Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Not-Matteo takes one step forward with his long legs, putting him within easy reach of me. He picks up my hand and presses his lips to the back, and I nearly have an orgasm on the spot as my clit swells and tingles. “Tell me your name.”
“Dani.” I almost gasp the word. “Dani Fenton.”
“Dani. Daniela. Yes, this suits you. You are all woman.” His eyes sweep over my curves, and my knees go weak. “Would you give me the honor of your company for a time?”
I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. “Yes. I, uh, what’s your name?”
He gives me a slow, decadent smile, and I get all tingly again. “I am Fiero. If you would give me a moment to make myself presentable?”
I nod. He’s still holding my hand; he presses my fingers lightly before releasing them. His skin is rough but warm, and I suddenly want nothing more in the world than to feel his touch all over my body. “Don’t go away,” he says, before disappearing into a small washroom.
As if.
I’m rooted to the spot. Even if my head wanted to leave, there’s no way my body would agree.
Sultry Smile
It feels like an impossibly long time, but it’s probably only a few minutes before Fiero comes back, buttoning up a long-sleeved black dress shirt that transforms his appearance from slightly grungy to stylish. He’s combed his hair – though it still looks a bit wild – and traded his work boots for loafers with no socks ... the same way Dr. Bestia wears them.
There’s a sudden twinge of guilt, as if I’m somehow being disloyal to my professor. But he’s never shown the slightest interest in me beyond the academic attention a teacher pays a student. It’s not my fault that this gorgeous man – who is making it quite clear that he’s interested in me – is apparently Matteo’s twin.
Fiero shrugs on a leather jacket that had been hanging on a hook, then offers me his arm. “Shall we?” His accent is more pronounced than the professor’s; he probably doesn’t get as much practice speaking English, working alone in a studio. After he locks the door behind him, we set off along the sidewalk.
“What brought you to my studio today?”
His question gives me pause. What if my built-in jerk radar drew me to him? But Professor Bestia is such a lovely man; surely, his brother must share his good character, at least to some extent. “Your door was open,” I explain, “and I heard you … cursing.”
He shakes his head, frustration flashing again briefly in his eyes. “Some days, the stone, she doesn’t behave. She wants to be punished.”
From studying his native language, I understand him referring to stone as a female, but his words just serve to make my panties wetter. I want to misbehave and find out what it would be like to be punished by this captivating man.
“And what brings you to the city today?” he asks. “Do you live nearby?”
“Not too far,” I say. “It’s a pretty day, so I thought I’d get some sun. It’s cold, though.”
I’m both surprised and proud of myself for maintaining my ability to communicate. Maybe because I’ve gotten semi-comfortable with Dr. Bestia, that familiarity is transferring to Fiero, though their energies are very different. My professor exudes a friendly, calm vibe, while excitement and passion radiate from this gorgeous manbeast at my side.
“I like the cold. It gives me a reason to hold someone close.” With that, he pulls me to him, and throws an arm over my shoulder as we continue to walk. “Better now?”
I nod, momentarily stunned. It’s as if I’m too close to the sun and might get burned, but I’m unwilling to move away because the heat feels so amazingly good.
Our stroll through town eventually ends at a little hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant, and I realize that it’s almost dinnertime. “They have very good food here,” Fiero assures me. “Not as good as back home, but …” His shrug says, What can you do?
At our table, he pulls out my chair instead of letting the host do it. Once he’s seated across from me, I ask, “What brings you to the United States?”
The waiter comes over, and Fiero queries him in Italian, asking about wine. The conversation after that is harder to follow, it’s so rapid-fire, but I can tell that they’re discussing the menu options. After a few moments, the waiter bows and goes off.
“I have ordered for us. All right?”
“That’s fine.” Though I just had a small salad earlier, my body is focused on things other than hunger. For food, at least.
I wonder if I should repeat my question, but before I can, he answers it. “I am preparing for the first exhibition of my work in your country. A grant from a private arts endowment.”