“I’m seeing if I can get you a seat in first class with me, and if not, I’m getting moved to coach.”

“Ben, no, that’s silly. I’m fine in coach.” It was Fiona’s way of pointing out my place.

He and the agent exchanged a few more tense words and then he pulled out his wallet and handed her his credit card.

“You don’t have to do this; first class is expensive.”

“I want to, baby. Let me do this.” His hand found mine and he laced our fingers together.

I nodded, seeing that he wasn’t going to be deterred. It did feel nice to be looked after like this, though. And I’d never sat in first class before.

Soon we were seated in the wide, leather seats of the plane’s first tow, sipping champagne from crystal stemware. First class blew my expectations out of the water. Instead of having a cramped, smelly seat with someone bumping my arm and stealing my armrest, Ben and I lounged and chatted, sipped champagne, and nibbled on salted almonds. Before I knew it, we were deplaning and en route to our hotel.

* * *

“There’s someone I want to introduce you to,” Ben said, kicking off his shoes.

I’d envisioned a romantic candlelit dinner in the heart of Milan, but I nodded. “Okay.”

“Angelo and Rosa own a winery just outside the city. I haven’t seen them in years. We’ll have a tour and dinner, if that sounds okay to you.”

“Yes. Of course. I just need to shower.”

He nodded. “Will an hour work? I’ll call ahead.”

“An hour’s fine.” I’d have to hustle; I needed to shave, too.

Fifty-seven minutes later, I emerged from the marble bathroom showered and made up, dressed in a black pencil skirt, strappy heels, and a silver beaded tank top. Ben was lounging across the bed, reading a novel he’d picked up at the airport. I grabbed my little diamond-studded earrings left to me by my grandmother and stood in front of the bureau mirror to put them in. Ben rose from the bed, coming up behind me to sweep my hair over one shoulder, and planted soft kisses against the back of my neck.

“Mmm, that feels nice.” I dropped my head to rest against his shoulder and his arms came around me.

“You look beautiful.”

Our reflections staring back at me were a study in contrasts. Ben was a foot taller than me and strikingly handsome. The plain brunette I saw with him wasn’t beautiful to me, but I was glad he thought so.

Ben slipped on his loafers. His two-minute getting-ready ritual left him looking amazing, as usual. He was dressed in dark chinos and a polo shirt rolled up at the sleeves. He looked casual yet still gorgeous.

We hailed a cab and were en route to the countryside, holding hands in the backseat. Homes and buildings dotted the rolling hills, which soon turned into an expanse of leafy green trees unlike any we had back home.

“So how do you know Angelo and Rosa?” I asked.

“Rosa is a friend of my mom’s from a long time ago. They used to model together during Milan Fashion Week. And now she runs a winery with her brother. I usually try to visit when I’m in town.”

I turned to face him. “She’s not the one you . . . lost your virginity to, is she?”

Ben laughed loudly, catching the attention of our cab driver in the mirror. “No.”

I wasn’t sure what was so funny about that, but when we arrived thirty minutes later and Rosa greeted us in the driveway, I understood. She was roughly fifty years old and time had not been kind to her. She was a large woman. She’d probably been quite attractive in her youth, but her face was now lined with deep wrinkles from working in the sun.

She pulled me into her arms while speaking in Italian to Ben. He laughed and conversed with her, though you could tell the language didn’t come as naturally to him as French. He struggled for words and nodded along. I worried that I’d be left out tonight if she and her brother spoke only Italian. Extra wine for me then. Rosa held me at arm’s length, surveying me from head to toe.

“So nice to see Ben with a real woman,” she said at last, her English heavily accented.

I wasn’t sure if I should take offense or thank her for the compliment. I chose the second. Ben’s arm looping around my waist sealed the deal. He was proud to introduce me to people he considered family friends.

“Emmy’s as real as they come.” He pressed a soft kiss to my temple.

Angelo came strolling out of the house, a straw hat atop his head, and joined us, hugging and kissing both Ben and me.

His English wasn’t quite as clear as Rosa’s, but at least I wouldn’t struggle tonight.

“Everything set up?” Ben asked, nodding toward a barn in the distance. I wondered what he had planned.

“Yes, please, go, enjoy,” Angelo said. “And we’ll see you for dinner in an hour or so.”

After greeting us, they shuffled back into the winery to attend to their customers. It was a beautiful day and there were several cars in the parking lot. Ben said we’d have dinner with them later, once the winery tours were done for the day. He took my hand and led me toward an old barn on the edge of the property.

The barn appeared to be several hundred years old. It was dimly lit and cool inside. Ben brought me to the back, where we walked down several steps to a rustic wine cellar. Stone floors and shelving units stacked with wine bottles lined the walls. There was a small round table set up in the center of the room with two bar stools, and the soft glow of white Christmas lights strung from the ceiling made the room romantic and alluring. On top of the table were a bottle of chilled white wine resting in a marble ice bucket along with a platter of assorted cheeses and sliced meats. It was a lovely, romantic gesture.

I glanced back at Ben. “Did you arrange this?”

He nodded, silently watching me. “Sort of a private tasting. I thought this might be more relaxing than joining one of their tours.”

Very thoughtful of him. He pulled out a stool and motioned for me to sit. Once we were both seated, Ben uncorked the bottle and poured us each a glass of wine.

“Cheers.” He clinked his glass to mine, his dark eyes still watching me.

“Cheers,” I murmured, bringing the glass to my lips. It reminded me of our first date, sharing a bottle of wine and some polite conversation. Of course, now we were much more well acquainted. And I felt slightly more comfortable around him, though he still sent my pulse spiraling out of control.

We sipped our wine and nibbled on delicious cheeses while Ben told me some of the vineyard’s history. It had been in the family for sixty years and run by the various relatives during that time. I liked that family values seemed to be alive and well in Italy. Big family dinners and running businesses together were the norm. It reminded me of the South in some ways. Soon the bottle was empty and Ben rose from his seat to select another from the hundreds surrounding us in the room.

I ventured over to where he was closely inspecting a bottle. “I’m guessing you’d like this rosato.” The word rolled from his tongue with his Italian pronunciation. “It’ll be fruity and light.”

“And it’s pink,” I added, brilliantly.

“Yes it is.” He smiled at me sweetly. “My favorite color.”

I raised a brow. “Pink is your favorite color?”

His hand pressed between my thighs, stroking delicately. “Pink is definitely my favorite color.” He smiled devilishly.

Whoa.

Setting the bottle down on the shelf, Ben leaned in closer, bringing his hand to the nape of my neck to pull my lips to his. He kissed along my mouth, jaw, and cheeks. Feeling lightheaded from the wine and the rush of blood pounding in my ears, I clutched his bicep. It was warm and solid under my palm.

He placed sweet, tender kisses all over my lips and neck. He took his time seducing me. It was impossible not to fall under his spell. He lingered at my neck, trailing kisses down the column of my throat, stopping at my chest. I felt his teeth graze my collarbone, and darts of pleasure shot down to my breasts, where I desperately wanted to feel his mouth. I squirmed against him, still clutching his biceps, brushing my breasts against his chest. “Ben . . . we can’t here. . . .” I breathed against his mouth.

“Are you only brave enough to tease me through text?” He trailed a finger along my jawline. “Where’s your courage, sexy girl?”

I wasn’t sexy or courageous. But Ben made me feel like maybe I could be. I glanced around at our surroundings. At least it seemed semiprivate. And if our hosts were busy with customers . . .

He dragged his fingertips down my spine, his knuckles brushing past each vertebra, lighting my skin on fire while he nipped at my lips. He was so unrushed, so sexy and in control, while I felt like I was burning up.

I gripped him through his pants and found him already rock hard. When my hand wrapped around him we each let out a simultaneous groan. Ben roughly pulled my tank top down, revealing my black lacy bra, and pressed a kiss to the center of my chest. My heart thumped steadily as I looked down and watched. His full lips traveled across my breastbone, pressing delicious kisses. He dragged down the cups of my bra, exposing my breasts to his mouth. His warm tongue circled one nipple while his eyes lifted to watch my response. His tongue flicked back and forth over the sensitive peak and I let out a soft groan. Ben responded by sucking my breast into his mouth, kissing and licking me greedily.

“You taste so fucking good, baby.” His hand caressed one breast while his tongue stroked the other. I was lost to the sensations, my panties growing damp and my knees already trembling. My fingers wound their way into his hair, holding him in place as he worshipped my breasts.