Page 48 of Dangerous Deception

I can’t blame him given the heat of the Italian sun, but the sight of his straining muscles, his sweat-gleaming skin, and the sexy way he stretches while wiping his forehead sends my thoughts into a sinful, dirty spiral.

Do I want him?

It’s just appreciation, it has to be. He’s an attractive man.

But he’s not important.

He’s just a stupidly sexy, golden-skinned, bright-eyed, musculargodwith jeans hanging too low on his hips and miles of bare skin that I could explore with my tongue and teeth.

It’s the first time since the attack that I’ve even entertained the idea of being close to someone since Raffaele has been giving me space and privacy, even in the bedroom. The thought of being touched scared me previously, but out here, things feel different.

I watch him for hours, just admiring how bronzed he looks in the late afternoon sun. He helps people load the baskets into trucks, picks berries from the vines, and laughs along with the gardeners, sharing jokes and stories that I can’t hear.

Then it hits me.

I’ve never heard him laugh before. Not like that.

It’s a beautiful, honest sound that sends tingles through my entire body and alerts me to just how long I’ve been lounging in the sun, gawking at his beauty.

I spend the next few hours cooling off in the swimming pool, swimming until exhaustion tinges my muscles. I then erase all the sexy thoughts of Raffaele from my mind. I blame the heat of the sun and the change of scenery, which made everything feel sexier and more golden than normal.

Until dinner time.

Raffaele arrives wearing a black cotton shirt that sits open across his shoulders. The ends brush against his skin as he moves, and when he stretches across the table to pick up a bottle of wine, the light pants he wears hug his ass like a second skin.

My mouth runs dry.

With thousands of stars twinkling above, light music playing from a nearby stereo, and the subtle ambiance of Italian nightlife, it’s difficult to look anywhere but at him.

“Did you have a good day?” Raffaele asks as he pours me a glass of wine. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for lunch.”

“It was nice. Caterina and I walked the vineyards and I went for a swim.”

After ogling you for a few hours.

“I heard,” Raffaele says softly. “What did you think?”

My cheeks instantly heat up when our eyes meet. “Of?”

“The vineyard?”

Oh.

Right.

“It’s pretty,” I say, my heart racing slightly. “I’ve never been surrounded by so much nature.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The way he holds my gaze, he could be talking about me. Raffaele moves to the other end of the table, lighting the candles as he goes, and then he pours himself a glass of wine. “Taste it. This is homegrown. The best wine you will ever drink.”

Picking up my glass, I watch him over the rim as I take a sip. Sweet, tart red wine spills over my tongue and saliva floods my mouth, chasing the taste. “Wow.”

“Right?” He takes his seat and lifts his own glass, bringing it to his nose. “I don’t claim to be a snob with these things, but the work they do here makes me wish I could spend the rest of my days here.”

“Why don’t you?”

Raffaele chuckles. “Too much to do. Always too much to do.”

He sips his wine. My eyes fall to his sharp jaw and the bob of his throat as he swallows. A small bead of sweat trails down his neck and briefly kisses his collarbone before soaking into his shirt.

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