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“I don’t know. Rosa won’t do it. We’ve asked her to manage one of the other locations many times, but she likes being a server.”
“How about Roberto? He’s a hard worker and everybody respects him.”
“Roberto is great at what he does, but I don’t know if he’s management material. I need someone who can keep all the yoyos in line and still keep up with the books.”
“All I know is he’s a smart guy and people love him. And he’s mathy. He helped me with my close-out one time when I was confused.”
“Okay, I’ll consider it when the time comes.”
Note to self: To obliterate a romantic mood, bring up work topics. Guaranteed to kill any amorous notions you might be entertaining.
I’m still feeling that ache low in my belly, though. At this point in the day, I’ve already digested the tacos we had for dinner, so it can’t be that. And I know this feeling—the sweet tingling pain of being so near to a woman you know you shouldn’t touch. If you touch her, you’ll lose yourself in her.
Definitely not tacos.
My body draws close to Olive, like she’s the center of gravity. I’m facing her, leaning into her as her elbows rest on the balustrade. She feels the shift in the air, too. Turning her head over her shoulder, her gaze meets mine, her nose barely brushing against my lips. I’m done pretending, prancing around with this charade.
I hook a finger under her chin and guide her to face me, and then, with her shoulders under my hands, I incline my head down. Her eyes glimmer, drugged with desire, and I hold them with a level gaze.
“I’m going to kiss you now,” I rumble. “Is that okay?”
She nods, swallowing hard. “Are… people watching?”
“Gaaaad, I hope not.”
With an undeviating resolve, I dip my head and caress her lips in a slow, sweet kiss. Her mouth is warm, soft, inviting. This isn’t a kiss to ravage her—it’s not a means to an end. It’s a promise. A promise to cherish and adore her. To treasure her. To love her.
I feel her arms slide around my waist, loving me in return. I cup her face with my hands, tilting her head just right to explore her mouth. She’s so responsive to my touch, embracing me tightly and lulling me with every stroke of her lips. A wave of nirvana cascades over me, so euphoric in nature, I imagine this is what it feels like to be weightless in space—without the danger of decompression or asphyxiation, of course. But she does take my breath away, so it’s not that far off by comparison.
Taking my time, I nip her bottom lip and move to the corner of her mouth, then the other. I want to know every inch of her face with reverent touches of lips on skin. She lets out a shuddering breath, her chest rising and falling.
“Ignacio,” she gasps. “You need to stop.”
I pause, halting my mouth just above her jaw.
“Why?”
“Because it feels real.”
“It is real, cariño. At least I hope it is.”
She wheezes, gulping for air. “You do?”
“Yes,” I rumble, lowering my voice. “Do you?”
Her eyes dart to mine, and she licks her lips with an audible gulp. “Yes, please.”
Warmth spreads across my chest, and nothing but pure joy floods my senses.
We’re laughing and kissing, mouths falling over one another, tripping, and spiraling out of control. She smiles and giggles, tilting her head back as I reach to capture her mouth. We’re grinning like it’s so hilarious and wonderful to want this to be a real thing between us, and in that smiling and mouths crashing, our teeth clank together, but only causing moderate pain. I wrap my arms around her and pick her up, kissing her as she hovers over me, legs dangling. Then I set her down gently and graze my lips over hers with the softest touch.
“We’re really doing this,” she says, almost stupefied. “We’re not… fake dating anymore.”
“Baby, this hasn’t been fake for a long time. Not for me.”
Maybe I couldn’t admit it before, but if I had pin a time to when it began to be real for me, I believe I would date it back to the moment I stepped into her apartment the first time and caught a glimpse of who Olive really was. All those gnomes and Christmas decorations.
“Not for me, either,” she admits. “And that scared me a little.”
