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“I feel like I’m going to explode. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much in my life.”
Her admission makes me grin. Hell, anything she says has been bringing a smile to my face all evening. “Let’s just take a taste,” I say and reach for the plate of cannoli. Sliding my fork through the flaky pastry shell, I scoop up some of the creamy, sweet ricotta filling. “Cannoli is a staple Sicilian dessert. We can’t not eat it. That would be a shame.”
She laughs and I lift my fork, lean forward and offer her the first bite. Without hesitation, Hannah presses closer and wraps her mouth around my fork, pulling the bite of sweetness right off the edge. I watch her chew then lick her lips, and my dick is about to tear through my pants at the sight. She’s so damn lovely it’s sinful. And, God knows, the things I want to do to this woman are downright wicked and, possibly, slightly sinful.
Willing the throbbing in my pants to go away, or at least to settle down, I send her a smile. “Well? What do you think of Agresti’s cannoli?”
“Ohmygod,” she breathes, pressing her full lips together, “it’s so good.”
Forcing myself to look away before I blow and thoroughly embarrass myself, I sweep another bite of cannoli onto my fork and eat it. Yeah, it’s delicious. But, not even half as good as I imagine the beauty sitting across from me would taste. All I can think about is pulling that little red dress up, sliding her panties to the side and licking her sweet, wet pussy. Just thinking about the way she moaned as she ate the cannoli off my fork makes me grit my teeth and will my unruly dick to go down. But, I can’t help but wonder how that moan would sound right before she screams my name as I’m riding her hard.
Fuck. I swipe a hand over my face and try to shut down the lust currently setting my blood on fire. But, it’s getting harder and harder not to picture her naked and writhing beneath me. I know she would take me so well, take all of me so deep. And she’d be so wet, dripping for me. Only me.
She’s a virgin, asshole. The last thing on my mind should be bedding Hannah. Especially after what she went through last night. I can only imagine how much it might’ve traumatized her. Not being able to choose the first man you sleep with and being threatened with rape in order to pay off your debt must’ve been terrifying for her. My poor, precious angel. The last thing I want is for her to be scared of sex. That would be a goddamn tragedy. With that luscious body of hers, I have no doubt that she has the potential to be an absolute sexual goddess between the sheets.
And, God help me, I want a taste. I want to know what it feels like to slide into her hot pussy. I want to experience the moment of her first release with a man and know how it feels to have her slick core clench around my stiff cock and milk me hard. Maybe I’m being a selfish bastard, but I can’t help it. It’s been a long time since lust has had such a fierce grip on me and I’m not sure how to handle it.
This isn’t the wine talking either. I’m completely sober and only allowed myself one glass. The rest of the time I drank water. I’ve also counted how many glasses of wine Hannah has drunk—two. So, yeah, she’s definitely feeling good. But she’s not stumbling-down drunk or anything. She seems giddy and happily buzzing, but still able to make an informed decision. She’s able to give consent if things go that way. And, God help me, I want them to go that way. I want it so damn badly, I ache.
As wonderful as dinner is, eventually it’s time to go. I leave Mario and his staff an outrageous tip then stand up, walk over and pull Hannah’s chair out. I watch her get up, gauging how steady she is on her feet, especially wearing those sexy heels, and she appears perfectly stable. Thank Christ. Otherwise, I’d be a real letch for what I’m thinking about doing.
“Okay?” I ask and reach for her elbow.
“I’m good,” she assures me, grasping onto my arm.
I love the feel of her holding onto me and I guide her through the dining area. After a quick thank-you to Mario, I take Hannah outside and we wait for the valet to bring my car around. She’s leaning against me and I look down as she looks up.
“You’re so pretty,” she whispers and I burst out laughing.
“How drunk are you, Hannah?’ I ask. Because as much as I want to be with her, I won’t do anything but take her home if she’s not in the right state of mind.
She thinks over my question then smiles. “I’ve had enough wine to feel good, but not too much that I want to pass out.”
“That’s reassuring,” I mumble. I’m still not sure and I’m starting to wonder if I should just take her back to her place. The longer I keep her around, the way she’s touching me, the way my nose is filling with her baby powder scent, it’s making it harder and harder not to jump her.
“Vin?”
“Yes?”
“Can I go home with you?”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs and I’m speechless for a moment. “Angel,” I finally say, brushing a hand over her blonde hair, “you can have whatever you want.”
“Can I have you?” she asks, not missing a beat.
“Me?” I need to be completely clear with her request. “What exactly do you want, sweet girl?”
“I want to pay you back for being so kind to me.”
“You don’t owe me a damn thing, do you understand?” I need her to know I have no expectations.
“Yes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We’re still staring at each other when the valet pulls my Mercedes up to the curb. I help Hannah inside, tip the guy and then get in on the driver’s side. An internal debate is going on in my head. Do I take Hannah home or?—
“I want to go to your place,” she says, voice firm.
