The two words,date me, flung me out of the world we had just been in and into another. Without my mind’s permission, the breathed word “Scusi?” slipped from my lips.
He gave a sharp nod, squeezing my hand. His hands were a delicious balance between hard and soft, and his palm was keeping my entire body warm.
His position, lower than me, seemed to mean something. Faustis were subtle about their language at times. The true meaning had to be dug up in a second to keep up with the treasure hunt. This was why some schools taught about them in college. Fausti Curriculum, as compelling as any Romance language.
“You need this from me,” he said.
“Dates?” I almost choked out the word.
“Sì. To date.” He seemed to almost choke out the word as well. He moved my hands back and forth. “I am who I am. I was who I was. I can’t change that. You trust me, but you don’t. I’ve seen how that can work by watching my mamma. My father never gave her a reason to not trust him, but she still struggled with it. She has lingering issues because of my grandfather that are still not resolved. It’s different for you.
“My past is an issue. And…dating—” he almost spat the word out, as if it was distasteful “—is not something the men in my family usually do. We get serious. We marry.” He stared at my hand, my left hand. “It’s fucking naked,” he grumbled, then seemed to get a hold of himself. “You will trust me—completely, irrevocably.”
“Ah,” I breathed out. “You think dating will change this?”
“Sì. It will give us time together before we marry.”
“You do not ask, Mariano Fausti, but, ah, what if I say no?”
“To the dating or the marriage, Annie? Don’t keep me in fucking suspense. You’re breaking my heart.”
“Let us start with the dating.” I was breathless, because perhaps he was right. It was a beginning that was something different for him and for me. He was also offering me something that he had never offered another woman before. This, for him, was not normal, and I could tell it was making him uncomfortable—which was proving a point.
This was for me.
“My parents never truly dated,” he whispered. “Then they went to Fiji, and Mamma likes to tell the story of how Papà persuaded her to date him.”
I smiled at this. “While they were married?”
He nodded.
“All right.” I sighed. Lifted a finger. “If this works out, Mariano Fausti, the dates, I mean…that would lead to marriage. Would you always date me even when we are married?”
“Forever,” he breathed out, and then he set his body over mine, pushing me onto my back and making the mattress dip with our weight.
I laughed, pretending to push him off, and he growled at the pulse in my neck.
“You drive me fucking crazy, Annie.”
“Just wait.” I laughed even harder when he placed a bunch of big smooches on my face. “I am just getting started.”
“Fuck me sideways.”
I set my hands against his chest and pushed a little. I could not budge him if I tried with all my might, but he pushed back some as if the strongest person in the world had moved him.
He studied my eyes. “Tell me.”
A smile was stuck to my face, and his eyes moved down to my lips before they returned to my eyes. He was getting that look again. The one that told me he was dangerously close to making a move.
“Where are you, ah, taking me on our first date?”
His grin came slow. “It’s a surprise.”
My breath caught from his grin. “I do not do well with those.”
He started laughing, kissing me. I kissed him back, pulling him in, refusing to allow a breath to come between us. Then I pushed him a little, and he stopped. Quirked his eyebrow up at me.
“You will have to work for me, Casanova.”
