My husband.
A Moretti.
The man who made love to me so thoroughly, so completely that I’m no longer the same woman that I was.
When I spent time with my friends in Dallas, I heard stories.Long, detailed tales told over wine and laughter about men who were supposedly insatiable, relentless, impossible to keep up with.
I always assumed they were exaggerating.
Now I’m not so sure.
Last night, Dante had been raw and primal, even somewhat aggressive.He’d used clamps and fucked me hard.
And I’d enjoyed every moment.
Then after that, he’d made sweet, sweet love to me.He cocooned me, kissed me, and took me again and again all night long.Slowly, languorously, as if we had forever.
After breakfast this morning and the long hot bath that Dante had insisted on running for me, I thought the heat between us might settle.
Instead, he had taken me back to bed.
The thought sends warmth rushing through my cheeks.
Dante’s eyes narrow slightly as he studies my face.“What are you thinking about?”
I lift my chin a fraction.“Soap.I mean, can’t you smell the lavender.”
“Soap,” he repeats, clearly not believing me even for a second.
We exchange grins, a lighthearted moment unlike anything we’ve ever shared.Yeah… No matter how hard I might have tried, I could never have pictured a scene like this between us.
“Shall we?”He offers his arm, and I slide my hand through it.
Together we walk toward the shop.
The bell above the door chimes softly as we step inside, and the scent of chocolate, lavender, and citrus wraps around us like a warm cloud.
Shelves of handmade lotions, bath salts, candles, and oils fill the small space in careful rows.
For the first time in forever, I feel something dangerously close to normal.
And as I wander toward a display of glass bottles filled with golden bath oil, I realize something else.
I am enjoying this moment.
Enjoying the way Dante shadows me, like a silent gravity field, steady and watchful beside me.
Enjoying the strange, unexpected domesticity of it all.
Right now, in this tiny shop in Fredericksburg, Texas, war feels very far away.
When I’m holding a ridiculous number of items, the shopkeeper brings over a basket that I fill.Then she happily takes it away and brings me a second.
“Should I just buy the shop?”Dante asks.
I look up at him as I lift the lid of a candle.“Might be less expensive for you.”
I take my time selecting the right fragrance and settle for one called Hill Country Memories.Even when we’re back in Houston, I want a reminder of this trip.
