Page 19 of Snowed in with the Professor

I’d debated where to take Grace tonight, even thought about just fixing her dinner at my apartment. We would have been alone… I would have had her all to myself.

But I wanted us to have a private experience, to have people serve us so I could entirely focus on her.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be seen with her, my student, but I wanted this to be personal, intimate. And so, I’d decided to go to Vincenzo’s, the little Italian restaurant owned by a personal acquaintance, one who would close the place down for me so it could just be Grace and me.

I pulled into the parking lot and cut the engine. It was deserted save from three automobiles parked in the very rear. I knew one of them was Vincenzo’s elegant Lexus. The others I had to guess was the waitstaff and chef.

I climbed out of the driver’s seat and made my way around the front of the car to the passenger-side door.

I wanted things to be flawless, wanted this to be unforgettable for her.

Hell, I wanted to show her that even though I was utterly fucking enamored and protective of her, I could be a gentleman.

I could be gentle.

I opened the passenger-side door and held my hand out. I instantly felt excited when she put her smaller hand against mine, curled her fingers into me, and invited me to help her out. My gaze was concentrated on her body as she unfurled from the interior of the car.

Long legs, a tucked-in waist, and nicely proportioned breasts that were squeezed against her cardigan. God, she was fucking gorgeous.

When she was standing, I slammed the car door, wanting nothing more than to bring her close to my body, cup the side of her face, and kiss her soundly. But we had plenty of time for that, so much fucking time. I didn’t want her thinking all I wanted was her body.

I wanted all of her.

Instead, I walked her toward the restaurant. A notice on the front window stated that the restaurant was closed for a private function.

My intimate affair with Grace.

I pulled the door open for her and let her step in before me. The soothing sound of music playing in the background formed the ambiance with the low lighting and the aroma of freshly baked bread.

Vincenzo’s was recognized for its wonderful and authentic Italian cuisine. Featured in several publications and journals since it opened, with reviews all positive, the restaurant always had a huge wait list.

Vincenzo and I went far back to when we were both trying to keep out of trouble so we didn’t embarrass our family.

But that was a whole other story, one I knew I’d have to tell Grace at some point. This wasn’t a one-time occurrence for me where she was concerned, and because of that, I wanted her to know all of me, not just the professor she saw at the front of the classroom.

Not only the man who loved her.

I went up beside Grace and immediately slid my fingers into hers. She looked across at me, a little bit astonished, and I couldn’t help but smile, the innocence pouring from her so intense I actually felt drunk from it.

“Seth,” I heard Vincenzo exclaim as he made his way toward us.

He had a smile on his face and his arms outstretched. His jet-black hair was cut short and slicked back from his face, and his equally dark eyes were furrowed at the edges as he grinned widely.

He embraced me swiftly. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

I pulled back and nodded. “It has been.”

He placed his attention on Grace, and his countenance softened. “Bella,” he replied and took her hand, stooping down and kissing the back of it tenderly. “Welcome.”

If this had been anybody other than Vincenzo, I would’ve been in a blind rage that they had touched Grace and called her lovely. And even though I felt the sting of possessiveness and jealously that Vincenzo had done it, I knew he had no indecent intentions concerning her.

“Please,” he murmured and walked to the side, signaling for us to follow him.

The restaurant was small, with a few of tables in the center of the room, and booths lined up around the edges of the wall.

“I have you set up at our nicest table, with the prettiest view.”

He escorted us to the very back, where a wide picture window showed a tiny pond, a row of tall trees around it, and a soft glow from the ornamental lights creating an ethereal air to the area.

The table in front of the window was a two-seater, with a candle lighted in the center and white China place settings.

I held the chair out for Grace, and she sat, her hands slightly quivering. I hated that she was afraid, but was also a little bit excited that I’d been the one to trigger this emotion in her.

It informed me her feelings ran deep, and even though she cared for me, a physical reinforcement of that delighted me.

After I delivered the wine order to Vincenzo and we were left alone, I sat there and stared at her, the warm glow from the candles creating subtle shadows down her face.

I loved that she’d left her hair down for me, the dark strands making my fingers desire to touch them again.

They’d been so soft, and the aroma, sweet yet floral, turned me on.

She was looking out the window, her profile showing me her beautiful nose, the tiny slope of it, how it looked so feminine. Her lips were big, pouty and rosy. I thought about kissing her, about how she felt against me, how she tasted on my tongue.

Grace looked at me then, maybe sensing my stare on her. The way her cheeks grew slightly red had this ferocious sense engulfing me.

“What?” she asked softly.

“Nothing.” I grinned, and she looked away, her hair somewhat concealing her from my view. “It’s just hard to take my eyes off you.”

She smiled gently, sweetly, and I wanted to reach out and run my finger along the line of her lips, to feel the small upturn, to know that I was the one who put it there.

“Tell me about yourself,” I asked just as Vincenzo brought the bottle of wine and two glasses. He didn’t say anything as he poured us each a glass, set the bottle off to the side, and gave a small nod of his head before leaving us in private.

Dinner tonight was chef’s choice, and I was happy for the extra time to converse with Grace without any interruption.

I picked up my glass and delicately twisted the liquid inside of the transparent crystal. I lifted it to my nose and inhaled deeply, the aroma of berries filling my thoughts.

I glanced at Grace as I tipped the glass back and took a little sip, letting the liquor travel along my tongue before going down my throat.

And the whole while I kept my concentration on Grace.

The wine tasted peppery yet sweet, with undertones of summer and warmth. When I laid my glass down, I spotted her examining hers. She wasn’t twenty-one yet, but that made no difference. I wasn’t attempting to get her intoxicated.

“Try it, Grace. You can’t have true Italian food without a glass of decent wine.” I leaned in close and gently pushed the glass toward her. “And this is a very good year.”

She scooped up the glass, her fingers gentle as they wrapped around the stem.

“The year?” she said softly.

“The year you were born.”

Her eyes expanded significantly. “This wine is twenty years old?”

I nodded and leaned back in my seat.

My eyes went immediately to her hand once more. That small, frail bone in her wrist could be seen underneath her skin, so delicate when she held the glass up. I gazed in surprise and longing as she took a sip. Grace closed her eyes and gulped, a faint hum of acceptance leaving her.

“Tell me what you taste.”

She opened her eyes, and I saw her pupils were dilated. “It’s spicy but has hints of sweetness.” She laid the glass down as a little sigh escaped. “I’ve never been much of a drinker, but that wine tasted…”

“Exquisite?”

She nodded.

Just like you.

“What do you want to know about me?”

“Anything. Everything. I just want to hear your voice. I want to know everything there is to know about you, Grace.”

She grinned, a look of humiliation enveloping her face. I didn’t stop myself as I reached across the table and took her hand in mine, brushing my thumb over her pulse that pounded swiftly under the soft skin of her wrist. But I let go of it and didn’t linger.

“There’s not much to tell. I’m pretty much as plain as they come.”

I shook my head gently, my fingers wrapped loosely over the wineglass, running the digits up the smooth stem. It was idle work, something to keep me occupied, for if not, I’d have her in my lap and be kissing her til we were both on the point of losing it.

“There’s nothing plain about you, Grace.” She lifted her hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, the small pearls she wore catching the light and gleaming faintly.

“My mother and father are divorced. He resides in Florida with his new wife currently. They just had a baby last year.” She looked up at me, this vulnerability in her expression.

It was if she had never talked about herself to anyone else, had never borne herself.

“I’ve never seen the baby in person. It’s kind of odd to think about seeing them when his new wife isn’t much older than I am. ”

I didn’t like that she appeared upset talking about this, and I was ready to tell her we didn’t have to talk about it longer, but she took a deep breath in and I knew she wanted to say more.

“So, it’s just been my mother and me for the past couple years.” She was staring at her wineglass, the candle catching it and creating light prisms along the table.

I could see she was flustered in what she’d said, her thoughts elsewhere. I didn’t like that. I wanted her here, in the present with me.

There was so much I wanted her to tell me, so much I wanted to know about Grace.

I wanted to know what her favorite meal was, her favorite smell.

I wanted to know if she liked sunsets or sunrises better.

I wanted to know what she thought about before she went asleep, what was the first thing that came to her thoughts when she woke up.