"How did it go?" Mama Pat asks.It's two days after my date with Dean - the first time Mama Pat is working since that dramatic evening - and she's nearly bursting as she pulls out her ingredients for a batch of strawberry cupcakes. I'm guessing from her grin that she hasn't spoken to Dean yet."He's very nice," I say. "And you were right - he's really cute."Her eyebrow rises. She knows me too well. "But?""But there wasn't any chemistry," I say, then add, "Sadly. Because he seems like a sweet guy." I still feel a twinge - okay, more than a twinge - of guilt over how I handled things. Because even though I know Dean and I don't have a future, he still deserved better. I still have no idea if he guessed what happened between Dante and me against the side of the bar - he didn't ask where I'd been when I returned to the table, and he didn't ask about Dante at all - but it was clear he knew that there was no point in dragging things out any longer. When he dropped me off at my house, h
I'm testing a spicy variation of my new caramel recipe when the jingle of the bell on my bakery's door announces Dante's arrival at a quarter to four on Monday afternoon.I freeze. He's early. I should have known he'd be early.My last three hours have been spent in intense concentration. It's easy to let my mind wander when I'm making recipes I've made a hundred times before. But when I'm testing things, I want to make sure I take in every detail, notice every shift in color or texture, taste or smell. It has made it much easier to forget about why I'm here today.But now that Dante has arrived, I can't distract myself anymore - and I refuse to examine whether my heart has sped up due to nerves or anticipation."I'm in the kitchen!" I call. The caramel sauce I'm stirring has just started to thicken and I can't walk away. "I'll be out in a minute."There's no response. But a second later, I hear the kitchen door swing open behind me."Give me a moment to finish this sauce," I say
Dante leans close to me, his chest brushing my back."No one who sees you here could ever doubt that this is what you were born to do," he says in a husky tone. "It shines through you. It's visible in every brick in this place. And, no doubt, through every bit of food that comes out of this kitchen." He leans even closer, looking down over my shoulder. "What is it you said you were making?"How could such a simple, ordinary question sound so intimate?"Caramel sauce," I answer softly."May I try it?"The color and texture are finally just about right - I see no reason to deny him a taste. I switch off the burner and reach over to grab a couple of the disposable plastic spoons I use for taste testing."It's extremely hot, so let it cool a moment first," I say as I scoop a little of the sauce up in each spoon. "And it's a new recipe, so it might need some tweaking. I haven't even had a chance to try it yet.""I'm sure it will be delicious." He's still right behind me, so I pass hi
Dante's finger hovers in the space between us, that bit of buttercream waiting for my tongue.I can't believe that I'm arguing with him about this. He's supposed to be the serious one. Not the one tempting me into breaking the rules. And though he's right that these particular bits of cake and frosting will never be served to the public, I still find myself resisting. Especially since he's holding his hand out as if he expects me to lick his finger.But I can tell by the look on his face that he's testing me. Teasing me. And I'm not exactly the sort of girl who backs down from a challenge.Okay. I'll play.Rather than dip my head and lick the frosting right off his skin, I use my own finger to scoop off a bit of the buttercream and bring it to my lips."There," I say after it melts on my tongue. "I've licked my finger. Are you happy now?""Not nearly." He grabs my hand and lifts it up. "You've left a good bit of frosting on your skin."I'd hardly call what's left on my finger a
A sound rises in my throat that's half sob and half moan, but I can't fight this anymore. I don't want to fight it. Dante drops my wrists and loops his arms around me, pulling me against his chest, and his hands are everywhere - cradling my lower back, gliding up my spine, threading through my hair - and always pulling me closer. Deeper. His lips devour mine, and when I try to catch my breath his mouth moves around my face, kissing up my tears, erasing them with his lips and tongue. Taking all of my pain, all of my hurt, all of my anger. Everything I've built up over these past three years is pouring out of me as desire, as need. I'm dizzy with it.His mouth dances over my cheeks. My eyelids. My jaw. My throat. And I kiss him just as fiercely wherever I can reach - his neck, his ear, his temple."You made me crazy," he says against my throat. "You still do. It never stopped." He spins me around and presses my back against the table, then buries his face against my neck again. "There'
Dante undoes my jeans as his mouth moves to my other nipple. Then his hands move to my hips and slide down my thighs until he can pull my legs away from his waist. I make a sound of protest, but he compensates by giving me an especially passionate nip with his teeth, and I relent. This allows him to pull my jeans and underwear down my legs, leaving me completely naked beneath him. No sooner have my jeans hit the floor than he's undoing his own fly and pushing his pants down his legs.It's been so long since I've seen him naked. So long since I've admired the hard planes of his chest, or followed the dark trail of hair from his belly button down to his groin, or marveled at the hard, thick length of him. But neither of us seems to want to waste time on studying each other's bodies. We're both slaves to a larger need, a deeper hunger. He leans down fully against me, capturing my mouth again, and the feel of his full weight against me, of his rigid arousal pressed between my legs, is so
Dante moves first, rolling off of me and onto his side. But he keeps one of his arms around me, letting his fingers trail lightly, soft as a kiss, across the skin of my belly. Part of me longs to lean into him, to keep the connection between us, and the other part wants to get far away from this - from him - as fast as possible.I sit up, still trembling."Not yet," Dante says, his strong arm sliding around my waist. "I'm not done with you."He pulls me back down, right against his chest. I sink back, melting against the familiar, heady scent of his skin. His body is still slick with perspiration. God help me.His lips are at my neck, warm and velvety and intoxicating. His fingers drift down between my legs, down to where I'm still wet with the evidence of our ecstasy. Part of me wants to sink into that feeling, to drown in him again, to forget about all the heartache this man has caused me.But the other part of me can never, ever forget.My stomach clenches. I feel like I'm goi
For days afterward, I'm in a daze.I don't feel like myself. My head throbs. My heart feels tired. My body... my body feels different. It's been so long since I've had sex that I feel as if I've reawakened parts of myself, stirred long-dormant nerves back to life. My skin is more sensitive than usual, and there's a tender feeling between my legs that reminds me too much of the soreness I felt the day after he took my virginity. The marks left by his mouth and nails linger on me for even longer - and in spite of everything, I find myself reliving the passionate nips of his teeth every time I catch sight of those bruises in my bathroom mirror.I'm hopeless.The worst part is that every time my cell rings, every time the bell on the door of the bakery jingles, my heart leaps as if I expect him to be there. And when it isn't him, I'm flooded with an unsettling mixture of disappointment and relief.Serves me right. I got what I wanted, didn't I? He seems content to leave me alone, and n
My stomach explodes with butterflies - but I'm not sure whether I'm excited or anxious as Dante slides his arm around me and leads me from the room. This whole evening - this whole relationship - is a lot to take in.He takes me out behind the house. The sun has gone down, casting the grounds in shadow, but from what I can see, the property is gorgeous. Like Dante, Charles and Giovanna have a large pool, but Dante leads me around the edge of the water to the terrace overlooking the gardens below.I grab onto the wrought-iron rail and tilt my head back, looking up at the sky. It's a clear night, and though the lights of the city cast a green-gold glow on the sky, there are still hundreds of stars winking back at me.Dante is quiet - too quiet. After a moment, I glance over at him, and I find him looking up at the sky with an expression I can't read. But he's got his lips pressed tightly together."What is it?" I ask.One corner of his mouth drifts up. "I was just trying to think of
The mansion of Charles and Giovanna Fontaine is insane.It's huge, of course. And gorgeous. And surrounded by grounds that make it look like we're somewhere in Tuscany. If I thought Dante's house was intimidating, it's nothing compared to this.Though I'm sure the fact that I'm about to meet his parents isn't helping my nerves.I'm a bundle of anxiety as Dante leads me through the front door. His arm is hooked through mine, his fingers offering a reassuring touch on my inner wrist."You look gorgeous," he murmurs to me as he leads me across the foyer and into the formal living room. "They're going to love you."The rest of his family is already here, and my breath stops as I take them in. At least one of the advantages of dating a Fontaine is that I already know the names of many of the people here in this room - there won't be any awkward lapses of memory later. Still, meeting everyone at once is more than a little intimidating. It's not just the fact that they're Dante's family,
"What about the press?" I ask Dante."We'll face together. We might have to deal with some rumors after word gets out that I've dropped Cataclysm: Aftermath. But we'll manage. Maybe I can arrange for us to take an extended trip to Bali."I laugh and wipe away a tear. "You know I can't leave my bakery for that long.""Then we'll figure out something else. But we'll do it together." He sobers a little. "I want you to tell me if you get any more harassing messages.""Only if you promise to tell me what's going on with your work." I look down at my hands on his chest. "I'm not trying to pry, I just...""I know." He tilts my face back up toward his. "We have a lot to share. A lot to keep discovering about each other." He twirls a loose strand of my hair around his finger, still looking far too serious. "You'll still have reporters and paparazzi poking around for a while, I'm afraid. I'm hoping that if I stay away from any high-profile projects, we might get a little privacy, but you ne
This can't be happening. Not here, not like this. This is too soon. This is too crazy."Dante..." I whisper. I can't make this decision with all of these people watching."I shredded that script," he murmurs against the backs of my fingers. "I told them to find someone else to rewrite it.""You didn't have to - ""I did. And I'd do it again."Panic is rising in my chest. "Dante, if we could go somewhere a little more private..."He brushes his lips against my knuckles. "I'll follow you anywhere you wish to go."I pull him to his feet and lead him back through the kitchen, past a wide-eyed Mama Pat and straight into the walk-in cooler. I have no idea what I'm going to say or do. But the moment the door is shut behind us, I find myself sinking against his chest.His arms come up around me - one around my waist, the other around my upper back, squeezing me to him as if he never intends to let me go. I press my face against his shirt."I'm scared," I whisper. "I'm so scared, Dante
My "vacation" doesn't leave me feeling much better.Sure, I get plenty of food and plenty of sleep - and both Mama Pat and her husband are kind, generous hosts - but my heart still feels heavy. I feel lost. Dragged out by a rip tide. And I'm not sure what to do but continue to push on. The moment I heard back from Jack - he agreed to meet for lunch this coming week, thank goodness - I switched off my phone. I've avoided television and the internet. I need time to think.But thinking is hard when I'm like this. Every time I close my eyes I feel Dante's arms around me. Feel his lips against mine. Feel his fingers on my skin. Sometimes, I let myself sink into those fantasies. But every time I do, the feelings of love and desire are quickly drowned beneath a rush of pain and fear. I love him. I love him so much I don't know what to do with myself. He holds my heart in his hands, could break it without any effort at all - and he knows exactly where my weak spots are. I hate that he has th
Mama Pat is my savior. She picks me up from Dante's house, and I don't think I've ever been happier to have a mama hen in my entire life.The moment I slide into her car she looks me up and down. "Need to talk about it, honey?"I shake my head. If I say a word about Dante, I'll lose my carefully maintained self-control, and I'm barely holding myself together as it is."Thank you for coming to get me," I tell her. "Normally I'd have called Jack, but he and I aren't exactly on good terms right now.""You know I'm always here for you, my dear."I do know. Mama Pat's been the closest thing I've had to a mother since my own died, and something about the way she's looking at me now - with compassion and understanding - softens me. I need a friend, a mom, right now."I'm an idiot," I say, leaning my head against the car window. "I should have known I wasn't strong enough to handle this. I knew I was being stupid and emotional... but I let myself fall right back into his arms.""Don't b
I can tell the exact moment Dante's eyes land on the sheet of paper because his fingers freeze. "Where did you get that?""Your notes blew off the table and I was picking them up." I shouldn't have looked at them, I know, but it's too late for such regrets. "Is this a character in your script? You're using this? Using me?"He doesn't speak for a long moment. Too long. And when the words finally come, he talks slowly, as if choosing every word carefully. "Writers use real people as inspiration sometimes, Ash. It helps us create characters that feel authentic. But a lot of influences go into a character. Bits and pieces from different people and different experiences."I'm still frozen in his arms. "Her name is Ashley.""That was the director's decision. It's his girlfriend's name - purely a coincidence.""But this note about me isn't a coincidence. You have a comment about her running a bakery... about her having emotional baggage..." But my eyes keep going back to the weaknesses:
I wake to the soft in-and-out of Dante's breath against my cheek.We're in his bed, and for once, I've woken before him. My body is draped across his, and his chest rises and falls beneath my arm. I can feel his slow, steady heartbeat beneath the pads of my fingers.For a long moment, I just lie there and stare at him. Watch the slight flutter of his dark lashes against his cheeks. Admire the long, hard lines of his body. He has a habit of kicking the sheets off while he sleeps, so most of his well-muscled form is in view. I let my fingers drift across the plane of his chest, following the path my mouth took last night. It must be close to dawn because the light that leaks in through the window is pale pink against his skin.I'm not sure how long I lie there watching him. My body feels languid, content. Any tension or anxiety I felt last night disappeared beneath Dante's passionate touch. I feel like we could take on the world together.We left the window cracked last night, and a
"Men were threatening you?" Dante demands. "Men you know?" His voice is so strained that he hardly even sounds like himself.I shake my head. "Strangers."The muscles of his chest are rigid beneath my hands. He doesn't move - doesn't even breathe - for a full minute."Why didn't you tell me this?" he demands finally. His eyes bore into me."I knew it would upset you.""Of course it upsets me!""Well, it's not like there's anything we can do about it," I say."You still should have told me." He releases me and turns away, his hands going to his hair."What good has it done, telling you?" I say. "You don't tell me everything, either. We've just started seeing each other again. It's okay to still have some secrets."He turns back toward me. "And what secrets do you think I'm hiding from you?""Not secrets, necessarily," I say. "But you dodge all of my questions about your work." Between the tense phone calls and his odd behavior at the studio, something is definitely going on.