?” I echo, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in my tone.
“You’ve given me a new perspective on a lot of things,” he explains, his eyes earnest. “I realized there’s a lot of truth in what you’ve said recently, and I’m trying to take your advice to heart. I want to find a balance in my life. I won’t let my children grow up without knowing their father, especially since…” he trails off, but I know how his sentence ends.
Since they had already grown up without knowing their mother.
Moved by his honesty, I reach across the table and place my hand gently over his. The connection is immediate, a silent understanding passing between us.
“That’s wonderful to hear, but your children will also want you to find happiness,” I say softly.
“Happiness is something that can’t be forced,” he replies, his tone carrying a hint of resignation. “Just because you want it, doesn’t mean you’ll find it.”
“It’s going to happen if you open your heart,” I assure him with a gentle smile.
Our moment is interrupted as the waiter returns, placing a beautifully arranged plate of food before us. I pull back my hand, the brief contact lingering in my mind and my skin. As we begin to enjoy the culinary delights, our conversation shifts to lightertopics, each bite and sip drawing us further into a comfortable rhythm.
The evening feels remarkably normal, almost as if we were just another couple out for a typical Friday night dinner. This ordinary feeling makes me wonder—if he ever fully let down his guard, could he learn to enjoy a normal life? And could I be a part of it? Would I really want to?
As the last morsel of food is savored and the final drop of wine is drunk, Fabrizio stands. A wave of disappointment washes over me at the thought of the evening already ending. He extends his hand towards me, and the moment I take it, he gently pulls me up. Leading me to the patio, he stops and wraps me in his arms.
I tense for a split second, my body rigid, before surrendering to the warmth and security of his embrace. “What are you doing?” I ask, my eyes wide with surprise.
“Dance with me,cuore mio,” he says simply, his voice a soothing command.
“What?” I respond, bewildered.
“You heard me. Dance with me,” he repeats, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Here?” I ask, incredulous, glancing at the large glass wall that separates us from the restaurant’s interior, where diners can clearly see us.
“Right here,” he confirms, his smile growing.
“But, I don’t think—” I begin to protest, feeling self-conscious.
“You’re not supposed to think but to dance,” he interrupts with a smirk, pulling me closer. His fingers trace a line along my spine before resting on the small of my back.
The music is soothing, and I find myself swaying to the slow, melodic tune. With each passing note, I relax more, losing myself in the moment and the man holding me. Very slowly, Fabrizio leans in, capturing my lips in a gentle, almost shy kiss. He parts my lips, his tongue sliding inside with a tenderness thatsurprises me, sending tingling sensations coursing through my body.
As our tongues entwine, I slide my hand up his chest, my fingers curling around his neck. His hands roam up and down my back, pulling me closer, and I can feel his growing arousal pressing against me. I cling to him, savoring every moment of the passion that builds between us. It’s so easy to give in, to lose myself in his touch, forgetting everything and everyone around us.
When he finally pulls back, I drag my tongue along my lips, already missing the feel of his mouth on mine. Inside the restaurant, many heads have turned towards us, dozens of people watching our every move.
“Maybe we should stop this,” I suggest, my face flushing hot with embarrassment.
“Why?” he asks, seemingly unfazed by the public attention.
“People are staring,” I explain, my blush deepening.
“Let them stare,” he shrugs nonchalantly.
His hand slides down a few inches, cupping my ass as he lowers his head. His hot breath grazes my earlobe as he whispers, “Let them imagine all the things I’m going to do when I have you in my bed, naked and spread out for me, wet and ready for me to enjoy you in every way I want, as often as I find necessary.”
I bite down on my lips to stifle a moan at the thought. He eases back, locking eyes with me.
“Let them see that you are mine,” he says, his voice firm and possessive. “Not for tonight. Not for the remainder of our stay here. But forever.”
