Somebody's Angel (#5 in a Military Romance / BDSM Romance series) (Rescue Me) (73 page)

Marc nodded to the server, who then poured a glass of wine for each of them. She expected to be given a menu to peruse, but again in perfect Italian, Marc asked for the specialties of the house. She loved hearing him lapse into his native language. Nothing sexier.

He’d ordered for them both a specialty popular in the region where he’d grown up. Marc glanced at her, lifted his glass, and held it up in a toast, prompting her to pick up her glass as well. Continuing to speak Italian, he said, “To new beginnings.”

They clinked glasses, and she took a sip expecting dry wine and schooling her expression so as not to make a face. Surprisingly, it was semi-dry and fruitier than Marc usually preferred.

“Delizioso!”
She took a bigger sip.

“Go easy on that,
amore
. You need to get some food in your stomach first.”

“
Sì, Signore
.”

The atmosphere seemed to be bringing out her inner Italian, as well. She stifled a giggle and took another tinier sip.

The waiter brought the
antipasto misto
out, and they filled their small plates with meats, stalks of fresh fennel, and marinated black olives. She dipped a stalk of fennel into the plate of herbed olive oil and took a bite. The oil must have been a first pressing and straight from the grove’s private reserve stock.

“Too bad we don’t have a place like this closer to home.”

Marc smiled enigmatically. She planned to enjoy this meal with him to the fullest and see if she could get him to confess where they were. That he’d go to this much effort to take her to Italy warmed her heart, even though she hadn’t wanted to come here for a vacation alone. She’d wanted to be with him as he faced his birth father—his past.

Don’t think about that; it’s over and done. Life offered up these special times rarely, and for many, they flitted by without being noticed. She planned to enjoy it to the fullest.

She picked up a piece of bread, dipped it in the oil, and stretched her arm across the table until she placed it against his mouth. He opened for her and bit the crusty bread in half before she pulled her arm back and plopped the remainder into her mouth. Marc reciprocated by placing an olive in her mouth. The sensual nature of feeding each other totally turned her on.

A saffron-flavored
risotto
was served
primo
—she couldn’t help but lapse into Italian with such authentic food—and was followed by the rich veal dish,
ossobuco in bianco
. She wondered if the chef would share the recipe with her. She tried to identify the ingredients. Definitely lemon, garlic, parsley—and did she detect cinnamon? Intriguing.

“Have you determined the recipe yet?”

Angelina smiled sheepishly. “Sorry. Hazard of the trade. I can’t eat anything without trying to figure out how to make it myself.”

“Why don’t we ask if the chef will allow you a tour of the kitchen?”

Angelina’s mouth dropped. “Do you think they would give me just a quick a peek inside?” To be inside an authentic kitchen in the mother country—nirvana! The times she’d come to Sicily she’d been a teen and spent most of her time in Nonna’s kitchen.

“Once they learn what a talented chef you are in your own right, they’ll be asking you to share recipes for some of your specialties.”

Despite his supportive, but encouraging teasing, she couldn’t help but think about the possibility of touring the kitchen. Then she remembered they were here on a date. She needed to focus on Marc, not her own selfish wants.

“How are things going at the store?”

Marc shrugged. “Brian keeps things going, with or without me. I do expect to see an increase in bookings as the weather continues to improve. We’re between seasons now.” Marc speared a piece of the veal and extended the fork to her mouth. “Open.”

She lost herself in his green eyes as he fed her. She closed her eyes and savored the tender meat, chewing slowly before swallowing.

“I see this dish excites you.”

“You know food can be better than sex for me, Marc—and sometimes combining the two is best of all.”

Marc swallowed hard. “Are you throwing down some kind of gauntlet, pet?”

She grinned. “Could be.”

“Perhaps you’ve gone too long without sex.”

“Yes, I have been neglected lately. What do you plan to do about it?”

A cloud passed over his face. “About falling asleep on the flight…”

Realizing she’d upset his ego, she reached across the table and touched his hand. “You were put through hell less than a month ago, spent a week in aftercare, and between packing the house and going to the wedding, you haven’t really been taking it easy like Doctor McKenzie ordered. I think I’m amazed you aren’t a zombie at this point.” She squeezed his hand. “But if you play your cards right, I’ll let you make up for lost time tonight.”

He grinned. “
Grazie
.” But soon he grew serious again. After a pause, he said, “It’s just that, as your Dom, it was my responsibility to meet
your
needs.”

She brushed the pad of her thumb across his knuckles. “Marc, sometimes the Dom needs to remember the submissive’s major need in the dynamic, which is to serve her Dom and to take care of
his
needs.”

He didn’t say anything but picked up a slice of bread and broke off a piece before placing it against her lips. He had a major problem with letting her know he even had needs. Was he trying to silence her by keeping her mouth full? He pressed harder against her lips until she opened to let him put the bread inside her mouth.

“Marc—” Once she opened her mouth, he placed the bread inside.

“Be a good girl. Don’t talk with your mouth full. Chew.”

She glared at him but did as he told her. The focaccia was to die for, and she took her time enjoying it. They had such a long way to go in learning to communicate with each other, but she hoped they still had lots of time to improve.

He grew serious and reached into his pocket. Her heart stopped beating. Was he going to…? His hand stilled a moment before he pulled it back out. Empty.

Silly girl.

What was the matter with her? The romantic ambiance of this place was making her daft. He probably just wanted to make sure he’d put her sash away in his pocket. Still, who could blame her for thinking something was up? He’d gone to such extremes to take her out for nothing but dinner.

When his gaze met hers again, she saw pain, reminding her of the haunted look he bore in the days following the interrogation. Angelina reached across the table. “What is it, Marc?”

The longer he stared at her in silence, the more worried she became. Something was wrong.

Marc grabbed her hand and held it firmly between his. “
Amore
, I have a confession I must make before we go any further.”

No, don’t you dare spoil this moment, Marc!

Improved communication had its place; this wasn’t that place! She wanted to remain immersed in this perfect fantasy, leaving their troubles behind them. Hadn’t he toasted their future only moments ago? She reminded herself he wouldn’t go to all this trouble only to break up. So why did she feel she was hurtling along on the downhill side of a roller coaster?

“I must be honest with you about some things from my past, things I’m just beginning to understand myself.”

Wait! Marc wanted to divulge some of his secrets? Now
this
had been a fantasy of hers for a long while. She washed down the piece of bread with a gulp of wine.

“Before you say anything more, Marc, just know that nothing you say will change how I feel about you. But I’m honored you trust me enough to share whatever it is that’s on your mind.”

He didn’t smile. Dread seeped back into her bones. What on earth did he need to divulge?

“The interrogation brought up some things I buried a very long time ago. Buried out of shame and disgust, no doubt.” Marc looked down at their clasped hands and drew a deep breath. His hand shook, and Angelina squeezed it tightly.

“I used to be a poser Dom. The cougars at the resort referred to me as Master Marco.” He paused before meeting her gaze again. “I won’t lie to you. There was a time when the title went to my head. But after training under Adam before we opened the club, I knew I was a master at nothing.”

She felt as if she were peering into his soul. Her heart ached at the insecurity she saw there. How could he think he wasn’t a Dom? He certainly had no problem dominating her.

“Even now, I’m not sure I can be the Dom you need.”

She’d held her words back long enough, holding up her hand to halt any argument. “Marc, don’t you dare try to shut me up. I hate those bitches—and, no I’m not sorry for calling them that—who took advantage of a trusting, vulnerable young man. Makes me wish they were here right now so I could pull out every hair on their heads—and then I’d start on their short hairs.”

She paused long enough to take a deep breath and relax her hand’s grip, which must have removed all circulation from his. Taking another deep, calming breath, she reached up to stroke his cheek. “Marc, your past with those women has nothing to do with you being a Dom, authentic or otherwise. You were a natural Dominant without even being aware of it. Oh, I’ve watched you lately trying to catch yourself from going all Dominant on me twenty-four/seven—asking what my preference might be for something or including me in decisions involving both of us in a significant way. That’s fine. We don’t have or want that kind of dynamic. And, while I appreciate you seeking my input, look at what you did tonight. You ordered wine and dinner for me knowing what I would enjoy and wanting to share a special dish from your homeland.” She pointed to what was left of the veal dish. “And I know this is a favorite dish in Lombardy, because I’ve been paying careful attention to the cuisine of this…
that
region so I can learn to make those dishes for you.”

Once she got started, there was no stopping her. “Look at how you took command of me on this date. The blindfold, the headphones, those were just props.
You
were the one exerting your authority over me, causing that excitement I feel only under your hand. The Dominant in you took charge of me from the time I stepped out of the shower today…yesterday, oh whatever day it was.”

She glanced around, realizing she was speaking rather loudly, but no one seemed the least bit interested in her passionate conversation with Marc, because they all seemed to be having heated discussions of their own.
Dio
love expressive Italians.

She turned her attention to Marc once more. “No matter how either of us became interested in kink, all that matters is that we find what works for us. We set our own limits, our own preferences. I’m not comparing you to any other Doms—as if I could—and you shouldn’t compare me to any other submissives.”

Marc’s lips curved into a tentative smile. “I assure you, no other sub comes even close to comparing to you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a kiss on her palm, all but melting her panties. “I thank you for bringing out the natural Dom in me, because I know what I feel with you is my first taste of dominance. Exerting authority over you excites me and makes me work harder at being a more competent Dom.”

Angelina leaned forward and whispered, “You’re making me wet, Sir.” The look of longing on his face made her smile and relish the power she had over him, as well. She couldn’t wait to get to wherever he planned for them to sleep tonight. “Just know that I place myself in your hands knowing and trusting you will keep me safe and see to my needs. Trust requires nurturing and maintenance, but you know you…”

Marc held up a hand and paused her words. “You showed me you have my back by standing up to Adam and seeing to my needs during and after the interrogation.”

“How did you know—?”

“Adam told me during aftercare. As you know, I don’t trust women easily—but you are in a class by yourself.” He leaned closer, and she did the same. “Just don’t expect me ever to bottom for you again. I’m the Dom in this relationship.” He leaned back in his chair. “I plan to continue to grow into being the best Dom I can be for you as we come to know each other better.”

“You are the only man I would ever consider as my Dom.”

Marc’s moss-green eyes shone brightly in the candlelight. She couldn’t tell if she’d convinced him yet, but as soon as they left here…

After they declined dessert—she couldn’t eat another bite—the server set the check on the table. They sat back in their seats, both breathing a little more heavily. She hoped they were headed somewhere she could express how much this man meant to her.

Marc pulled out his wallet and placed his credit card on the tray. She glanced at the bill, hoping to glean some information about the name or location of the restaurant, but Marc slid the card over the header, blocking the information from view.

“Why so secretive? I thought you were all about revealing secrets today.”

“Your Dom will let you know when you need to know. Anticipation is good for you.”

She smiled. “I like the sound of that ‘your Dom.’”

“Maybe you should get used to it.” He smiled, more relaxed than he’d been most of the meal. After settling the bill, Marc pushed his chair back, picked up the headphones, and stood. “Come, let’s walk off some of this dinner before we head to our ho…go home.”

Angelina smiled at his near slip-up. “Sounds perfect.”

He scooted her chair back, slipped her hand into his, and led her toward the entrance. Thank goodness he didn’t pull out the sash again. She was anxious to get a first glimpse of wherever he had brought her.

When he opened the door, a chilly breeze whipped inside, and she folded her arms over her chest against the cold.

“Wait here.”

Marc exited the restaurant, closing the door behind him. She looked around the foyer and remembered the promise to ask about having a peek inside the kitchen, but Marc must have been distracted by their conversation and forgotten.

The door opened again, and he came inside carrying her shawl. She turned around and let him wrap it around her. He enfolded her in his arms, pressed her against his hard body, and placed a kiss on her neck. Now she had chill bumps for a different reason.