Mena
I almost ran from the table when Stefano Fanucci sat on the opposite side of me, but it turned out to be a good thing—because I didn’t have to escape Domenico’s glance for much longer.
The two were engrossed in their own conversation while I kept busy with Alessio. He couldn’t keep his hands by himself, and managed to touch my thigh every five minutes.
Of course I had to push him away because he was unaware what he could do to me. Just one touch was enough to make me a hopeless waterfall.
He removed his hand from my thigh and transferred some food from his plate to mine. “Eat,” he commanded softly as a warm smile appeared on his lips.
“I am eating,” I said, looking down at my already full plate. If I ate any more, I was afraid I would explode.
“Yes, but not enough,” Stefano chim
