The Italian Heir by Camilla Stevens EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Camilla Stevens
- Language: English
- Genre: Multicultural & Interracial Romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
VIOLET
This is so, so bad.
Absolutely sinful.
“Mmmm,” I moan.
The pleasure running through me is positively orgasmic. I close my eyes
to savor the sensation. The heat of the morning sun baking my exposed skin,
which is already naturally a deep brown. The feel of the sweat that is just
beginning to bead. The soft murmur of lyrical Italian in my ears.
Better than sex.
The taste of chocolate decadence my tongue dances with definitely
proves that truth. Especially considering my personal experience the past few
months—or lack thereof. I roll the gelato around in my mouth, savoring the
dark chocolate flavor as it tickles my tastebuds. It melts from the heat of my
tongue, and I greedily swallow every last drop of the creamy spoonful.
I shouldn’t be this bad so early in the morning. But the shop was already
open and when in Naples….
Besides, it’s a special occasion. This is the last day on the weeklong
whirlwind Italian trip I’m taking with my friend Claudia. In two weeks I
finally start a real job after a year of “freelancing,” which has been my fancy
term for “unemployed.”
I’m also a “free woman,” which has been my fancy term for
“unceremoniously dumped.” I deserve this gelato. I’ll worry about my hips
when I get back to Seattle tomorrow night. Today, indulgence rules supreme.
I open my eyes to take another spoonful.
That’s when I see him.
Now, my pupils are just as stimulated as my tastebuds have been. The
man sitting across from me in the small outdoor seating area practically oozes
sex.
Tall? Check.
Dark? Check.
Handsome? Double check.
He stares back at me with an intense gaze that makes me feel like I’m the
scoop of gelato he wants to run his tongue over. I press my thighs together
underneath my white sundress.
Like most of the Italian men I’ve seen during this trip, he’s well dressed.
There’s a definite edge to this man that hardens some of that metrosexual
style. His white, button-up shirt lies smooth against the hard curves of his
muscular shoulders and chest. The sleeves are rolled up to expose his strong
forearms. They’re covered with just enough dark hair to evince the
testosterone running through his body, but not so much they take him right
past the line into caveman territory. His dark pants cling to lean, hard thighs
slightly spread open as he sits at one of the tables near the gelato shop.
He certainly wasn’t sitting there when I first sat down. I never would
have had the gall to be so perfectly gluttonous, stuffing my face with
chocolate, moaning with complete abandon, if someone this gorgeous was
nearby. Something about this city in particular rips any semblance of
decorum and reserve away from me. Even back home in Seattle I wouldn’t
behave like this, though I have yet to find a man there who looks like this
one.
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