He gets delayed by some last-minute logistics, so I end up waiting for him at the candle-lit dinner table for a few minutes, anxiety and excitement battling for supremacy in my chest. Anxiety because I feel sick thinking about tomorrow, and excitement because I can’t wait to spend time with Julian.
When he finally walks into the room, I stand up to greet him, and his gaze fastens on me with breathtaking intensity. Stopping a few feet away, he runs his eyes over my body. When he lifts his eyes back to my face, the fire that burns in the blue depths sends an electric tingle straight to my core. A slow, sensual smile curls his lips as he says softly, “You look gorgeous, my pet . . . Absolutely gorgeous.”
A flush of pleasure warms my skin at the compliment. “Thank you,” I whisper, my eyes glued to his face. He changed for dinner as well, putting on a light blue polo shirt and a pair of gray khaki pants that fit his tall, broad-shouldered body like they were made for him. With his dark, lustrous hair back to its former length, Julian can easily pass for a model or a movie star vacationing on a golf resort. My voice sounds breathless as I say, “You look pretty amazing yourself.”
His smile widens as he approaches the table and stops in front of me. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs, his strong fingers curving around my bare shoulders as he lowers his head and captures my mouth in a deep, yet incredibly tender kiss. I melt on the spot, my neck arching back under the hungry pressure of his lips, and it’s not until Ana pointedly clears her throat behind us that I regain my senses enough to realize that we’re not in our own bedroom. Embarrassed, I push him away, and Julian lets me, releasing me and stepping back with a smile.
“Dinner first, I guess,” he says wryly and, walking around the table, takes a seat across from me.
Ana, her cheeks slightly red, serves us lasagna, pours us each a glass of wine, and disappears before I have a chance to do more than say a quick thank-you.
“Lasagna . . .” Julian sniffs appreciatively at the food. “I can’t remember the last time I had this.”
“Ana told me your mother used to make it for you when you were little,” I say softly, watching as he takes the first bite. “I hope you still like it.”
His eyes lift from his plate, his gaze locking on mine as he chews the food. “You arranged this?” he asks after he swallows, and there is a strange note in his voice. He gestures toward the wine and the candles burning on the outer edges of the table. “It wasn’t Ana who set all of this up?”
“Well, she did all the work,” I admit. “I merely asked her for a few things. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind? No, of course not.” His voice still sounds a bit odd, but he doesn’t question me further. Instead he begins to eat in earnest, and the conversation turns to my upcoming exams.
After we’re done with the lasagna, Ana brings out the dessert. It looks as rich and scrumptious as any I’ve seen in an Italian restaurant, and I watch Julian’s reaction as Ana places it on the table in front of him.
If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. Instead he gives Ana a warm smile and thanks her for the efforts. It’s not until she leaves the room that he turns to look at me. “A tiramisu?” he says softly, his eyes reflecting the dancing light from the candles. “Why, Nora?”
I shrug. “Why not?”
He studies me for a moment, his gaze unusually thoughtful as it lingers on my face, and I wait for him to press further. But he doesn’t. Instead he picks up his fork. “Why not indeed,” he murmurs and turns his attention to the mouthwatering dessert.
I follow his lead, and soon our plates are all but licked clean.
* * *
When we get upstairs, Julian leads me to the bed. Instead of undressing me right away, however, he captures my face between his palms. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, baby,” he whispers, his eyes dark with some indefinable emotion.
I smile up at him, my hands coming up to rest on his waist. “Of course . . .” My heart feels like it’s about to overflow with happiness. “It’s my pleasure.”
He looks as though he’s about to say something else, but then he just slants his mouth across mine and begins to kiss me with deep, almost desperate passion. My eyes drift shut as pleasure spirals through me. His lips are unbelievably soft, his tongue skillfully caressing mine, and the rich, dark taste of him makes my head spin. As we kiss, his hands slide around my back, pressing me closer to him. The hardness of his erection against my belly sends a spear of heat straight to the center of my sex, and I clutch at his sides, my knees weakening as his lips wander from my mouth to my earlobe and then down to my neck.
“You are so fucking hot,” he mutters thickly. His breath almost burns my sensitive skin, and I moan, my head falling back as he arches me over his arm to nibble at the tender area just above my collarbone. My nipples tighten, and my sex begins to ache with the familiar pulsing tension as Julian licks my skin, then blows cool air over the wet spot, sending erotic chills all over my body.
Before I can recover, he tugs me upright, spinning me around so that I’m standing with my back to him. Then his hands are on the back of my dress, pulling down the zipper. The little dress falls to the floor, leaving me wearing nothing but my black heels, push-up bra, and thong.
Julian sucks in an audible breath, and I turn around, giving him a slow, teasing smile. “You like?” I murmur, taking a couple of steps back to give him a better view. The expression on his face makes my pulse quicken with excitement. He’s looking at me like a starving man looks at a piece of cake, with agonized longing and naked lust. His eyes say that he wants to devour me and savor me at the same time . . . that I’m the hottest woman he’s ever seen in his life.