I stare at her through slits but with a smirk on my lips. “Why? Are you afraid I’m going to turn into a stalker after all?”

Chiara shakes her head and smiles ruefully at her wine. “No, it’s not that.” She pauses to lick her lips, looking at me again from under her eyelashes. “I have the feeling that the more I know about you, the harder it will be to let you go.”

I clench my jaw hard and don’t say anything for several beats. I can tell Chiara is interpreting my silence the wrong way by how her eyebrows furrow together, marring her otherwise smooth skin. I reach for her chair, pulling it across the floor with a loud screech until she’s sitting next to me.

“Now, that’s better. You were too far from me.” I touch her cheek with the back of my hand as I stare deep into her eyes. “I agree to your rule only because it’s going to be hard for me as well.”

Her breath catches at the same time her lips part, making it impossible for me not to shorten the distance between us and kiss her again. But I’m greedy, and kissing her doesn’t satisfy my hunger. I want more.

I slide my hand up her thigh and under her dress, stopping just a few inches away from her warm pussy. I don’t dare go any farther, not in the middle of the restaurant anyway. Instead, I make lazy circles with the tips of my fingers, smiling against her lips when I feel the goose bumps form on her skin.

A throat clearing nearby makes me pull away, and I level the waiter with a glower, not appreciating the interruption.

“Il antipasti,” he says before he places the tray of cold cuts in front of us.

“Grazie mille,” Chiara replies without making eye contact with the man.

Ah shit. I made her uncomfortable. I better behave until I can get her alone.

We eat our food and drink our wine, but we both have the same sense of urgency. We don’t linger.

Back in the car, it’s a Herculean effort to keep my hands to myself, but I push through the urge to stop on the side of the road to steal a few more kisses from her.

“I thought today was going to be the worst day of my life,” Chiara says as she sticks her hand out the window.

“I’m glad it didn’t turn out that way. It will only get better from here.”

I sense her stare, so I peel my gaze off the road for a second.

“Cocky, aren’t you?”

“Nope, just being realistic, babe.”

Her nose wrinkles, and she pouts. “Don’t call me that. I hate that endearment.”

“Sorry. What should I call you, then? Chibi?”

“No!” she shouts, and I have to glance at her again.

“Isn’t that what Max called you? I thought it was cute. It fits you.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest and levels me with a glare. “No, it doesn’t. Chibi means small in Japanese, and it’s also a style of caricature where the characters are super cute and tiny.”

“See? It fits you.” I laugh.

“Stronzo!” She hits my arm. “Keep calling me Chibi and you won’t get any booty tonight.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t. What does stronzo mean? I know it can’t be anything good.”

She faces forward and says under her breath, “Asshole.”

I reach out and squeeze her thigh through the skirt of her dress. “I promise I won’t call you Chibi again.”

“Uh, I don’t know. I think you need to grovel a bit more.”

“Is that so? What would you have me do?”

“You’ll have to wait and see. How far are we from your hotel, anyway?”

We both stare at the car’s GPS. We’re ten minutes away from our final destination.

Still too fucking far.

7

Chiara

Despite the red wine making my head fuzzy and the excitement rushing through my veins from being alone with Alistair, when he opens the door to his hotel room, my stomach twists in knots. I can’t control the sudden shaking of my body. I’ve never done this before. Well, I’ve had hookups but with guys I already knew from school, never with a complete stranger.

Walking into the room, the first thing I see is the massive king-size bed. I swallow the lump in my throat and peel my gaze away from it. All the bravado from before disappears in a cartoonish white cloud. Poof. Gone. I also notice his room is immaculate. God knows the mess I make in my hotel room whenever I travel. I’m not an organized person.

“Would you like something to drink?” Alistair asks.

I turn around and shake my head. “I think I’ve had enough wine to last me a month.”

He stares intently at me before he runs a hand through his hair and says, “Listen, we don’t have to do anything. I’m more than okay if you just want to crash here. I’ll drive you back to your grandparents’ villa tomorrow morning.”

I stop breathing for a second. Did he change his mind?

My expression probably shows my disappointment. He moves closer and brushes my face with a featherlight caress. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

“I-I’m just nervous,” I whisper as I stare at the collar of his shirt.

God, he’s probably noticing the age gap now. As a matter of fact, I don’t know how old he is, but he’s definitely not eighteen anymore. He’d probably run for the hills if he knew my age.

“Chiara, look at me.”

Taking a deep breath, I bring my face up to his, only to be ensnared by his eyes.

He laces his fingers with mine and brings my hand up to his chest. “Can you feel how fast my heart is beating for you?”

“Yes. It’s beating as fast as mine.”

“Why don’t we just talk for a little bit?”

Shaking my head, I take a few steps back until my thighs touch the edge of the bed. Without taking my eyes off him, I reach behind me and pull my dress’s zipper down, letting it drop to the floor in a heap of silk and tulle.

“I’ve had enough talking.”