Page 58 of Dancing in the Dark

Placing it on the rim of the sink, I surprise him by steering him back with my hands on his hips, then turning him until he faces the wall. His eyes narrow with curiosity, his cock thickening against the soft fabric of his sweats. I place my palm on his twitching shoulder, and pushing down, I wait for him to understand and straddle the toilet, his knees pointed toward the wall. Stepping up behind him and feathering the tip of my finger against the underside of his jaw, I tilt his head back and smile at the man whose eyes flicker with pleasure. “Can I help you?”

“Shave?” He grips the backs of my thighs with a possessiveness that makes me wet. “I wouldn’t tell you no, even if the world was on fire and you were offering to do it with a freshly sharpened samurai sword.”

“Which is why, statistically, men die younger.” Amused, I lay a gentle kiss on his forehead and linger as his eyes close. As the moment stretches out between us, the peace in his expression feels almost reverent. It feels important, and I know, for him, peace is not something he often gets to experience.

“Will you say it to me again?” I push rasped words along my throat, nervous as I inch back and wait for his eyes to flicker open again. “The bit about loving me. The bit where⁠—”

“I love you?” His lips curl wider. Lovelier. “You wanna hear me say it again?”

Bashful, I pick up his razor and pretend my hand isn’t shaking.

I nod.

It’s small. Almost imperceptible. It’s shy and steeped in the humiliation of an unloved child who eventually grew into… this. Me. A woman who desperately wants more for herself. “I mean, if it’s not too much trouble.”

His eyes dance with pleasure and teasing, but none of the torment my brain willfully foists upon me. Dragging me impossibly closer, he tilts his head back and searches my eyes. “I love you, Seraphina. Fuck,” he growls in the base of his throat, “I can’t switch it off.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah.”

Just that one word, the gentle tipping of his chin, has the power to shatter my heart. But then he mends it all over again, adding, “I used to. A while back, when everything was too hard, and the world was already kicking my ass. Back when you wanted nothing to do with me, and it was all I could do to be enough for Mia.” He draws a long breath. “Yeah. Back then, I really wanted to.”

“But now?”

He exhales again and gifts me with a smile. “I realized there is no switch. It literally doesn’t exist, so instead of being an idiot and running from this scary thing I feel for you, I figured I should lean into it. So, I love you.”

Each time he says those words, a shot of electricity fires through my veins.

“When I’m old and dead and my time here on Earth is done, the people who knew me will say damn, that guy loved hard.” His lips playfully curl. “He loved well. Generational wealth isn’t something that’ll come down the Fletcher family pipeline. There will be no palaces or superyachts moored off the East Coast. But there will be love, and I still think that’s a legacy worth holding onto. So…” His eyes flicker between mine. “I love you. I love you so much, I made myself sick thinking about a world where I don’t get to keep you, then when I got tired of thinking about that shitty existence, I decided I’m gonna love you anyway. Even if you don’t love me back. I’m gonna say it a million times between now and the end of my existence, and if there ever comes a moment you’re feeling lonely and need to hear it again, ask. I’m the man who loves hard, Sera. I love well. And I already decided I love you.” He brings his hand up and carefully guides the razor toward his neck. “Have you ever done this before? You need help?”

“Are you afraid?” Gently brushing his touch away, I place the blade by his Adam’s apple and slowly draw it up. “I thought you said I could do this with a samurai sword and you’d still be okay with it?”

“Hypothesizing death, and actually facing it, are two different things.” He leans lazily against my chest and closes his eyes. “I’m not ready to die yet. You should know this is a new experience for me.”

I rinse the dirty razor, place the head back on his neck, then I slowly draw it up and thrill in the crackle of short stubble being cleared away. “Never?”

“Nuh uh. You caught a first for me.”

“For me, too.” I cast my trepidation aside and press a kiss to the side of his neck. “You’ve caught a couple of my firsts and didn’t even realize it.” I twist, rinse, tap, and repeat. “I’m really glad I came here last night.”

One hour and two orgasms later, I step into Charlie’s hallway at half past seven in a fresh new outfit ready for the office, my hair washed and styled, a light coat of makeup applied to my face, and a thorough examination of my neck and arms to make sure his stamps of ownership remain hidden from the outside world.

I carry my overnight bag all the way to his door and set it on the floor, the zipper bulging under the strain of my gown stuffed inside and the shoes that were perfect for it.

But they don’t suit today’s outfit.

I’ll leave soon and make room for Mia’s return, so she can come into her home without the added confusion of ‘why is Fifi here with my dad?’, but we still have a few minutes, and Charlie’s muscular back, each section rippling as he works, provides too many easy excuses for me to stay a little longer.

“I can feel you staring at me, pervert.” He peeks over his shoulder and flashes a wolfish grin, then, stepping a foot to the right, he reveals his stove and the pan already sizzling with something that smells delicious. “It’s not the penthouse or fancy room service, but maybe this could be a decent consolation prize.”

“Not a consolation.” I cross the room in today’s heels, three inches taller than my natural five feet, six inches, and pulling out a stool on this side of the long counter, I slide onto the padded top and fold one leg over the other. “And I’m not going anywhere until I get to taste whatever you’re making.”

Quick as a flash, he kills the heat and snags a mug from the high cabinet. Filling it from an already steaming pot, he crosses back to me, sets it down between us, and leans across the counter with puckered lips and sparking deviousness dancing in his eyes. “Good. No meat.” He plops a fast kiss on my lips before pulling away and taking down two plates from the cupboard two doors to the left of the mugs. “Lots of vegetables and brightly colored shit.”

“Brightly colored… shit.” I click my tongue. “Sounds delightful.”

Snorting, he scoops scrambled eggs mixed with bright red and green pepper chunks, mushrooms, onions, and what I think may be spinach, onto both plates, though one pile is easily twice the size of the other. Setting them both on the counter, he whips a drawer open and snags a couple of forks, then placing one by my plate, he hip-bumps it closed again and looks up with a smug grin. “I was stressing and overthinking how the hell I’d get enough protein in you without serving meat.”