The Italian Billionaire's Lover

CHAPTER 2

He smiled arrogantly as if he was not expecting her to change her mind.

'I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of ordering sea food. It's my favourite,' he smiled arrestingly. She nodded, too afraid to speak.

Alina glanced around the room nervously. Not for the first time she wondered why he chose to dine with her. He seemed to be enjoying his meal, tucking in with gusto. Nervous, her appetite escaped. The seafood smelt delicious. Alina was certain everything on the platter would taste delicious. She knew the opulent hotel's pricey restaurant made the most exquisite food. Alina found the silence eerie

'You have an unusual name---for an Italian, Signor Casiraghi.'

He looked up from forking his lobster as if annoyed at the disturbance of his sumptuous feast. 'My mother is Greek. Should I order you something else?' he changed the subject, looking at her barely touched plate.

'No Signor Casiraghi---.'

'Call me Tomas,' his voice was soft, compelling.

'So you live in London---Tomas?'

He smiled, put down his knife and fork and dabbed the napkin over his lips. She wondered if he would respond. He lifted his glass of red wine to his delectable lips. Alina looked away.

'I forget you English like conversation with your meals. We Italians like to have conversations with what's on our plate,' he laughed, a deep, throaty, sexy laugh.

Alina smiled. Not that his lean figure showed any evidence of that kind of indulgence. She was certain there was not an ounce of fat anywhere on his stunning body. His body--- what did it look like without his clothes on? Good heavens! What the hell was wrong with her? Alina speared a grilled calamari and fed it through her lips.

'I have an apartment in Rome, close to my work,' his voice was a welcome relief to her erotic thoughts; 'but my villa in Tuscany is where I like to relax when I'm home,' he drank from his glass again. I'm here on a short trip, before I head to Madrid.'

Where no doubt a Spanish beauty will be awaiting you between satin sheets.

Now why did that taste like a poison chalice? Not that she was harbouring any foolish notion that there was anything more to this evening being, just dinner. After all he did just say he was heading to Spain. Still she found him fascinating. If she kept a diary, this evening would certainly be the only highlight in the otherwise boring diary. For the simple truth was that she was boring. Her life was boring and she lived a boring life. Home—work--home—work--.

'So what do you do?'
'I beg your pardon?'
His deep accented voice surprised her depreciating thoughts.

'I found you in my office, making a ---mountain out of fruit.'
Alina laughed spontaneously. Tomas stared. He smiled when she stopped laughing.
'A pyramid,' she murmured, sipping on the delicious wine.
'Scusi?'
'I was making a pyramid display,' she rubbed her palm down her arm.
'Are you cold?' He stood up.
'No---,' Alina lied.

Tomas removed his jacket. He walked around to her chair and lifted her up. Alina avoided looking at him. He was too close. She could smell his expensive cologne; feel the burning heat of his body. 'You have goose bumps,' his fingers trailed down her arm.
'I---'
'Better?' his eyes fused with hers, he'd draped his jacket over her shoulder. She could feel his warmth still on the jacket.
'Th---thank you,' her tongue worried over her lower lip.
'You have the most beautiful eyes,' his accent was more pronounced, his voice husky.
'So do you,' she blurted.
Tomas laughed, 'you know that? You've hardly dared to look me in the eye. What colour are my eyes?'
'Brown---black,' she was still not looking.'
'Perhaps you need to make sure,' he challenged. When she did not, his index finger guided her chin upwards.
Charcoal!
'Are you afraid of me?' He drew nearer, his warm breath caressed her cheek.
'Y---yes.'
'Should I kiss you, cara?' His torturous fingers caressed her throat.
Cara---me? He wants to kiss me!
'No.' She closed her eyes. Her lips parted, her head moved a fraction towards him.
'I thought so.'
Alina heard him chuckle. Her eyes flew opened.
His lips brushed hers. His eyes were dancing ... dark with desire. Desire for her? How could this man who could have any top model or celebrity, look at her so lustfully?
'Your hair is like a velvet curtain,' his fingers glided through her hair, bringing her even closer to him.
Involuntarily her hands found his chest, to steady herself, of course. The simple touch sent a thrill of excitement rushing through her body. She stood there quivering. Her soft mouth trembled, her emerald eyes blazed with lust, lust she never knew she was capable of feeling. His mouth brushed over hers once again and again, increasing the pressure until a low moan escaped her throat and her lips surrendered like he knew they would. Heat raged through her veins like a forest fire. His mouth plundered hers.
She tasted sweet, of the wine she had just sipped. Her tongue was like honey, locking with his. His fingers closed over her breast. The jacket fell off her shoulders. Her fingers brushed his silky jet black hair. She felt his arousal, bruising against her pelvis. His kiss became more aggressive. Her arms circled his neck.