“Excellent choices, excellent choices,” the server, Edward, muses as he writes down our order, seeming completely unphased that neither of us has looked at him once. “I’ll get the order in with the chef and those should be out shortly.”
“Edward, we are not to be disturbed for a minimum of thirty minutes.” Sly reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a folded hundred-dollar bill, holding it between two fingers. “Grazie, amico mio.”
“Understood, sir.” He takes the money from Sly’s outstretched hand and leaves the room without another word.
Once the curtain falls back into place, Sly stands and prowls around the table to me. Pushing my chair, he positions it so I’m facing where he stands, then drops to the floor in front of me, kneeling.
Running his hands up my legs, he looks up at me with nothing but raw desire in his eyes. “We have things to discuss, piccola ladra, but they can wait for now. Lift your hips.” His fingertips brush the hem of my dress, bunching the fabric in his fists.
My stomach dips, knowing exactly what we need to discuss—he saw the article.
I should have told him about what August did the night of the gala, and I intended to, but got distracted.
Several times.
Then I didn’t want to ruin everything that had happened between us by recounting the evening's events. So I pushed it aside. I shouldn’t have—Iknowthat.
And now…well, he’s about to distract me again when I know the healthy thing to do would be to discuss everything first, but when he looks at me how he’s looking at me, it’s hard to care about much else.
Still, this doesn’t seem like the best place to be intimate. “Sly, we’re in a restaurant…”
“Lift. Your. Hips,” he growls through gritted teeth.
I do as he instructs, thrusting my hips upward slightly. Reaching beneath the fabric of my dress, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my nylons and pulls them—and my panties—down my legs.
Once they’re mid-calf, he fixes my dress and presses against my thigh to lower me back to the chair.
“You’re lucky we’re in a public setting, Vinnie. I can think of nothing more beautiful than edging you to the brink of explosion, over and over, until your legs are shaking and you’re begging for release, for holding information of that magnitude from me.” He slides his hands up the inside of my thighs, stroking the soft skin. My legs widen as my breath quickens, anticipating his touch while listening to his words. His voice is low, dangerous, even. But I’m not afraid. I know he’d never hurt me, and Icansee how badly he wants me. “Butwhen it comes to you, I am a weak man, and I’d do anything to bring you happiness and pleasure, even if that means allowing you to have your secrets.”
That last part shocks me. “I don’t have?—”
But my thoughts are lost when he pushes two fingers inside me without warning and begins to stroke my G-spot. His thumb finds my clit, and he begins to strum my body like his favorite instrument.
“Sly,” I moan, tilting my head back to the back of the chair.
“Shh, piccola ladra. We may be concealed visually, but we are only separated from a full restaurant by a curtain.”
My body slides down in the chair, chasing his touch as he pumps his fingers slowly, his eyes never leaving my face.
“Sly,” I moan again. “We shouldn’t do this…in a restaurant.”
“If I do not make you come at least three times prior to our meals, I have not done my job as your lover.” He presses against my clit harder, circling it with precision.
My toes curl in my boots as the pressure of my orgasm builds.
“You’re…so much more…than that,” I breathe, my eyes fluttering closed. My hands grip the edges of the chair tightly, white knuckling it with the anticipation of my orgasm.
I’m so close…it’s right there. My breaths come in shorter and faster as I teeter on the edge. “Sly…I’m?—”
“I know, I can feel you, piccola ladra. You’re clenching around my fingers so beautifully.” He changes the rhythm of the thrusts of his fingers and that’s all it takes before a wave of pure euphoria crashes into me.
It takes everything in me to not cry out in pleasure, but impossible to conceal every moan that pushes past my lips. Sly continues to rub me as I ride his hand, and he stands without removing it, bending to kiss me.
His lips are firm against mine, commanding as he guides the kiss.
It’s possessive.
Passionate.
