We leave the restaurant through a back door that Rachel directs us to avoid the paparazzi waiting in front. We make it to his car unharmed and Ettore quickly maneuvers the car onto Highway One. We drive in silence, the air in the car crackles with the reciprocated s****l tension between us.
I am not sure where we're going, but I am smart enough to know that we both want the same thing right now. No words are necessary. I can see it in the way Ettore grips the steering wheel. In the invisible waves of anticipation and need rolling off him.
We finally got off the highway on the outskirts of Pacific Palisades and turned onto a street two blocks from the beach. Ettore parks in front of a Tuscan-style house and gets out of the car without saying a word. Your home, perhaps? By the glow of a st
