Page 54 of Robert

Sensations flowed through her body, until she was trembling. She had sat there, looking at him around the stove and felt the powerful desire taking over.

Her body arched and before long, he was following her headlong into oblivion that seemed to go on forever.

Her legs slid off his waist and she would have melted to the floor, if he had not kept his arms around her waist.

“I cannot feel the lower part of my body…” she murmured into his chest.

“My knees are still weak. I have no idea how they are holding us up.” He said with a chuckle. His heart was still thudding, and his body was flushed.

Wrapping a hand under her buttocks, he carried her to the dining table and sat with her still wrapped around him.

The scent of the meal had permeated the kitchen, reminding them they were still hungry, but neither of them had the energy to move. She was curled into him, her face pressed against his throat.

Tenderness filled his entire being and he was contented to stay this way with her forever. If she was not in love with him- surely, she was more than halfway there. He longed to tell her how he felt and was impatient with the wait.

“I’m hungry.”

His chuckle vibrated against her skin and had her smiling.

“For food this time?”

“Yes. I am actually starving.”

“Let’s get you fed.”

They got dressed and ate around the dining table. Dusk had fallen by then and the silvery moon was bathing the trees with its lovely light giving everything an ethereal look.

“It’s delicious.” She murmured, biting into the pasta and the ground beef in delight. “Is there a secret ingredient involved?”

His eyes twinkled as he picked up his glass of white wine. “Something like that and I’m not sharing.”

“That’s fine with me.” She scooped up some more and savored the taste inside her mouth, eyes closing in enjoyment. “You could do this for a living. This is by far the best pasta I have ever tasted, and I have been to several Italian restaurants, in Italy and New York.”

“Which ones?”

When she named the ones, she had dined at, he laughed softly. “Rossi’s is one of ours.”

She stared at him with rounded eyes. “It’s one of the most popular restaurants in Manhattan.”

“As well as in Rome, Venice and Milan.” He said mildly, laughing at the look on her face.

“How did you get involved in the restaurant business?”

He scooped up pasta and chewed before responding. “The owner – well part owner is a friend of mine.” Putting his fork down, he leaned back and picked up his wine. Antonio was an alcoholic, a man broken after losing his wife and child to a vehicular accident. I met him while I was in Milan ten years ago.

I was there to broker a deal with a textile company. The deal was not going well, and I was getting frustrated. I decided to take a walk and that is when I happened to walk into this dingy diner.

The place was empty with only a guy sitting at one of the tables nursing a drink.” He smiled reflectively. “I asked him if he was open for business, and he told no at first and then said he could whip me up something.”

He shook his head. “There was something about him that had me staying and when he brought me the meal, I think it was primavera, it was so good that I ate everything. Then he started talking and I listened. I heard a man who had reached the end of his rope.

The restaurant was failing, and he was honest enough to admit that after the tragedy, he had not put in much effort.”

His eyes twinkled as he noticed her intense interest.

“Want to hear the rest?”

“What do you think?”

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