Page 45 of Tempting Tessa

“You can have the Malbec. But I’m choosing your meal.”

The server materializes, a nervous smile matching his nervous posture. Matteo orders for both of us without bothering to ask what I want, and I let him because the only thing more humiliating than being bossed around by a man is how much I crave it when it’s him.

His hand slides onto my thigh, just above the knee, thumb tracing lazy circles. I cross my legs and it slides higher. I start talking, because if I don’t talk I’ll start moaning.

“I’ve got two prototype lines ready for production,” I say. “The gold is crazy expensive, but the margins are—Matteo, are you even listening?”

His eyes fix on my mouth like I’m the entrée, and the best part is rare. “I’m listening, stellina. I just prefer to multitask.”

I snap the menu shut and look at him dead-on. “We said business first.”

He leans in, his lips brushing my ear. “We said dinner. You said business. But go on. Tell me about the toys.”

I want to slap him and fuck him and possibly both at once. I settle for a withering look while showing him my phone.

“I’m calling this collection Immortal.”

He glances at the phone, then at me. “Which one’s your favorite?”

“The Persephone.” I swipe to the right image—a glossy, deep plum wand, curved like a sickle moon, with gold inlay at the handle. “It’s dangerous. Pretty, but sharp. The kind of thing you want to show off, not hide in a drawer.”

I don’t admit I already fucked myself raw with it and it’s the only toy I’ve ever made myself come with in under thirty seconds.

Instead, I just hand him the phone. He turns it over and gives a low whistle.

“Is it waterproof?” he asks, because of course he does.

“Military-grade sealant. Doubles as a self-defense baton in a pinch.”

He flashes teeth, and I’m sure he’s picturing all the ways I could use it against him. “And the settings?”

I can’t help it, I lean in too, like some kind of Pavlovian idiot. “Seventeen presets. Variable pulse. The top gear is illegal in five countries.”

He grins wider, then he does that thing where he stares at me like he’s psychic and also the devil. “You’ve already tested it.”

It isn’t a question. He just knows. My cheeks flush, so I keep my chin up like a challenge.

“Of course I did. I won’t sell what I haven’t road-tested.”

He hums, pleased but dark, and sets the phone down. His hand slides farther up my thigh, bunching the fabric of my dress like he owns the right. “I want this one. Tonight,” he says, voice just for me. “Since you’ve already tested the merchandise, I’ll need to make sure it meets my standards.”

“Worried you can’t compete?” I murmur, teeth grazing his ear.

He laughs, low and dangerous. “I’m not worried, Contessa.”

Our food arrives with comedic timing; the waiter hovers, eyes wide, probably wondering if he should pretend he didn’t just see my date’s hand disappear into my lap. Matteo sits back, but his fingers never leave my skin.

He cuts my steak for me, precise and practiced, then forks a bite and holds it out. I glare at him.

“I can feed myself.”

He just holds the fork closer, his eyes heavy-lidded and challenging. “Didn’t plan on feeding you the entire meal, but I’m not opposed. Open.”

I hold my ground for a second, then take the bite anyway, refusing to break eye contact as I chew. “You’re insufferable.”

“That’s not what you think when I’m making you cum,” he says, quiet but sharp, and slides another forkful between my lips.

I chew, swallow, and smirk. “You’re really going to make me do this here?”