Page 79 of The Fall Affair

“But—”

Before I could get another word in, Matteo crushed his lips to mine. He walked us backward until my back hit the kitchen island, then reached down, grabbed a handful of my ass, and lifted me onto it. My legs parted and wrapped around his waist. Matteo’s big hands cradled my cheeks, and my mouth opened to let him in. When our tongues met, his low groan shot straight between my legs. The stress of the past week melted away, and I couldn’t get close enough. I threaded my hands into his hair and tugged, and Matteo leaned into me. My eyes rolled back as I felt him harden against my most sensitive spot. I had no idea how long we stayed like that, but it sure as hell wasn’t me who pulled away.

I was breathless when Matteo broke the kiss. “Why are you stopping?”

“Because I’m going to be a gentleman and feed you.”

I pressed my lips to his again, and my words vibrated. “But I don’t want you to be a gentleman, and I’d rather you feed me you.”

Matteo groaned. “Jesus, Allegra. You really know how to break a man. I promised myself I’d take my time with you.”

“Going slow is overrated.”

He shook his head and lifted me off the island. For a second, I thought he was going to carry me to his bedroom, but then he deposited me on a seat at the table. “Dinner is ready.”

I frowned. “You’re no fun.”

Ignoring me, Matteo went to the oven and pulled out the lasagna. The garlicky, mouthwatering smell was almost enough to make me agree that we should wait. Almost. I had to admit, though, watching him work in the kitchen was a pretty good consolation prize. It wasn’t about the food—it was about him. The confidence in the way he moved, sleeves rolled up, handling more than one thing at a time, was attractive in its own right. He wasn’t only cooking a meal, he was taking care of me. Pair that side of him with the man who’d just kissed the life out of me, and it was a lethal combination. One that terrified me.

Matteo plated two generous portions and set them on the table before sliding into the chair across from me.

“You realize you’re setting the bar ridiculously high,” I said, picking up my fork. “I’ve never even had a date who cooked a frozen meal for me, much less a truffle lasagna from scratch.”

“Good. Because you deserve nothing less.”

I tasted the lasagna, and my eyes practically rolled back into my head for the second time since I’d arrived. “Oh my God. I think you might be right. This is better than sex.”

The corner of his lip twitched. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”

“I agree with my nonna. This is even better than hers. And that’s saying something.”

Conversation lulled for a bit while we shoveled food into our mouths.

“How was your week?” he finally asked.

“You mean the four days we didn’t talk? Productive, actually. I clean and organize when I’m stressed. Thanks to you, the antique shop is now in tip-top shape.”

He smiled. “I noticed you took a lot of trips to Pienza.”

My brows drew close. “I didn’t go to Pienza.”

“Ah.” He grinned. “I assumed you did because every time you left your driveway, you went in that direction.”

I chuckled, though I neither admitted nor denied that I’d been taking the long way so I didn’t have to pass him. “I found another teacup to add to the tea set my grandmother had been collecting—the one we picked up a piece for in Minori. There are only two more missing, and I’ll have the full set.”

“Are you collecting it to sell or to keep?”

“I think I’m going to keep it. It’s really pretty, and it obviously meant something to my grandmother, so it feels wrong to sell it.”

“You’ll have to show it to me one day.”

“Next time you stop by. What about you?” I sipped my wine. “How were your four Allegra-free days?”

“Unlike you, I wasn’t so productive. I spent half the time looking over to see if you were outside.”

Conversation flowed easily through dinner, and we laughed, sharing stories about how different our childhoods had been. I’d grown up in the chaos of New York City, and he’d been in a small, quiet village in Italy. But by the time we finally set our forks down, I’d started to feel restless, and my skin had grown itchy again. I tugged at the neckline of my dress.

Matteo noticed. “Are you warm?”