by T. K. Leigh
When we approached the front door, I slowed to a stop and faced him. My lips turned up at the corners, a tingle spreading across my mouth in anticipation of his kiss, our first goodnight kiss. We’d shared lots of kisses during our somewhat unconventional relationship — passionate kisses, desperate kisses, good morning kisses, needy kisses, reckless kisses, dangerous kisses, heartbreaking kisses. But not one of those had been a true goodnight kiss. A sweet, lingering kiss that left me with the promise of something more. A kiss that made me want to squeal and flop onto the bed, giddy with excitement.
He reached for my hand and slowly raised it to his mouth. My eyes locked on his, unable to look away. My breath came a little more unsteady, more uneven, more erratic. When his lips delicately brushed against my knuckles, a spark of need shot through me, an impetuous moan escaping my mouth, as innate and natural as my lungs inhaling air, my heart pumping blood.
“Eight o’clock tomorrow?” He lifted a brow as he continued feathering his lips against my hand.
I’d agree to anything at that moment if it meant I could feel more of his lips, especially on other parts of my body. A dull throbbing between my legs grew more pronounced and I squeezed them together, desperate for some relief. Yes, I wanted to get to know Dante outside of the bedroom, but I still needed the bedroom.
“Eleanor?” he pressed when I remained mute.
“Y-yes,” I stammered. “Eight o’clock.”
He smiled slyly, then gently lowered my hand, releasing his hold on me. I scowled slightly at the absence of his touch.
“I’ll pick you up here.” It wasn’t a question. More of a demand.
“There’s nothing I can say to get you to stay?”
He slowly shook his head, his dangerously dark eyes trained on me. “Not tonight. I told you I’d always give you what you wanted. You want me to date you. That’s what I’m doing.”
“Then maybe just come in for a few minutes. Or an hour or two.” I winked. “I know how much you love foreplay.”
Groaning, he pulled my body against his, pressing his erection into my stomach. “And I’d love nothing more than to come inside…in more ways than one. But that would defeat the purpose. You were right. We rushed through so many firsts. Firsts we can’t get back. Let me make it right.”
“How are you going to get back to Beverly Hills?”
He gestured over his shoulder at the black SUV I hadn’t realized was parked just beyond my car. “Bradley will take me. I had him drop off all your things from the hotel.”
“Of course.”
He tilted my chin, forcing my eyes to his. “Tonight’s going to be torture knowing you’re so close, but I can’t have you. I know it will be worth it.” He lowered his mouth, his lips a breath away from mine. “You’re always worth it. Tomorrow. Eight o’clock.” Then he abruptly pulled back, leaving me burning for more.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I CHECKED MY REFLECTION for the umpteenth time, trying to do everything to settle my jittery hands as it grew closer to eight o’clock. I’d left work at five again, arrived home shortly thereafter, and spent the last several hours obsessing over what to wear. Dante had texted, telling me to wear a skirt or dress with some sort of comfortable ballet flat. Oh, and not to wear any panties. Other than that, I had absolutely no idea what he had planned, but hoped by not wearing any underwear, I’d be given some relief to the pressure that had been building inside me over the past twenty-four hours.
I smoothed the lines of the knee-length A-line red skirt I’d paired with a black and white striped shirt. I allowed my dark hair to retain much of its natural wave and only applied a hint of makeup, except for my lips, the dark red a stark juxtaposition to my fair skin. After sliding on a pair of black ballet flats, I grabbed my purse, about to peek out the window to see if there was any sign of Dante when I heard a knock.
Butterflies flapped in my stomach, my body buzzing with anticipation and promise as I took the few steps toward the door. With my hand on the knob, I paused, not wanting to appear too eager, but I was desperate to see Dante’s face, to admire his smile, to bask in his presence.
The instant I opened the door, I was treated to a beautiful sight — casual Dante. As much as I loved when he wore a suit, I salivated over this version of him even more. He wore a pair of jeans that tapered from his waist and fit him perfectly, not too tight, not too baggy, accentuating the muscular ass and legs that lay underneath. The white button-down shirt was a perfect contrast to the darkness of his olive-toned skin. His nearly black hair was styled, although still a bit disheveled, and his eyes danced as they raked over me, like a man who’d been at war for years and was just seeing me again after a too-long absence.
“You really are the most beautiful woman in the world, Eleanor,” he began, then brought the hand he’d been hiding behind his back in front of him, revealing a stunning bouquet of red roses.
“Dante…,” I breathed, blinking, taking them in my hand. “They’re beautiful.”
“I have more being delivered while we’re out.”
“More?” I asked, lifting a brow as I peered into his eyes. Something about the way he gazed upon me seemed different tonight. Yes, there was desire and hunger, but something else, too.
“Yes. One rose for every day we’ve known each other. One rose to make up for every day I should have given you flowers.”
I immediately flung my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He was caught off guard at first, then placed his hand on the small of my back, melting into my embrace, squeezing me.
“You’re the first guy to ever bring me flowers,” I murmured.
“And I should have brought you flowers when I met you at the Spanish Steps. But I’m making up for it now. And I promise to make up for every other guy who should have brought you flowers, who should have treated you like the goddess you are…who took advantage of you.” He pulled away, his eyes sincere and genuine. “I’ve done a lot of thinking over the past twenty-four hours.”
He reached for my face, brushing a tendril of hair behind my ear. The light caress of his hand on my skin caused a shiver to roll down my spine. I briefly closed my eyes, relishing in the warmth of his touch.
“I’ve come to the realization that I took advantage of you, too.”
I returned my eyes to his, giving him a coy look. “I wanted you to take advantage of me.”
“That’s not what I mean. I wanted to keep you with me so badly, to have you by my side, I didn’t take into account what was important to you. I won’t do that anymore, Eleanor. I wanted to show you that I cared about you, but in doing so, I treated you just like Brock did, just like your parents did. If this job is important to you, if being in California is what you want, if driving a crappy car makes you feel like you’ve accomplished something, I will support that. I won’t assume I know what’s best for you. I don’t like the idea of you living in an apartment that’s no bigger than a closet or driving a car that could break down at any second, especially when I have the means to give you better, but I will step back. I promise.”
A warm smile crossed my face, every muscle in my body seeming to relax. No one in my life had ever taken my wants and desires into consideration. I had little to no say over anything — my education, my career, whom I would marry. Walking away from Brock and standing on my own two feet was much more than simply supporting myself. It meant finally having control over the aspects of my life I never did. The fact Dante realized this on his own surrendered another piece of my heart to him.
“Thank you.” I placed a soft kiss on his cheek. “You don’t know how much that means to me.” I lowered myself back to my feet, then turned to head into my apartment. “Just let me put these in water before we go.”
“Of course.”
As I approached the small kitchen galley, I glanced over my shoulder, noticing him still hovering by the entryway. “You can come in, ya know.”
“I’ll stay right here, if you don’t mind.” His dark eyes grew storm
y, intense, fevered.
“Any particular reason?”
“If I close this door, there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to restrain myself from slamming you against the wall.” The vein in his neck throbbed, hunger replacing the benevolence that shrouded his expression just moments before. “Especially knowing you’re not wearing any panties, if you followed my instructions. And based on the rest of your attire, I assume you have.”
My breath came in pants, my insides warming at how shamelessly Dante wanted me, the feel of his ravenous eyes raking over every inch of my body empowering me.
“Are we playing your little game again?” I asked in a throaty voice, running the faucet to fill the vase. I stole a glimpse at him, batting my eyelashes, my stomach clenching with promise.
“No, we’re not,” he stated.
I frowned.
“Not that I don’t want to, but not tonight. Tonight is about treating you like a queen, about giving you the best first date possible.”
“You can do that and still play your game.” I turned off the water, then arranged the flowers in the vase.
“Our relationship revolved around sex from the beginning. And while it certainly blossomed into something more, something bigger, I think our first official date should be as normal as possible.”
Swaying my hips, I slowly sauntered to him and peered into his eyes. “Why settle for normal when we can have extraordinary?” I breathed, raising myself onto my toes, my lips hovering over his.
“Then I want our first official date to be extraordinary.” He lowered his head to mine, treating me to a soft kiss before pulling back. “I want it to be both of our last first dates. So I need to get it right.”
“I have faith in you.” I lowered myself back to my feet.
“Good. Now, shall we?” He lifted a brow.
“Yes.”
He linked his fingers with mine, leading me away from my apartment. Unable to keep my gaze off him, my eyes floated to his every few seconds as we made our way toward the parking lot. I couldn’t stop the smile building on my lips, everything about this moment exactly what I dreamed it would be. It probably sounded crazy to someone as traveled and experienced as Dante, but I wanted this excitement, this rush, this exhilarating sensation ebbing and flowing through my veins just because this handsome, debonair, dashing man I knew so very intimately was doing the most innocent of gestures…holding my hand.
As we neared the parking lot, I expected to see Bradley standing outside the dark SUV. Instead, I was pleasantly surprised to see a sporty black Jaguar parked against the curb. Dante approached the passenger door, opening it for me.
“Go on a bit of a car shopping spree yesterday?” I lifted a brow as I walked toward him and lowered myself into the seat.
“No. I’ve had this car for a few years now.”
“Here?”
“Of course.” He closed the door, walking around to get behind the wheel. “I spend a bit of time in town. As much as I appreciate Bradley’s loyalty, sometimes I like being able to drive myself where I need to go.” He cranked the engine, then reached for my hand. “Like on a date with a beautiful woman. Originally, I thought I’d only be here a week, so I had no intention of taking it out of storage for such a short time, but it now appears I’ll be here for the foreseeable future.”
Winking, he released his hold on my hand and put the car in first, pulling out of the parking lot. I marveled at how easily he navigated the streets, as if he’d driven them a thousand times. He didn’t even need to use a GPS to find his way around, much to my bewilderment.
“How much time do you spend in Los Angeles?” I asked a bit sheepishly. I wondered what else I didn’t know about this man. I surmised it was a lot, which was why I insisted we date. We needed to learn about each other. We needed to make sure we still loved each other as fiercely in the real world as we did in the comfort of the clouds.
“Enough to warrant having my own car,” he answered. “And enough to warrant finally buying my own house instead of living out of hotel rooms or vacation rentals.”
“I’m sorry.” I looked away, biting my lower lip. “I guess I just assumed the only reason you’d buy a house was because—”
“You certainly did have something to do with it. If it weren’t for you, I’d probably be happy with just a condo or something in Santa Monica. But you deserve better than that. You deserve to have a home with a yard where you can play with children, if that’s what you desire. No matter what you decide, I know I’ll want to spend a lot more time in California. It’s home for you. And it always will be home for you, even if we end up in Italy.”
“Dante, I—” I fidgeted with my hands in my lap, wishing I could give him the answer he wanted to hear. That I would move across the ocean for him. That I would leave this life behind, this life that still caused me nothing but pain. I just couldn’t do that yet. I still feared it was too good to be true.
“Let’s not talk about this right now.” He reached for my hand, grabbing it in his. “I’m not going to pressure you into making any decision tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week, for that matter. I’ll be here whenever you’re ready, whether it be this month or years down the road. I’m not going anywhere. And I plan on doing everything in my power to prove that to you.”
I met his eyes, giving him a grateful smile, then turned my attention back to the road, the heavy traffic starting to thin out as we made our way down the 101 toward Hollywood. I cleared my throat, shifting the conversation. “Where are you taking me tonight?”
“You’ll see.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But I have a feeling this will be one date you’ll never forget.”
I squeezed his hand. “We could just sit in this car all night and it would still be a date I’d never forget.”
He winked. “That’s good to know.”
After another twenty minutes of easy conversation, he pulled off the freeway, made a few turns, then merged onto Hollywood Boulevard. I looked out the window at all the landmarks people traveled thousands of miles to see — the Walk of Stars, the Chinese Theater, Capitol Records, the Hollywood Sign. I never thought much of any of it. It was simply home to me.
“A penny for your thoughts,” Dante said, noticing my furtive stare as I took in the sights.
“Nothing,” I answered with a shrug.
“I find that difficult to believe.” His voice was sly, cunning, deep. “I’m fairly certain that not one second of one day goes by when you’re not thinking about something.” His hand floated to my leg and he tenderly grazed the skin, goose bumps prickling my flesh.
Smirking, I said, “Maybe I was just thinking about when you’d finally push my skirt up and touch me, considering you’re the one who requested I not wear any panties tonight.”
“I’m experimenting with something new.”
“What’s that?”
“Self-control.”
“You picked one hell of a time to start that,” I huffed playfully.
“It’s to your advantage, Eleanor.” He grinned wickedly. His gaze lingered on my exposed legs before returning to the road. While I knew I’d never forget this date, I doubted he wanted to make it even more memorable by crashing his beautiful car, just because he couldn’t keep his eyes off me.
“We’ll see about that.” I faced forward, silence filling the car once more as we headed down Hollywood Boulevard. Then I recalled something he’d said yesterday. I furrowed my brow, glancing at him. “When was the last date you were on?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Last night, you said—”
“That it’s been over a decade.”
“Yes. I just thought it would have been right before you met me.”
“Certainly not.”
“But—”
“There’s a difference between dating and fucking, Eleanor.”
“So the past decade, you just…”
“Yes. My focus was my career, then Lilly. I didn’t need any distractions.”<
br />
Not wanting to let him see so much as a hint of insecurity, I boldly pressed for more information about his past relationships. He knew all about mine. I knew next to nothing about who this man was before our paths crossed on that flight to Rome.
“Who was she?”
“Who?”
“The last woman you took on a date.” I paused, then quickly shook my head. “Actually, no. I don’t want to hear about that. I’d rather hear about your first crush.”
“My first crush?” he repeated with a raised brow.
“Yeah. The first girl who made your heart skip a beat, who made you draw little hearts all over your notebooks during school.”
He chuckled softly, a glint in his dark eyes. “I’ve never drawn hearts over my notebooks.”
“Okay then. Who did you pass notes to during class?”
“Why do you care about that?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I just want to learn about the side of Dante Luciano you can’t find out about from Wikipedia or IMDb.”
He studied me for a brief moment, then faced forward once more, shifting into second as the light turned green and the flow of traffic resumed. “Bianca D’Angelo,” he said finally, a nostalgic smile crossing his face. “It was fitting that her name means ‘White Angel’. I truly believed she was an angel. She sang in the church choir. I was an altar boy. The choir loft was in the rear of the church, so I always had the perfect view of her during mass.”
My eyes widened. “You were an altar boy?”
“What’s so surprising about that? Pretty much every boy in town served as one at some point during their lives. Hell, some of them eventually went to seminary and became priests. You can’t have Italy without the Catholic religion. For many, it’s one and the same.”
“I know, but I never imagined you in one of those little costumes.”
“Technically, it’s called a cassock,” he corrected, laughing.
“I need pictures. Like, yesterday. Remind me to get in touch with Beatrice about this.”
