She didn’t want to think about the “what-ifs,” not right then, she wanted to think about the moment, focus on the here and now.
Kissing him on the cheek, she stepped out of his embrace and stole a tortilla chip. “How’s the cat, Sinclair, doing?”
“Still nuts,” he said with a chuckle. “She settled down and slept last night. Kind of a noisy thing. I think the neighbors hear her purring.”
Fiona walked over the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and handed one to him. “Looks like you slept well.”
“Well enough with a furball on my head.” His words said one thing, but the tone said another—he’d already gotten attached to the cat.
“What else are you making there for me, studly?” She dipped the chip in the guac and groaned. “This is excellent.”
“Tacos, spicy and sweet just like you.”
He lifted her by the waist and planted her on the opposite counter. His hands slid down to her bare thighs and then back up to slip under the edges of her shorts. He laid soft kisses down the side of her throat. A moan escaped as she threw her head back, arching her breasts, begging for his touch without uttering a word. His hands caressed her sides, traveled up her ribs, then his thumbs flicked her nipples.
His mouth hungry on hers demanded more. Weeks of stored-up passion exploded between them, and she gave back as good as he delivered. The t-shirt slipped over her head and Dante froze in his actions.
Coming out of her lust-filled haze, she glanced down. “Is something wrong?” As a personal trainer and a yoga instructor she was fairly confident in her body, but as a woman, she still had doubts. Instinctively her hands moved to cover up.
Dante grabbed them and pulled her hands behind her back. “You wore the red bikini today. Have I told you how much I like this swimsuit?”
“No, I don’t think you’ve mentioned it.”
His eyes dilated even further turning the once dark brown to nearly all black. She scooted closer to the edge of the counter and spread her legs so he could get close and personal.
He stepped into her. “My bad, and please accept my apologies. You look amazing. If you wore this every day, I’d be okay with that.”
She laughed. “I’m not sure it’s suitable for PT or yoga, things tend to fall out when I bend over.”
His eyes widened. “Maybe just when we’re alone then.”
She was about to respond when she heard sizzling and crackling. She sniffed and looked around. “Um, Dante. Hate to be a party pooper here, but I think you’re burning something.”
“Crap.” The chicken was black. He turned off the burner and shoved it aside. “There went your sweet and spicy tacos.”
“It’s okay. I’m not especially hungry, at least not for food.”
Dante looked around, scooped her up and headed down the short hall. Thank goodness she’d cleaned her room and put on fresh sheets. He set her down, kissed her quickly and stepped away. Huh, not what she was expecting, neither was his next action. He took a few minutes to set the scene, snagging the lighter she kept on her bookcase and lit every candle in the room. She wanted to tell him she didn’t need priming, his kisses had taken care of that already. But from what she’d seen of Dante he was a man who put others first and had a romantic soul.
He toed off his shoes. Then he fisted his shirt and drew it slowly over his head in a move meant to tease and tempt. It worked. She was beyond teased and temptation had gone out the window. She was ready to attack. It didn’t matter how many times Fiona saw him without his shirt he took her breath away. Those abs. Gloriously sculpted, rock hard, that only came from hours of hard work.
“I thought I should even things up,” he said.
Fiona reached around to her back and tugged on the string, then a second tug and let her top fall to the floor. “Now we’re really even.”
Dante was on her in a second, walking her backwards, as his fingers trailed up her arm, across her collar bone, and down the middle of her chest. He trailed the tips lightly over her skin, sending delicious chills rushing through her body. He circled her breasts until he reached the center.
“So soft. Your skin, it’s like silk.”
They hit the edge of her bed. She reached out to grab Dante’s shoulders and took them both down with a bounce.
* * * *
He had every intention of taking it slow, drawing out the moment, and making it a night to remember, but the minute she dropped her top instinct took over. One minute he was staring at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and then next she was in his arms. She kissed him, or he kissed her, he really wasn’t sure. He just knew for the first time in months he was where he belonged, where he needed to be.
She sighed into his kiss and tugged at his belt. In the next instant she was between his legs, her warm breath on his head, and had her hand wrapped around him. With sure, smooth strokes, Fiona brought him to the edge again and again. He fisted the sheets and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Sweet Christ, he was going to embarrass himself if she kept it up.
When he didn’t think he could take any more, she released the hold she had on him and took him into her warm, wet mouth. It took everything he had not to lose it as she ran her tongue up one side, swirled it around the top and back down along the vein. She gave it the attention one would to a melting ice cream cone, hungry, greedy, and with great pleasure.
Never before had he been loved as thoroughly, and while he freaking loved what she was doing to him, turnabout was fair play. He released the sheets and reached for her, smiling when she whimpered as he pulled her up his chest. He flipped her over, devoured her mouth and left her panting for air.
He stopped first at her luscious breasts, sampled each bud, teased it, tasted it, tested what made her squirm and what made her cry out for more. Leaning over Fiona, he took his time. She was so damn beautiful, inside and out. Toned, he traced his fingers over her skin. Silky, smooth, soft. He traced the lines above the waistband of her shorts. Stretch marks from carrying life inside of her. Amazing. Beautiful.
With one move, he had both shorts and bikini bottoms off and on the floor.
He slipped one finger between her quivering legs. Her hips rose to meet him, demanding more. Never let it be said he denied a lady’s request. He stroked, swirled and tasted. Fiona’s head thrashed back and forth as he continued to feast on her while sinking his finger deep inside her. She thrust her hips, increasing the friction, the pressure, begging him for more, to go harder, faster. Her nails dug into his shoulders and she cried out as her muscles clamped around his hand.
Her body went limp as he lifted his head and licked his lips.
“Give me a minute, sunshine.” He left her lying still, breath coming in quick gulps and he searched for his shorts and—thank God—the condom he stuck in his back pocket as a last thought. He ripped open the pack and Fiona nicked it out of his hands as he crawled back on the bed, and in one quick move had him sheathed and ready to go.
He kissed his way back up her body, stopping at all of her sensitive zones. “So beautiful,” he murmured. He held himself over her, his arms rock steady. “Last chance to change your mind.”
Fiona hooked her ankles around his back and pulled him down. In one swift move he was inside of her. She sighed. He sucked in his breath and held still. She wrapped her arms around his neck and together they just held still. Neither moving, both lost in each other, in the moment. Dante knew this was where he was meant to be.
They lined up perfectly, in body, in this—sex, but more. She fit… with him, in his life, and more. And the thought scared the hell out of him.
Slowly, they began to move in sync. A perfect rhythm, a well-choreographed dance that had been practiced hundreds of times and perfected between old lovers. They simply fell into step with one another. She kissed him, stole his breath away, and sealed the connection.
“You feel so good,” he said.
“We feel good. It feels right,” Fiona sighed softly as her hands caressed his back.
All of the former urgency he had felt when they started slipped away. It felt too damn good to rush. He wanted to stay there for forever in Fiona’s embrace, deep inside her where the nightmare of his life didn’t exist. Where he felt at home.
Fiona had other ideas, it seemed, as she tightened her legs around his waist, and her muscles clamped around him. The pressure built. Sweet baby Jesus, it felt so good it hurt. The rhythm changed, sped up as the finish line neared. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he kissed her, long and hard. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath caught in his lungs. He refused to go until he gave her every ounce of pleasure she deserved.
Her body tightened. She called out his name. His muscles started to shake. He felt that final pull and as the release hit he threw his head back before collapsing next to her. Dante took care not to land on Fiona; instead he slipped his arm under her and rolled her on top, so that her head rested on his heart.
“Wow,” she whispered.
Dante laughed. “That’s all you got.”
She playfully smacked him on the arm. “Ego much?”
“Lack of. Men constantly need to have their egos stroked.”
“I thought I stroked your ego earlier.”
“Maybe when my brain kicks back in, I’ll have something better for you.”
* * * *
Her brain didn’t engage for an hour or so. It was hard to tell with the curtains drawn in the room. All she really knew was one minute her head had been on Dante’s shoulder and now she was alone in the bed. She stretched, feeling muscles loose and limber, and her mind relaxed.
Like only a good yoga session or great sex could do.
It would be so easy to curl up and go back to sleep, except she heard movement from the other room and smelt… chocolate. She got up and headed into the bathroom. Minutes later, cleaned up and wearing her t-shirt and shorts, sans the swimsuit, she followed her nose into the kitchen.
Dante was bent over the open oven door, with shorts riding low on his hips and his shirt nowhere in sight. Now this was a view she could get used to: a barefoot, half-naked man, and brownies.
He set the pan on the stovetop and turned around, a slow smile spreading.
“I was beginning to think you’d turned into Sleeping Beauty.”
“Hmm, nope. She woke up when her prince kissed her.”
He took her in his arms, nibbled his way up her neck to her ear. “Maybe I’m really a frog dressed like a prince.”
She tilted her head, giving him better access. “Could be. You swim like one.” She tried to peer around him. “Those smell good. When will they be ready to eat? I’m starving.”
He walked her backwards to the table. “Not until after you eat dinner.”
“Dante, I appreciate the offer, but I saw what you did to the chicken, and I don’t think guacamole and chips count as dinner.”
“So little faith.” He walked back to the kitchen and came out carrying a covered dish. Whipping the top off, her mouth dropped at the sight of tacos. Delicious smelling shrimp tacos, with garlic, cilantro, onions, and tomatoes.
“You ran out and got food and made dessert?”
He set the tray down and reached for the plates she hadn’t noticed. “Woman, you wound me. Here I let you sleep after you about killed me in the bedroom, got up and started from scratch on dinner… Plus, dessert and you accuse me of cheating.”
She bit into the warm flour tortilla and an explosion of flavors burst on her tongue. “Oh my God, these are amazing,” she said after swallowing. “Recipe. You are not leaving here without giving it to me.”
Dante grinned and bit into his own food. “Can’t. It’s a family secret and you’re going to have to explain to Skip why I missed his birthday celebration.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Thomlison—the head instructor and chief wanker. He made this big deal about all the instructors getting together tonight to help him celebrate. Said it was some bullshit team-bonding thing. Personally, I think he was deprived as a child and is trying to make up for it now. If he tries to make me play pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, he’s in for a rude awakening when I stick that pin in his ass.”
Fiona laughed around a mouthful of food. She was already on her second taco and didn’t care how many carbs she was inhaling. Besides the tacos he’d set out chips, the guacamole he’d made earlier, and fresh salsa.
“Okay, fine, I’ll let you… skip… ha-ha, pun intended this time. But you promised me cooking lessons and I want this on the agenda.”
Dante was about to take a bit out of his taco, when he stopped and flashed an evil and sexy smile. “Come with me. Dylan’s gone for the night, and you’re done working for the day. It’ll be fun.”
“Playing pin the tail and drinking with a bunch of guys?” She shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m going to pass.”
“What are you going to do, mope around here?”
“Nope. I’m going to take advantage of the quiet. Maybe take a bubble bath, watch a chick flick, or go to bed early and actually get a solid eight hours.”
He let it go and they finished eating while talking about nothing important—the weather, the Red Sox, the students in his class, every day, ordinary things. They cleaned up the kitchen together, working in tandem and when he nodded to the brownies, she groaned. Out loud and pathetic.
“I’m too full from dinner. How about I promise to stay out of them tonight, and we can have them when you come back over, maybe with chocolate sauce and whipped cream?”
His eyes twinkled with interest and Fiona couldn’t wait until he came back.
Chapter 12
The music pumped loud overhead. People were freaking everywhere, laughing and talking, shooting darts and pool, and bumping up against one another. The gang had managed to snag a booth before the place got packed, not that it mattered. They were jammed in together like sardines. There was only one person Dante wanted to get this up close and personal with and Fiona wasn’t there.
Skip called the waitress over, ordered another round of drinks and launched into another boring ass story. Something about his latest marathon or triathlon or some other bullshit competition where Skip tried to convince himself that the big 5-0 wasn’t coming up. Yeah, they all got it—he was awesome.
The thing was, they were all freaking bad asses in their own rights. Each of them had done the time, did the deeds, made the sacrifices for glory and country. Some longer than others, but it didn’t diminish their importance. Yeah, Dante may have had more medals than most of the guys, but that’s not what was important. Doing the mission. Completing the mission. Bringing everyone home. That’s what mattered.
And he’d botched his last mission.
Thankfully, everyone had come home in one piece, and alive. Thank fricking God. He wouldn’t have been able to live with himself otherwise.
Skip excused himself and the moment he was out of earshot, the table let out a collective sigh.
“Can’t believe I thought this would be a nice get away from the estrogen at home.” Marco Williams took a long pull on his beer, shaking his head.
“He’s not that bad,” Chin said.
“Sitting alone in my room, staring at the four blank walls is more exciting than listening to Skip’s stories.” Jake Roberts reached for the bowl of pretzels. “What I wouldn’t give to be home right now.”
The waitress stopped at the table, unloaded the drinks and left. Dante ignored the beer. His hands were shaking again. As the guys talked shop and bullshit, he focused on his breathing, ignoring the world around him. After a few minutes, the movement had subsided a little. Not enough to where he’d pick up his beer bottle. For one, he didn’t want to wear it and for another, he
wasn’t in the mood to get drunk. He had other plans as soon as he could escape.
He had left Fiona at the apartment only because he had no other choice, she wouldn’t come and he had to go. Not that he hadn’t tried to stay and skip the celebration. Fiona had laughed, kissed him and shoved him out the door.
A commotion broke out at the far end of the bar, and he wondered if one of them should go find Skip. He’d been gone for a good ten minutes. “Hey should we check—”
As the words left his mouth, Thomlison staggered up to the booth. “Hate to do this, but the wings, they’re ripping me apart. I’m out of here.”
“You need someone to drive you, Skip?” John Chin asked.
“Got an Uber waiting for me. Thanks for coming out, guys. See you on Monday.” He waved as he left the group stunned into silence.
“Okay then. The night just picked up. Maybe I won’t go back and stare at my blank walls.” Jake flagged down the waitress as the rest picked up the conversation.
“Hey man, is everything okay?” Marco nodded toward his clenched fists.
“It’s nothing. Comes and goes.” Dante shrugged it off. But it wasn’t nothing and it came more frequently than it had in the past.
“What about that specialized yoga program? Is that helping? I’ve thought about checking it out for my insomnia,” Jake said.
“It helps, but like every other treatment, it takes time.”
“Must be rough. Spending extra time with Fiona. That woman can order me around any time she likes.” Chin smiled and raised his beer in a toast.
“Are you kidding?” Marco looked at Chin like he was crazy. “That woman is a little scary and I live with five scary women. I’d be afraid if I messed up she’d chop my balls off in my sleep.”
Dante spewed his beer. The rest of the guys teased Williams for being a wimp, then agreed he had a point. Dante kept quiet. He wasn’t about to talk to these guys about her soft side, her vulnerable spots and definitely not about how hot she was or made him.
Disarmed by Love Page 16
