Dane reaches behind him, finds my hand, and fits my palm into his. The tips of my fingers barely reach the centre of his. His fingers fold over mine like a vow as he leads me the final steps to the table. His touch is a contradiction, calloused yet gentle. Masculine and warm.
“Your hands… they’re softandrough.”
A soft chuckle escapes him. “Yeah.”
Still holding my hand, he twirls me beneath his arm before pulling me into his chest. Teek’s hums softly from the speaker, each note wrapping around us like silk. My heart folds into itself as I stare into Dane’s eyes, eyes like a two-story home where I’m stuck on the bottom floor, trying to find the staircase that leads to where he waits, whispering that I’m worth climbing for.
The air shimmers between us, a tether of desire and something that aches like belonging. But guilt coils around my ankles, dragging my stomach to the floor. I shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t want what I can’t keep.
Silence falls, and in it, you can almost hear the sound of my heart breaking.
Dane breathes in just as I do, his finger lifting my chin. My gaze meets his asRemember Mebegins to play. He mouths the lyrics like a prayer, and just like that, the guilt recedes, washed away in the warmth of his arms as he dances me across the dining room.
His touch says what his words won’t, that heknows. That Ineedthis. This song. This moment.
“I needed this,” I whisper.
He holds me like I’m breakable, like I matter, his heartbeat thundering against mine. And then, just as I’m about to beg him to kiss me, he does something else entirely.
He stops dancing. Lowers me onto his lap as he sits in the dining chair. Tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers tracing my cheek before brushing my lip. My body melts into his touch, a soft whimper escaping. He hears it.Feelsit. Smiles.
Breaking the contact, he reaches for the fork, twirls it through the pasta, tests the heat with his lips, then lifts it to mine. I open my mouth, thoughtless, breathless, utterly his in this moment. He feeds me, one mouthful for me, one for him, until the bowl is empty.
Then he offers me wine. From his glass to my lips. Bitter berries and something darker spread across my tongue. I watch him sip from the same glass. The sweetness of this man is unbearable. His patience. His care. It cracks something inside me wide open.
I sigh. Let go. Melt into the strength of his arms.
“You, okay?” he murmurs, tightening his hold.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
He shifts, standing with me still curled into him. The lounge is vast, bigger than my home, and the lights of Wellington blink far below. The sky outside is a velvet shroud, the stars distant and soft.
“It’s so beautiful here,” I whisper as he lowers us onto the sofa. It’s plush and white, swallowing us whole. Dane leans back, pulling me with him, settling me between his legs, my back to his chest.
He reaches around me, sweeping my hair away, baring my neck. My pulse jumps. I feel more exposed now than I did in that bathroom. His lips find the thrum in my neck. Gentle. Reverent.
I close my eyes. Let go. Let him guide me through the tangled forest of guilt into something softer.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I whisper into the quiet.
“Why?” he asks, voice a low vibration against my spine.
“I’m… married.”
The word cracks in my throat. The ring on my finger and the paper in my drawer say I am. But Blake? He left me with nothing but silence.
“And I haven’t spent a night away from her since I had her.”
My voice breaks.
“I’ll take you back to her, Penn, if that’s what you want. But know this, I want you to stay. So, fucking bad.”
I trace my fingers along his arm, grounding myself.
Dane drops his head to my ear, still playing with my hair, his voice sinking into me like smoke.
“You can’t make someone love you when they don’t. But she knows you love her. And just for tonight… give yourself a break. From the guilt. The pain. The overthinking in the dark. He gave up the fight, but mine, Penn, mine’s just beginning.”
