Italy is all about food, about pleasure and when Sarah is invited to lunch with Matteo de Serrone, all that English restraint just melts away.
Vivid colour, the scent of herbs and the sun-baked earth. The touch of a man’s lips for the first time in months.
Languorous in the still heat of the early afternoon, lulled by the faint hum of drowsy insects, mesmerised by Matteo’s dark eyes gleaming softly in the shade urging her to this one last pleasure, she leaned forward the inch required to take the grape, closing her lips around it. Around the tips of his fingers.
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