I giggle and palm his chest. “We can do it,” I say, infusing as much confidence as I can, sensing it’s important for him.
He nods, breathing in deeply. “What does my woman want to do?”
It hits me straight in the chest, where an explosion of rainbows ensues. Not only because he called me his, but because he asked me. No one ever inquires about my wishes.
“Really?” I sound so pathetic; I can’t even hide my eyes welling up, overcome by emotions. Men in my world simply take. He offers first. I am not that naïve as to think he won’t take, but his genuine interest makes the biggest difference.
He cups my cheek, and I lean into his touch. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I am here now. I have you. You’ll never be alone, Viviana. You’ll never fear. I’ll make you my queen. But first…” He closes his eyes for a moment as if something pains him, which prompts me to ask.
“First what?”
“First, we just are.”
Just are. No pressure. No responsibility—a vacation from life.
Something tells me responsibility fills his as well.
“That sounds perfect.”
Our lips come together in sweet bliss, sealing the promise with a kiss that makes me believe everything will be all right.
Standing up with me in his arms, I yelp.
“Bring your stuff into my room,” he says, gently placing me down.
I am about to act when he smacks my ass, eliciting a laugh.
It’s unreal. Definitely a dream.
By the time I am done, I find him downstairs, looking mouthwatering in a pair of jeans and a cable-knit sweater matching my attire.
In his suits, he’s lethal, but in casual wear, yummy.
He waits for me with breakfast, and a dreamy sigh rolls out of my mouth.
Taken care of. Spoiled. That’s how I feel.
He’s quite literal, isn’t he?
I should put a stop to this and not delve deeper into this fantastical realm, but every second I spend with him makes me less reasonable and more his.
“I’ve always wanted to go horseback riding,” I say, sipping from my coffee nonchalantly as if being this open, sharing my dreams and wishes with him, is the most natural thing. “But first I would have to learn how to.”
Even though he gives me the impression he could give me everything, the fact is my parents have shielded me all my life. Horse riding was deemed too dangerous—more for my hymen than my life. Oh, the irony.
“Then you’ll learn.”
“Can you?” I ask, this surreal experience has a chokehold on me.
He nods, and after we finish breakfast, he takes my hand, and walks me outside. Opening the door of his silver sports car for me, he rounds it and slips into the driver’s seat.
This car fits him so well—raw power dipped in decadent elegance.
The engine purrs to life, making me vibrate in my seat.
Opening the window, the wind caresses my arm as we pass a forest. Dark red and yellow-colored leaves swirl around, dancing in the air in a last act before blanketing the ground. There’s beauty in decay, the end ushering rebirth, the fall spectacleprompting me to shed the old me for something stronger to emerge.
I am living instead of solely existing, and it’s refreshing.
