Francesca #2
Then I spotted headlights in the distance, the light dim because of the trees and vineyards in the way.
I felt a jolt of unease, a nervousness I hadn’t felt since I was a young girl having her first kiss.
But despite all the experience I had as an adult and the number of partners I’d shared it with, my breathing hitched like it was the first time.
Wolfe was a different cut of meat from the rest. By far the sexiest man I’d ever seen in real life.
He looked like a Hollywood actor working at the vineyard to get into character for his next project.
The headlights grew brighter, and a moment later, I saw the distinct outline of his Range Rover as he approached my villa. The shiver down my spine was ice-cold, but the flush in my neck and cheeks was like an inferno.
I headed downstairs and opened the front door, seeing him get out of the Range Rover at the bottom of the steps.
He was in different clothes now, as if he’d gone home to shower and change before he headed over.
He was in dark jeans and boots with a dark t-shirt and a long-sleeved overshirt, like he was about to take me to dinner instead of fuck my brains out.
He shut the door then turned to me, visible in the landscape light around the villa. He looked up at me, and a little smirk moved over his lips, his dark eyes reflecting the lights of the house.
He was so good-looking, time froze whenever I looked at him.
He started up the stairs, and once he was a few feet from his Range Rover, the handles disappeared into the side of the vehicle and it locked on its own. He reached the top of the stairs, a mountain of height towering over me.
I was tall for a woman, about five feet eight, but he had to be six and a half feet tall, so I felt dwarfed by his size. When he drew near, I felt weak all over, like I might topple down the stairs and roll into the side of his car.
It was the first time we’d been alone together, no interruptions or unwanted visitors.
And no cockblocks.
“Come in.” I walked back through the front door and entered my villa, stepping into the spacious living room. It had a large kitchen and a dining room that I never used because I rarely had guests. The bedrooms were upstairs.
He took a quick look around. “You’ve got a nice place.”
“Thanks.” In the springtime, I left the windows open so I could smell the jasmine that grew up the trellis on the patio. I closed them when the temperature dropped after the sun set, but I could still smell the flowers on my nose. “Would you like wine? I know you came a long way.”
With an intensity he’d never shown before, he stared me down. “You were worth it.”
“That remains to be seen.”
He smirked. “I’m not worried about it.”
I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle that was already uncorked, and filled two wineglasses on the kitchen island.
He stood there and looked at me, his shoulders stretching the fabric of his overshirt nicely. His eyes never left my face, staring at me openly because it was the first time he’d had the opportunity.
I’d never been stared at quite like that. I grabbed my glass and took a drink as I met his gaze.
He did the same, bringing the dark liquid to his lips and taking a deep drink like it was water before he returned it to the table. “You make good wine.”
“Are you a wine drinker?”
“I drink anything with a decent proof.”
I finished off my glass and gently set it on the tile countertop. “How’s your arm?”
“Already forgot about it.” He came around the kitchen island and made his way toward me, a predator stalking his prey, except his eyes were intense rather than murderous.
He moved into me, his intention heavy in the air between us.
Instead of sliding his hand into my hair to kiss me, he backed me up into the counter near the window.
He pressed against me as he looked down at me, the air sucked from my lungs.
Then his hands moved to my ass, and he lifted me onto the high counter, bringing my height closer to his. He hooked my legs around his waist then dipped his head to kiss me, sliding his hand into my thick hair as he did it.
I melted at his touch, tasting my father’s wine on his lips, swept away by the heat that instantly turned into an inferno.
Knowing it was just the two of us in that villa immediately made me sweat with desire.
My arms circled his neck and my fingers dug into his short hair, being kissed like I’d never been kissed in my life.
I turned my head to kiss him in a different way, and before our lips landed, I whispered, “Cristo…” When I kissed him again, it was even more intense, both of us breathless like we were already naked and fucking, even though we were fully clothed.
“Upstairs,” I said against his mouth, needing no foreplay with this man.
He lifted me from the counter and carried me out of the kitchen.
I hadn’t expected him to carry me there, but he held me like I was weightless, navigated my villa like he’d already been there. He carried me up the stairs effortlessly, taking two stairs with every step, and then made his way down the hallway.
I kissed the corner of his mouth, my fingers digging into his hair. “Last door on the left,” I said breathlessly.
He nudged the door open with his knee then carried me to the white bed. The curtains were already drawn closed, and the lamp on my nightstand was on. He lay me on the edge, and I placed my hands against his overshirt and pushed it over his shoulders.
He straightened then let it drop down his arms before he grabbed my leg and slipped off one of my sandals before he did the other.
I undid my own jeans and lifted my hips to tug them off.
He hooked his fingers into the denim and started to help me.
“Take off your clothes.”
He smirked then stepped back, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing a rock-hard physique covered in beautiful ink from his neck all the way down into his jeans.
Even with all the dark ink, I could still see the definition of his ripped body, the muscles of his stomach, the concrete slabs of his chest.
That made me rush to get my top off and then to unclasp my bra.
He kicked off his boots and then dropped his jeans and boxers underneath—revealing a fucking monster cock.