Chapter 26
Allegra
I WAS SO damn nervous.
I stood at Matteo’s door at five minutes past eight, wearing a dress I’d picked up at one of the expensive tourist shops in Montepulciano this afternoon.
The wardrobe I’d brought with me from New York consisted of sundresses, jeans, and sweats.
Nights were getting too chilly for sundresses now, and I would’ve gone stir crazy waiting around all day doing nothing, so a little shopping had seemed like the perfect solution.
I’d purchased three dresses and a sweater, all of which were sitting on my closet floor now because I couldn’t decide which to wear.
I wanted to look nice, sexy even, but not like I was trying too hard.
Looking down, I decided the deep burgundy, ribbed knit dress fit the bill nicely.
It hit mid-thigh, hugged my curves without being too tight, and had a scooped neckline that revealed just the right amount of cleavage.
I took a deep breath and raised my hand to knock, but the door swung open before my knuckles even met the wood.
“Oh. Hey. How did you know I was out here?”
“I didn’t. I was about to walk next door to tell you to stop worrying about what to wear and just come over.”
My mouth fell open. Matteo chuckled. His eyes slid appreciatively over my dress. “Though I do love what you picked.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
He opened the screen door wider and stepped aside for me to walk in.
My heart thumped as he closed the door behind me. The familiar scent of his cologne—woodsy with a hint of leather—scattered my thoughts.
He kissed my cheek. “You look bellissima.”
I swallowed hard. “Thank you. And you smell good.” Though as soon as I walked farther into the house, I caught a whiff of something else that rivaled Matteo’s scent.
My nerves had gotten the best of me today, so I hadn’t eaten, and whatever he was cooking smelled positively divine.
“So does the house. What are you making?”
“White truffle lasagna. Your grandmother once told me it was the only thing I cooked better than she did, so I hoped maybe the palate ran in the genes.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “Come. I opened a bottle of wine I’ve been saving for a special occasion.”
I loved that Matteo had no qualms sharing his emotions. Most men I knew wouldn’t admit a first date was a special occasion, even if they felt that way.
In the kitchen, the table was set for two—the way high-end restaurants did it, with a dessert fork and spoon at the top and a bread plate off to the side. “Wow. You know how to properly set a table.”
He walked over to the counter and picked up a bottle of wine. “I do now. Had to Google it.”
That might’ve been the sweetest thing a man had ever done for me.
Such a simple gesture, yet it revealed so much about who he was.
My heart started to race, and I lifted my hand toward my chest to scratch an itch—but caught myself and stopped.
Scratching would trigger more histamine releases, sending me into a vicious itch-scratch cycle.
Matteo poured two glasses and passed me one. He held his up. “To firsts.”
“To firsts.” We clinked, and I sipped and set down my glass. Standing so close, all I could think about was how much I wanted him—tonight. I offered a flirty smile and moved closer, settling my palms on his chest. “You know…we could put dinner on hold and celebrate other firsts.”
Matteo’s eyes flickered with heat, yet he didn’t move. Instead, he smiled slowly and shook his head. “I know what you’re doing, Allegra. And I want you, too. But this”—he gestured between us—“isn’t something we’re going to rush. We’re at the beginning and don’t need to race to da end zone.”
I pouted and closed the gap between us, pressing my breasts to his chest. “But what if I want to race to the end zone?” I tilted my head and flashed a cheeky smile. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to score?”
Matteo dropped his head and laughed a low rumble. “You’re a dangerous woman, you know that?”
I licked my lips. “Dangerous can be fun.”
Matteo set his wine down and wrapped a hand around my waist. Pulling me tight, he looked into my eyes. “One kiss. And only because I don’t think I could focus during dinner if I don’t taste you. Then we eat.”
“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?”
“No, I think I might be having a reaction to whatever this dress is made of.” It could be true…
Matteo leaned in, his brows pulling together as his gaze dropped to my chest. “You’re red and blotchy. Would you like something to change into?”
I pushed my chair back and stood. “Actually, I have a much better idea.”
Matteo’s gaze followed me as I rounded the table. I grabbed the hem of my dress, hiking it up as I swung one leg over his and straddled his lap. He stayed perfectly still as I leaned in, my lips brushing his ear. “I could just take it off.”
“Allegra,” he groaned. “That is not taking it slow.”
His words might’ve been a warning, but his eyes said something entirely different. They dropped to my cleavage, full of hunger and desire. His hands hovered over my exposed thighs, and I could tell he was on the verge of pulling me closer, even if his head wanted to resist.
“We ate dinner. We had a nice conversation.” I kissed his neck and let my breath linger hot against his skin. “Don’t you want to touch me?”
He grumbled a string of curses in Italian, making me smile. “It won’t be just sex.”
“Of course not,” I teased and kissed his neck. “We had dinner, too.”
Matteo’s hands clamped around my thighs, pulling me flush against him as his mouth closed over the pulse at my throat. “The table is still full of dishes.”
I let my head fall back, giving him better access. “Then we’ll make a mess.”