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Love wasn’t always about the big moments. More often, it was tucked in the small moments connecting the major ones.
This date felt like one of those. A stepping stone on our path toward potential reconciliation.
I wasn’t ready to fully trust Dante again, but I might one day.
“For someone who hasn’t had a serious relationship in years, you’re pretty good at putting together these dates,” I said after we finished eating. We walked through the garden to stretch our legs and soak in our surroundings before we left.
All around us, spring flowers bloomed—lilacs, peonies, and azaleas; dogwoods, wild geraniums, and Spanish bluebells. The air was alive with the sweet scents of nature, but I barely noticed. I was too distracted by Dante’s scent and the heat emanating from his body.
It touched my side, warm and heavy even though we walked a respectable distance from each other.
“It’s easy when you know the other person.” His reply was both casual and intimate.
My heart wavered for a beat. “And you think you know me?”
“I like to think I do.”
We stopped in the shade of a nearby tree, its trunk against my back, its branches arching overhead in a canopy of leaves.
Sunlight dappled through the foliage, turning Dante’s eyes into the color of rich, molten amber. A five o’clock shadow stubbled his strong jaw and cheeks, and my entire body tingled when I remembered the scratch of that stubble on my inner thighs.
The air sparked, a lit match in a pool of gasoline.
All the banked heat we’d suppressed during lunch surged toward the surface in an unabashed wave. My skin was suddenly too hot, my clothes too heavy. An electric link snaked around us, slow and sinuous.
“For example…” Had my voice always been that high and breathy?
“For example, I know you’re still scared,” Dante said softly. “I know you’re not ready to fully trust me again, but you want to. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
His observation pierced my mask like it was made of nothing more than breaths and whispers.
Another wavering heartbeat. “That’s quite an assumption.”
“Perhaps.” A step brought him closer. My pulse sped up. “Then tell me. What do you want?”
“I…” His fingertips grazed my wrist, and my pulse broke into a flat-out sprint.
“Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you.” Dante threaded his fingers with mine, his gaze steady.Hot.
Words eluded me, lost in the haze clouding my brain.
We stared at each other, the air heavy with things we wanted to but couldn’t say.
Amber darkened into midnight. Dante’s body was a study in tension, his jaw hard and his shoulders so taut his muscles were almost vibrating.
His next words pitched low and rough. “Tell me what you want, Vivian. Do you want me on my knees?”
Oh God.
Oxygen disappeared when he slowly lowered himself to the ground, the movement both proud and subservient.
His breath fanned across my skin. “Do you want this?” His fingers trailed from my hand down over the back of my leg, leaving fire in their wake.
My thoughts muddled, but I had the remaining sense to know this wasn’t about sex. It was about vulnerability. Atonement.Absolution.
It was a pivotal moment disguised as an inconsequential one and condensed into one word.
“Yes.” It was both command and capitulation, moan and sigh.
