“Have you been to Italy before?” he asked me.
“No, why? Have you?” I returned the question.
“No. You just seemed to know a lot about it, so I wondered if you’d been there.”
“I would love to go there someday, but I really just know facts about places if they are related to my job or weather,” I explained as another random thought popped into my head that I had a compulsory need to share.
“Did you know that outside of the U.S., Italy has the most waterspouts of any other country?” I asked, continuingright into my nervous babble without giving him a chance to respond. “Though Spain and Greece also report them every year too. I love waterspouts because even though they are basically just tornadoes over water, unlike tornadoes, you don’t have to have a strong thunderstorm to create them. They have what’s called fair-weather waterspouts that can happen on sunny days.”
I watched as he scooted closer to me and then put his hand to the side of my face, pulling me in for a kiss. It was soft and quick but still just as incredible as his kiss from the other day.
After he pulled back, I realized he had a small grin on his face.
“What was that for?” I asked.
“You’re cute when you get nervous and start spouting random facts,” he said, the grin on his face growing, which only made him sexier.
“Sorry,” I told him, dipping my head.
I was glad to know he wasn’t bothered by it but instead found it amusing. It didn’t mean I wasn’t still semi-embarrassed by it.
“Hey,” he said, startling me out of my thoughts, and put two of his fingers under my chin to lift my head. “I’m not much of a talker, Iris, but I enjoy listening to you talk. I don’t care if it’s about yourself, your family, your job, or just some random thing you find interesting. If it’s important or interesting to you, then I want to hear about it.”
I was falling deeper and deeper for this man every minute I spent with him. I took his cue anddid most ofthe talking at dinner. Hector just listened with that steady focus of his, adding a word here or there when it suited him. To anyone nearby, he probably looked like his usual grumpy self, while I sat there waving my hands and talking a mile a minute.
We had ordered our food and were just enjoying each other’s company. I looked around the restaurant, enjoying the aesthetic, the menu, the waiter, everywhere and everything, taking it all in. But every time I looked at Hector, his eyes were always on me—deeply focused.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked as I took a sip of my sparkling water.
“You,” he said candidly.
I smiled at him. “Oh yeah? What about me?”
“I like watching you. I like listening to you talk animatedly about things. And I really like what you’re wearing tonight.”
“You already said that,” I replied, giving him an even bigger grin with probably a bit of a blush on my cheeks.
It felt like an oxymoron of sorts, really—something that defied physics. How could I have heat flowing through my whole face, yet chills running through my entire body at the same time?
“Doesn’t mean I can’t keep appreciating it or admiring you in it.”
Okay, if I wasn’t blushing before, I definitely was now.
Our waiter brought out our food, and we enjoyed pleasant conversation—again, mostly on my end—for the rest of dinner.
“I had a really good time tonight,” I told Hector as we walked out of the restaurant.
His hand was on the small of my back, guiding me out the door. Just as we left, he took a step around, coming to my side and grabbing my hand.
“Me too,” he said quietly, squeezing my hand.
He held my hand the whole way back to his SUV, and I smiled, feeling giddy like a teenager again. Hector may not talk much, but his few comments and small gestures like this spoke volumes.
He walked me to my door and opened it. Wanting to show my appreciation, and also my deep desire to touch him and taste him, I turned and leaned up to kiss him.
It didn’t take long for him to become an active participant. In fact, within a few seconds, he had all but taken over. His left hand moved around my hips to my lower back, pulling me closer into him. His right hand moved to sift through the hair behind my ear, holding my head tightly as he ravished my lips, allowing my tongue to slip inside and taste him.
I moaned as my senses were overwhelmed—the scent of him, his rough hands rubbing along my soft skin, and his taste on my tongue.
