Rome in Love by Anita Hughes Read Free Book Online Page B

in her hair. He gathered the magazines and slipped them in his backpack. He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. “I came to take you to dinner.”
    *   *   *
    “You didn’t fly to Rome to take me to dinner,” Amelia said, standing on the balcony of the Villa Medici Suite.
    Whit stood beside her, gazing at the outdoor bar and marble fireplace. The balcony had a polished travertine floor and a glass dining room table and leather chairs. Music played on hidden speakers and twinkling lights bathed the space in a yellow glow.
    “Evan has been trying to hire Alex Tomaselli, the top designer at Maserati, for months.” Whit turned his eyes to the skyline. “I volunteered to fly over and close the deal.”
    “That was noble of you.” Amelia giggled, breathing in his Hugo Boss cologne.
    “I have heard Rome has delicious food,” Whit mused, pulling her toward him. “Apparently the pizza is better than in America.”
    “I was going to order room service,” Amelia murmured, pressing herself against his chest.
    “I’d like to take you somewhere where we can talk.” Whit’s eyes suddenly clouded over. “Somewhere quiet where we can eat pasta and drink a bottle of Italian wine.”
    “That sounds lovely.” Amelia felt a pinprick of uneasiness. She turned and gazed at the bright lights of the Colosseum and the wide dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica.
    “The restaurants in Rome stay open late,” Whit continued. “Most people don’t eat dinner until ten P.M .”
    “Is that true?” Amelia whispered, standing on tiptoes. She kissed Whit on the mouth, running her palm over his shirt.
    “That gives us plenty of time to take a nap.” Whit kissed her harder. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the master bedroom. He took off his blazer and folded it over a velvet chair. He turned to Amelia and unzipped her linen dress.
    “Suddenly I don’t feel tired.” Amelia fumbled with his belt and unzipped his slacks. She slipped off her sandals and turned down the cotton sheets.
    Amelia wrapped her arms around him, pulling him on top of her. She wanted to feel his slick thighs against hers, his mouth biting her lips, his hands in her hair. She wanted him to carry her with him, fill her up, take her over the edge.
    Whit paused and looked in her eyes. He stroked her hair and kissed her on the mouth. He opened her legs and pushed inside her. Amelia felt the delicious sensation of letting go, of not thinking of anything except the warmth between her legs. She felt Whit pick up speed, pushing harder until they came together in one long, dizzying thrust.
    “I’m still not tired,” she whispered, tucking herself against his chest. “But I’m suddenly starving.”

 
    chapter five
    Amelia took Whit’s hand and skipped along the cobblestones. She wore a red silk dress and gold sandals. Her hair was fastened with a gold clip and she wore Whit’s diamond teardrop earrings.
    They had slipped out the revolving doors of the Hassler and run down the Spanish Steps. Now they strode down an alley and approached a yellow building with marble columns. They opened the iron gate and descended the steps to a green door.
    “Where are we?” Amelia asked, her eyes adjusting to the dark.
    “I asked the concierge to recommend the most intimate restaurant in Rome and they suggested Il Gabriello.” Whit stood in the stone entry. “It’s in the basement of a seventeenth-century palazzo. The staff is discreet and they serve the best ricotta ravioli and truffled omelets in the city.”
    Amelia saw a small room with brick arches and a low ceiling. Square tables were set with white tablecloths and sterling silverware. There was a floor-to-ceiling wine rack and a wall filled with murals of heirloom tomatoes and green peppers and purple eggplant.
    They sat at a table in the back and ate fresh herb bread dipped in olive oil. The waiter brought prosciutto de Parma and veal scallops cooked in white wine. They shared a plate of bresaola and