I wrench my lips from her mouth and lean my forehead against hers, my breath coming hard and fast, matching hers as we try to recover. “I think it’s time for dinner,” I murmur between breaths, amazed that I’m still able to think coherently after a welcome like that.

“You’re a great date, Mr. Alexander,” she says with a grin as we move apart.

“All part of the service,” I add, taking her hand in mine and leading her toward the living area.

After seating her at the table, I bring our plates out from the kitchen.

“I hope you like Italian,” I say, placing the shrimp linguine in front of her before taking my seat.

“I love Italian,” she replies with a huge smile, a genuine one that warms me from the inside. Just her presence relaxes me. Whenever I’m with her I can be myself, without pretense and without expectations. It’s freeing, an exhilarating feeling that I’m finding myself becoming addicted to.

“Wine?” I ask behind my back as I grab the bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge, showing her the label when I return to the table.

“Napa Valley too,” she notes with approval. “Yes, please.” She holds her glass out to me and when I finish pouring, lifts it up to her lips. Then I watch, completely captivated as she expertly studies the wine, her tongue darting out and wetting her lips as she tips the glass and takes her first sip. Looking over at me with hooded eyes, she says, “This is a nice wine, Cal. I’m impressed.”

“Glad I passed the test,” I say wryly, pouring my own glass and taking my seat opposite her.

“I never expected anything less.” She puts her glass down on the table before taking her fork and spearing a shrimp, bringing it up to her mouth.

I’m unable to look away, mesmerized by the subtlety of her movements. So used to overt plays for my attention, I realize that everything Lucia does is effortless. By just being herself, she has captured my attention and reeled me in.

Most of the women I’ve met could learn a lot from her.

“Are you going to watch me eat all night?” she asks, snapping me out of it.

“Can I?” I joke, making her laugh.

“It would at least give me the chance to watch you too.”

I twirl the angel hair pasta around my fork, my eyes glued to Lucia’s as I take my first mouthful, closing my eyes as the taste of shrimp, garlic and parmesan take over my senses. Her answering groan makes the effort worthwhile.

After a meal, which is more foreplay than sustenance, I lean back in my seat, cradling my wine in my hands and staring out toward the bay.

“Callum, are you okay?”

Placing my glass back on the table between us, I run my fingers around the stem of the crystal mindlessly before meeting her gaze. “Sure. What makes you ask?”

“You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Her eyes are full of concern, an adorable crease appearing between her eyebrows as she frowns.

“I received some unfortunate news today regarding a project. It’s just a speed bump, I hope. I’m sorry if I have been terrible company this evening.”

“The meal is lovely. The company is delightful, just preoccupied and in serious need of a good scotch whisky or a rubdown.”

“Can I take both for a hundred?” I chuckle, and her lips curve into a smile.

“There he is. I knew there was a bit of humor in there.” She stands and moves to gather up our plates. I stand and stop her with my hand on her arm.

“Luce, you don’t need to do that. You’re my dinner guest. I do not expect you to clean up. I have a housekeeper for that.”

She pauses and looks around the room pointedly. “I don’t see your housekeeper here right now, so I guess I’ll just help her out. Why don’t you take your wine and we’ll go out onto the balcony? Enjoy the fresh air and that gorgeous view of yours.” She grins and picks up the plates before carrying them all to the kitchen counter.

I watch her, amazed and awed at the confidence she exudes. She seems so comfortable and at ease in my home, which makes me more comfortable having her here. It’s an unusual feeling for someone who isn’t used to, or particularly fond of, having others encroach their space.

Grabbing my wine glass, I walk out onto the balcony as suggested. I brace one arm on the aluminum railing and look up at the full moon encased in the dark midnight blue sky.

Lucia’s footsteps get closer, and just before I turn around her hands land softly on my shoulders, the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin material of my shirt. As her fingers start to gently knead the taut cords of my shoulders and back, I groan loudly and without restraint. She rotates her thumbs in wide circles on my back and I arch my chest forward, pushing her digits deeper and harder into my aching flesh.

“Mmm.” I groan as she moves her body flush against mine, the touch welcomed, desired.

“Hold on to the railing, Callum,” she instructs. With a few more minutes of kneading, I feel the day’s tension leach out of my body, my mind focused solely on the woman whose hands are molding me into the man I should be for her. The momentary loss of control unsettles me and as if she notices my thoughtful pause, she trails her hands down my chest and starts to undo the buttons of my shirt at an achingly slow pace.

“You need to let someone take care of you, Callum. You’re wound so tight, it’s a miracle you haven’t become undone.”

“You’re very perceptive,” I note.

“It wasn’t hard to notice. The minute I walked into the room I could see your shoulders locked tight, and your jaw was like stone. I prefer other parts of you to be rigid, not your whole demeanor.”

“I’m sor—”

She reaches the last button and whatever else I was going to say dissipates when Lucia’s warm hands glide back up my torso. She studies the ridges of my chest by touch, my muscles twitching beneath her skin as she eases the shirt apart before placing a soft, almost reverent kiss on my bare neck.

My whole body shudders and I feel her lips curve up against me. “It seems I’m having the right effect.”

“Maybe,” I reply hoarsely, not trusting myself not to say or do something I may regret, or not regret, which could be infinitely worse.

I don’t have time to consider the possibility because as soon as I turn around her hands are at my waist, undoing the top button of my jeans and pushing the denim down my legs.

“What are you doing?” I ask out of curiosity, knowing where I hope this is going but not wanting to be presumptuous. Especially since I’m not the one in control of this situation right now. I’m letting Lucia take the lead this time.

“I want to help you.”

“There’s nothing that will alleviate the tension. Only time and maybe some luck,” I reply wryly.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I have a bevy of tried and true methods to relieve stress.”

I grip the railing tighter as she slides her hands inside my boxer briefs and slowly inches them down over my straining erection before moving them down my legs, tapping on each ankle so that I lift them off the ground, allowing her to remove my clothing. I look down and watch her, marveling at the grace she shows in everything she does, including stripping a man bare.

She glances up at me and our eyes lock together, the intensity of her gaze rendering me motionless.

“Tried and true?” I ask her with a growl, not missing the edge of possessiveness I didn’t know I had.

She doesn’t reply, but heat flares in her eyes as she stands, slowly running her hands up my bare legs. Her fingers splay wide around my hips and stay there as she straightens between my outstretched arms, still gripping the railing as if my life depends on it.

The vulnerable predicament I now find myself in is not lost on me. She’s succeeded in stripping me of my clothes and my control in the space of a few minutes using her hands and mouth as the weapons of choice.