“God, yeah,” I whimpered, cursing myself for the show of weakness. He did it to me every damn time, though. If I was standing, my knees would have buckled.

I watched as his hand moved to my thigh, and he squeezed hard. I opened my legs like the hussy I was, giving him access to my ache. His hand teased up and down my jeans, and I could feel every touch on my pussy. Needing more, I gripped his hand and pressed it to my body.

His lips met my ear. “Greedy,” he whispered, and I melted.

I moved my hand as he continued to rub with the occasional pinch in the perfect spot. I moaned and moved my hips in tune with his rough movements as my body heated to overload. His hand then moved quickly away.

“What!”

He smiled at me and winked, fucking winked.

“We’re here.” He leaned in close. “That’ll get you primed for me later.”

“You’re not leaving me like this all through dinner,” I whined, but I didn’t care because my body needed release. Bad. I couldn’t concentrate on all that was Jag when my body was humming for him.

“Oh, I can and will. Come.” He held out his hand to me, which I tentatively grabbed and he pulled me out of the car.

In front of us was an old mom and pop shop that made wonderful Italian food. I had been there several times, and the place was always packed. My stomach growled, and Jag’s deep, throaty laugh had me blushing.

“See, I need to feed you first.”

I cut my eyes up at him, giving him my fuck-you stare, but when my stomach growled again, I relented and followed him into the place.

“Ah, Mr. Maratelli, so glad you could be with us tonight.” A short, balding man with a white, button-up shirt and black pants greeted us a bit too cheerfully. I knew he owned the place, and my dad had talked to him many times, but I didn’t really know him. “And, Miss Lambardoni, it is a pleasure.” When he lifted his hand, I extended mine to his. He kissed it softly, and I smiled. “Come!” He clapped his hands energetically.

Hulk and Scraper waited by the door, not following us, which I thought was odd.

I looked up at Jag who silently shook his head. Then his hand came to the small of my back, setting it on fire as we walked through the doors and into the restaurant where I gasped loudly. Oh, my God. Shock resonated through me as I took in the room around me.

Not a soul was in sight. No one. The only thing in the large room was a small table in the center with two chairs and a bottle of wine.

I turned to Jag, my jaw a bit slack. “You did this?” I couldn’t help the surprise in my voice. Really? This man kept turning me inside out. As if dinner with him wouldn’t be romantic enough, he had to clear the entire place out so it was just us.

“I did.” He led me to the table and pulled out the chair for me to sit in then took the chair next to mine.

A single lavender rose was placed in front of me, and I had no idea where it had come from. It wasn’t on the table two minutes before. My heart clenched as I took the rose from Jag’s extended hand.

“Thank you.” I smelled the rose, the scent invading my senses. I loved this smell. Part of me wanted to clutch the rose to my chest and hold onto it for dear life.

His hand brushed my cheek, and his thumb tugged at my bottom lip. “You are more than welcome. You deserve this and so much more.”

My heart fluttered. I wanted to tell it to stop, but I was too far gone, too lost in his eyes to care that my heart would be shattered into bits. I loved every second of this.

I reached up and pulled his face to mine, kissing him with all the thank you I could muster. When I pulled away, his face was lit up with lust and there was a spark in his eye, one that I’ve caught myself having in the mirror as I thought of Jag. I wanted to pull on it, drag it out of him, but I didn’t. I just enjoyed that small moment.

“I ordered ahead. Are you ready to eat?” I nodded silently, afraid of the words that would leave my lips at that moment.

Jag glanced over at the waiters who came out from behind closed doors with food in hand, setting one plate down of salad and a bowl with soup. “The soup is vegetable minestrone, and you have Caesar salad.” As the waiter moved quickly away, I looked down and quirked my brows, wondering where the hell the other food was.

“Is there a reason there is only one plate and one bowl?”

Jag grabbed my hand, his eyes penetrating mine. “How else am I going to feed you?” His smooth voice slid through me. I shivered, remembering the last time he had fed me. That warmth in my body spread like wild fire.

“Do you have a thing for this?” I raised both brows in question, trying to play it off. I liked this, really liked this. The fact he was taking time to care for me, again, was almost too much for me to take.

“Doesn’t your father feed your mother?” He already knew the answer.

“On occasion. Not so much anymore.”

“That you see. You no longer live there. I bet you he does it very often.” Jag picked up the spoon and blew gently on the soup, cooling it slightly. Then he extended the spoon to my mouth, and I opened willingly as thoughts swirled in my head at the ramifications of his previous words. Did he really feel this way toward me?

As the spoon slid into my mouth, I closed my eyes, and the taste of the soup exploded on my tongue. I opened them to see him watching me intently. He took a bite himself and then gave me another. The sexual and emotional tension was so thick I didn’t think a damn hacksaw could get through it.

He continued to feed me bite after bite of food, and each time the fork or spoon touched my lips, sounds escaped my throat that I hadn’t known existed. The food was impeccable, and the company was even better.

“I want to know more about you,” I whispered quietly.

“What do you want to know, dolcezza?”

I quivered at the endearment.

“Mother, father, siblings?” Might as well start simply.

“Mother is back in California. Father—well, you know about him. My mother is a wonderful woman, very straight forward and doesn’t take a lot of shit from anyone. She’s an amazing cook, and I love her to death. No siblings.”

I smiled, feeling the same way about my own mom.

“Let’s try this. What’s your favorite movie?”

“Ah, dolcezza, now the hard questions.” His smile filled up the room, and my heart exploded in my chest. This one was gonna hurt; there was no stopping it. I inwardly cringed and jumped for joy at the same time. It was like I had a little flag inside me that read Bring on the Pain.

The light conversation continued to flow, and more than once we laughed. It was one of the most enjoyable meals and nights, excluding last night, I had ever had. Relaxed. Calm. Fun.

“Are you ready for dessert?”

I raised my brow. “What are we having?”

He grinned. “You if I had my way.” His finger swiped over my lip, fire igniting. My body did a full shiver. “Instead, I have tiramisu for you.” He snapped his fingers and a waiter brought out the dessert.

My mouth watered. Maybe I would just have a little.

“Ah. You like? I can tell by your flushed face.”

“Yes.”

The fork was right at my lips, the taste of the confection on the tip of my tongue, when all hell broke loose. The side door burst open, and everything happened so quickly it blurred.

“Floor. Now,” Jag barked.

I immediately listened, climbing under the lonely table for minuscule cover. Jag stood in front of me, and all I could see through his legs was a man with designer loafers and pressed dress pants stepping in front of him about four feet away. My thoughts flickered to Scraper and Hulk. Why the hell hadn’t they warned us? Shit. I hoped they were all right. Thoughts of blood seeping from Scraper’s body crept in my head, and I quickly shook my head to clear the mental images, listening intently to every word.