When we finish the main, we share a dessert. A simple chocolate mousse. I compliment it and she laughs and confesses that the Chef whipped it up. We eat the creamy and decadent thing quietly. Our utensils clink softly as we take turns, the intimacy building with each bite.
She gets up then and starts stacking the plates with a soft clatter. I help take the dishes to the sink. Our shoulders brush as we move, and the contact is electric. She starts rinsing the plates.
“Leave it,” I say.
But she shakes her head. “Let’s not leave a mess. Vincent will never trust me with his kitchen again.
So we rinse them together, the warm water cascading over our hands, soap bubbles foaming between our fingers. Her laugh is soft when a splash hits her top. Then we load the dishwasher, the machine humming to life with a click.
We turn to face each other at the same time. The kitchen is quiet now, the overhead lights casting a golden glow on her face, highlighting the tendrils framing her cheeks. She starts to say something, her lips parting, a question in her eyes.
But I can't hold back anymore.
The tension that has been simmering all evening boils over, like a rush of heat flooding into my veins as my hand curves around the delicate column of her neck. My fingers weave through the soft, silky hairs at her nape, each strand like velvet under my touch. Her skin is warm, alive, pulsing with the same frantic rhythm as my heartbeat.
I pull her close with a firm, insistent tug that draws a soft gasp from her lips. Our bodies collide gently, her curves pressinvitingly against me in a way that sends sparks racing down my spine.
I kiss her then, deep and claiming, my mouth slanting over hers with a hunger that's been building for hours. Her lips part willingly. She is soft and yielding, tastes of the rich, bittersweet chocolate and the intoxicating essence that is uniquely her.
My tongue delves in, exploring the wet heat of her mouth, swirling against hers in a slow, sensual dance that draws out every flavor, every sensation. The velvet slide, the subtle hitch in her breath, the way she melts into me with a tiny whimper that vibrates straight to my core. Time stretches, the world narrows to the pounding in my chest, the electric tingle where our lips meet, the faint scent of her perfume rising like a haze around us.
We part slowly, reluctantly, my lips lingering for one last brush against hers.
"Thanks for dinner," I say, but my voice is rough and gravelly, scraped raw by the intensity of my emotion.
Her eyes flutter open, dazed and dark with desire, and I watch, mesmerized, as her knees buckle slightly, her body swaying like a reed in the wind, threatening to collapse right there in my arms.
Her breath comes in ragged bursts, chest heaving, each inhale a shaky rasp that fills the quiet room, her cheeks flushed a deep pink that spreads down her neck. Fire roars in my blood, a wildfire that cannot be extinguished, but I steady her with a gentle hand on her arm, my palm firm against the smooth warmth of her skin. I feel the tremor running through her.
What is this thing between us?
The thought flashes like a warning, but it's drowned out by the raw desire thrumming in my veins. I have no regrets, not a single one. All that remains is the addictive pull of wanting more, of savoring every pulse of her against me, every heated glance that promises this is just the beginning.
Just the beginning…
Chapter Thirty-Four
JULIET
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dpfbKWoBpRw
-Listen to your heart-
I can feel heat flooding into my cheeks like a wildfire, and I can't contain it. It burns hot and spreads fast across my face as I stand under his intense scrutiny—those dark, piercing eyes make my hands tremble, and the air feels thick and heavy. It joins with the lingering aroma of seared meat and makes my teeth ache with longing.
His stare strips me bare without a word, tracing how my yellow top clings to my curves, exposing the soft swell of my breasts as they rise and fall with my quickened breaths. My nipples harden under his gaze, and he doesn’t miss it.
It's funny and mortifying: me, trying to play the poised wife, all composed and elegant, yet melting like a nervous schoolgirl. I try to recover myself by forcing out a laugh, but it’s shaky around the edges and breathy. Even so, I soldier on. Meeting his starehead-on, I refuse to let him know how rattled I am, even as my pulse thunders in my ears.
I allow Emma’s words to embolden me:Indulge. You want him, he wants you. Why not?It sparks a reckless fire in me. I rise up on the tips of my toes, and my lips crash into his. My kiss is deep and heartfelt. My mouth reveals the desperation that's been building all day. My hands fist in his shirt, knuckles whitening as I pull him closer, pouring everything into my lips. All of it: the confusion, the raw desire, the undercurrent of fear. I taste the wine on his tongue, rich and oaky, as our mouths move in a rhythm that's terrifyingly new and yet achingly familiar. Electric sparks make my fingers tingle as his breath hot and ragged mingles with mine.
His arms wrap around my waist with possessive strength, pulling me flush against the hard lines of his body. I feel the firm ridge of his arousal pressing into my belly, sending a jolt straight to my core. It's like a dam has broken inside me. I feel unleashed as the kiss deepens, his stubble grazing my chin in a rough caress that sends shivers like tiny pinpricks racing down my spine.
He unbuttons his shirt, fingers deft and urgent, each pop of a button revealing more of the solid planes of his chest—tanned, sculpted, the muscles rippling under my touch. I slide my hands inside, exploring the scorching heat of his skin, smooth with a light dusting of hair. My thumbs circle his nipples in slow, teasing spirals, feeling them pebble into tight buds. Leaning in, I suck on them gently, lips sealing with a soft, wet pull and tongue flicking lightly to savor the salty warmth—then harder, drawing them deeper with insistent suction that pulls a sharp gasp from him.
He moans low and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine, resonating like a shared pulse deep in my bones. It makes my core clench with a fresh wave of ache, the wetnessbetween my thighs grows, arousal slicking my folds hot and urgent.
God, this is madness. It’s as if I’ve unleashed something wild and uncontrollable. My heart pounds like a war drum with each beat echoing the frenzy between us. His hands tangle in my hair, fingers weaving through with a tug that pulls tendrils free from my messy bun. The elastic snaps loose, and my hair cascades down. The faint scent of my shampoo mixes with our heady, shared musk, filling the air like an intoxicating haze.
