Page 12 of Dating the Billionaire
She could feel the heat of his breath whisper across her skin as his mouth opened. Before she could touch it, he spoke, “We’re here.”
The car braked, and she lurched that little bit forward. Their mouths touched—for just a second—not in a kiss but more of a collision. She felt a jolt, too, not of pain but of passion. It surged through her, stunning her.
But then the back door opened, and they pulled away from each other, chuckling. Matteo stepped out first, then extended his hand to her, to assist her from the back.
She stepped onto the sidewalk, which she expected to be outside his hotel. But it was an exclusive restaurant instead. The place had a Michelin rating, so getting a reservation had proved impossible—at least for her.
“Are we really eating here?” she asked in surprise. But then, given the way he’d been treated at the gallery, she shouldn’t have been surprised.
“I told you the hors d’oeuvres at the opening were truly just appetizers,” he said. “We will enjoy our main course here.”
“But if you don’t have a reservation...”
The front door opened before he reached it, and a maître d’ stepped onto the sidewalk. “Mr. Rinaldi!” he exclaimed. “I did not know you were in town.”
“I should have called,” Matteo began.
But the older man waved his hand. “Of course you do not need to phone ahead,” he said. “Your table always awaits you. And you...” He took Blair’s hand and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.
At the gallery everyone had treated Matteo like royalty while ignoring her. That was not the case at the restaurant. The maître d’ showed them to the table in the back that looked, just as he’d said, as if it were always held open explicitly for Matteo. A waiter rushed to fill their water glasses while a sommelier brought out a few bottles of wine.
Food appeared before they even ordered. Blair’s taste buds were treated like royalty, too. Focaccia served withribollitawas the first course, followed with the region’s specialty, osso buco alla Milanese. The veal shank, served atop a mound of creamy risotto, was so tender she didn’t even have to chew; it dissolved in her mouth. A moan of pleasure slipped out of her lips.
A spark ignited in Teo’s dark eyes. It might have been just a reflection of the candle burning on the table before them, but then he leaned closer and murmured, “This meal is just an appetizer, too,” he said, his deep voice gruff.
With desire?
Did he intend to make her his main course?
“I won’t have room for anything else,” she warned him. Then she laughed and said, “Although, as an Amazon, I should.”
He chuckled. “I hope you did not let my sister’s jealous comments affect you.”
She shook her head. “I’ve heard worse.”
His brow furrowed. “I don’t understand why. You are so beautiful.”
“Let’s just say that some people are threatened by strong, independent women.” Especially in the world she’d chosen to enter.
“I find strong, independent women exciting,” he said.
His saying that excited her, making her pulse leap again like when he’d touched her in the limo. He was so good looking, so charming...
He reached for her hand, turned it over in his and ran his thumb across the calluses. “You work hard,” he said—with respect.
She smiled. “I work out hard,” she said. She loved lifting weights. “I need to in order to work off meals like this.”
“I know other ways...” he began, but then the dessert came: a big crystal bowl of tiramisu with two spoons.
She didn’t protest when Teo lifted the spoon he’d dipped into the rich dessert to her mouth. She closed her lips around the decadent taste. The coffee had a bite to it that complemented the creamy mascarpone and spongy ladyfingers. Another moan slipped out of her lips.
And Teo leaned toward her, his mouth moving close to hers. His lips didn’t touch hers, though. Only the tip of his tongue, as he licked a trace of cream from the corner of her mouth.
She moaned again at his teasing her. She’d wanted to kiss him in the car; now she wanted to kiss him even more. But the chef appeared at their table, and they focused on him, complimenting the wonderful dishes he’d prepared.
Maybe Matteo was a part owner or full owner of the restaurant like he was of the gallery, because a check never appeared before they left, sliding again into the back seat of the limousine. Teo didn’t sit beside her this time but across from her, his dark gaze intent on her face.
“What?” she asked.
