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My heart stops and then starts beating double-time at the small touch. I have no answer for him. I can barely remember my own name right now, much less what was on the itinerary for the afternoon.
Rio's expression says he knows exactly what the chaste physical connection is doing to me. Then he starts caressing my hand with his thumb, the brushes back and forth never stopping.
I had no idea that holding hands could be so sexual.
Dylan isn't so hampered, and he rattles off the two places we are supposed to see.
"If you trust me to set our agenda, I can promise you a more comprehensive and interesting tour." Rio's asking all of us, but his gaze never leaves mine.
"Cool," Dylan says.
"Just give me directions," Joni agrees. "But tell me how to turn on the nav system so I know where we are."
It's a good thing my friend has her caution cap on, because mine is long gone and Dylan is the risk taker in our group. He's always up for the unexpected.
Rio gives directions and a really fascinating tour commentary of the city. It's a forty-minute drive to our first stop and he keeps up the interesting tidbits of history and local color, never once taking his hand from mine.
I'm so wound up by the time we reach Piana, I'm ready to explode. The bulge in Rio's slacks says he's not unaffected either.
Of course, Dylan insists on getting cannoli. "We can't come to Cannoli Village without eating at least one."
"Did you have to tell him the nickname for the town?" Joni mock whines. "He's going to insist on trying several to see who makes them best."
We all know it's not Dylan that won't be satisfied with tasting only one of the cream-filled tubes of pastry. Joni's the one with the sweet tooth.
But we all try different types of cannoli at three different bakeries. My favorite is filled with pistachio cream.
Probably because after I eat it, Rio swipes a bit of cream from the corner of my mouth with his thumb and then licks it off. My mouth tingles like he just kissed me.
We're all too full from cannoli to get lunch, but Rio insists we try food at every stop. Fresh fruit so juicy and sweet I wish I could take some home. Arancini so deliciously seasoned, I ask the vendor for the recipe.
"You send me an announcement of your wedding I will send mybisnona'srecipe as a gift to bless your marriage." The old man speaks in Sicilian, but it's close enough to Italian, I get his drift.
My cheek heats with a blush, but Rio grins and offers his hand to shake on it.
Eventually we make our way back into the city.
"Come to dinner with me," Rio says as we draw up outside the tour hotel.
It's ridiculous. Impulsive. But every instinct I possess tells me I can trust this man. Those same instincts insist I will regret walking away right now.
And it's not just the sexual need buzzing through my body like a whole hive of bees. "Yes."
Joni about has a conniption, and she insists on getting Rio's phone number. When she tells him to put her contact in withfind my friendprivileges, I put my foot down.
"Knock it off, Joni—" I start.
But Dylan interrupts. "While you were busy driving, I looked the guy up." He and Rio share an enigmatic glance. "He's safe, alright? Not only do I know where to find him here in Sicily, but where his family business is headquartered."
"Do you want to know those things?" Rio asks me, wariness in his tone.
I shake my head. "Dylan knows them. That's enough."
The truth is, I don't want to tell Rio about my parents and I'd rather get to knowhim, not his background.
CHAPTER 3: Tanzi
