The Devil Served Desire Read Online Free PDF

giving her a second thought. Then there'd been something about a diet.
    Well, hell, she was holding an antipasto. She'd covered the diet thing. And Dante did need to take his mind off the difficult day he'd had. She'd be doing him a favor.
    Yeah, that was it.
    The violin music continued, the melody carrying along the air like hummingbirds around them. The vibrations of the sound intensified everything stirring within Maria.
    "Dance with me, Maria," Dante said, his voice low and intimate.
    "Here? In the middle of the sidewalk?"
    "It's late, there aren't any cars. I can't think of a better place." He took her hands in his. He had a large, strong grip, firm around her own, as if he could hold her up, no matter the storm. "Or a prettier partner."
    "I'm not very good."
    "I'm not going to care." With his other hand, he took the Styrofoam container and put it on a stoop beside them, then wrapped his arm around her waist.
    Had she really objected to his touch? She had to have been crazy. Thinking with a half-starved brain. Because Dante felt good. No, he felt damned good.
    Crazy Carlo segued smoothly into an aria Maria had heard before. Veracini was the composer, she thought absently, then wondered why she even cared about the detail when Dante was right there gazing so intently at her.
    He stepped to the right and Maria moved with him, their bodies pressing together with the movement. The volcano in her gut began to erupt into hot, molten arousal. The music, deep and heartfelt, swirled around them, like an ancient rhythm of desire. She tried to step to the left, to pull him with her, but he insistently moved again in the same direction as before, completing a circle.
    His hand drifted down to the small of her back, pressing against the valley just above her buttocks. A nerve existed there, and he'd hit it, igniting something within her that Harry hadn't even been able to get a smolder on, despite his ten-minute effort at starting a fire with his stick and no kindling.
    Dancing in the street in the middle of March was an insane idea. And yet, it was the exact kind of thing Maria knew her friends wouldn't be surprised to see her doing. She, of all people, was the least conventional, the one voted Most Likely to Do Something Unexpected.
    This was about as unexpected and unconventional as a woman could get while staying fully clothed.
    "It's a game, isn't it?" Dante murmured against her ear.
    "What do you mean?"
    "Dancing. I can feel you, vying for control at the same time I'm trying to lead, like the gentleman I am."
    "You are not a gentleman."
    "How do you know? You haven't given me a chance to prove it to you."
    "I can feel it, right here." She pressed a hand against his chest, above his heart. His eyes widened and she knew who was leading whom right now. "You, Mr. Del Rosso, have ulterior motives."
    He grinned. "I'd be a fool if I didn't."
    "Spoken like a true gentleman." She smiled.
    He leaned forward, his mouth against her ear. "Let me lead, Maria. And allow yourself to be traditional." The violin feathered up and down the notes, providing an undertow of emotion and sensuality to his words.
    "I don't like tradition," she replied, trying to resist the melody and him.
    "There's a reason traditions have been around forever," he whispered. "Because they work."
    Then he took the lead anyway, circling her around a lamppost into the deserted street. The classical refrain brought them together, then apart as Dante showed her the steps he was creating, mirroring the message of Crazy Carlo's passionate playing.
    Dante swung her to the right, bringing his pelvis back against hers. Watch out Pompeii—Maria's hormones were about to overtake the city and drown all reasonable doubts.
    "You're not a bad dancer," she admitted.
    He grinned. "And here I thought you only wanted me for my pasta."
    She spun away from him, but his grip on her was firm and he twirled Maria back into his arms, her back against his chest, her buttocks against a volcano of