“I’ve never had Vietnamese food before. I’ve been missing out.”
“Best I’ve had was on the streets of Saigon. The owner emigrated from there just before the Americans joined the fray. He started with a sandwich cart that served homemade banh mi and built up to the hole-in-the-wall restaurant he has now. I’ve eaten in fancier places, but they don’t even compare.” He picked up a spring roll and held it to her lips. “Open.”
Their eyes held as she opened her mouth and he fed her the endof the roll. She bit down on the fried rice paper, the delicate crunch balancing the tender shrimp. When he began to withdraw the roll toward him, her hand rose to settle on top of his, preventing it from getting too far away. The intimacy of him hand-feeding her was something she didn’t want to lose.
“Daleyza,” he began.
“Shh. Don’t. Just be in the moment.”
She took a second bite. This time, her lips settled around his fingertips, slowly drawing back as she savored the taste of his skin.
The tension grew tighter, like an invisible net stretched taut around contents that strained to break through the tightly woven spaces. When the weight of it became unbearable, she was the first to break away.
She had only meant to reset the equilibrium between them, yet somehow she’d managed to go beyond that, tipping the scales in the opposite direction. There had always been fire between them. Fire that burned like an inferno. This, however, threatened to consume them both.
She attempted to swallow the food, but it resisted going down her throat. When it stuck, she reached for her glass of water, hoping to ease its passage. When a single swallow refused to help, she forced herself to take several more. Finally, with effort, the food passed into her stomach.
Ildefanso popped the last third of the spring roll into his mouth, dropping his eyes to his food. The rest of the meal passed in silence.
Afterward, they worked together to clean up the leftover food and store it in the refrigerator. There was little left, which was good, considering they were leaving early in the morning.
“Seems a shame to throw it away before we leave,” she mused. “You still eat non-breakfast food in the morning?”
“Yes. Throwing it out would be a waste of a foodgasm,” he replied.
Shocked, she took in the look on his face, which also reflectedsurprise. She couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “What the hell is a foodgasm?”
He closed his eyes. “Mierda!I’ve really got to stop hanging around with Kubrick.” Shaking his head, he drew in a deep breath, exhaled, and explained. “She has a very unhealthy relationship with chocolate. It’s always been a bit of a… distraction… when she eats it around us. When we teased her about it the first time, that’s how she described the feeling when chocolate hits her taste buds. That it was so good it made her…” He wrapped a hand around the nape of his neck, refusing to look her in the eye. “Well, her eyes would roll back in her head, and she’d make this noise… like a moan when a woman…”
“Ildefanso Colonel! You’re blushing!”
“I am not,” he denied petulantly. “It’s just… It’s weird to hear that from your friend’s woman. Like you’re invading something private. And it’s even weirder talking about it with you.”
She’d never seen him like this before—a touch vulnerable, even embarrassed. He’d always been so strong and stoic. Assertive. Sure of himself to the point of annoyance at times. She liked this side of him that he’d never shown her before.
Feeling daring and like she should offer some of her own vulnerability, she stepped up to him. With the ghost of a touch, she traced his hairline from brow to ear, then ran the tip of her finger around the shell, down his jaw to his chin, then dropped her palm to his chest, where she laid it over his heart. She felt the beat quicken with each second she left it there.
“Did her foodgasm remind you of my responses to you?” She kept her eyes on her hand, her attention focused primarily on the racing tattoo beneath his skin.
“Daleyza.” His voice was a whisper, an unmistakable plea.
She looked up at him through her eyelashes. “It was always good between us.”
“Belleza, be careful,” he warned. “We’ve only been back in proximity for less than three days. This path is dangerous.”
“Fanso, we knew the moment we met at the altar that we had incredible chemistry. We may not have had sex the first night of our marriage, but it didn’t take us long to succumb to the passion between us.”
“It was different then.”
Genuinely confused, she asked, “How? We barely knew one another beyond the most surface level. Even though we were pawns in your father’s game, we couldn’t resist one another.”
“I’ve changed,” he lamented. “That man no longer exists.”
“And I’ve changed as well. But in the ways that matter, we are the same. You’re still protecting me. You still want me.” Her hands cupped his face. “I know you feel it. I see it in your eyes.”
“Leeza.” The anguish in his voice was clear. “Wanting you will never be in question.”
Anguish crossed his face, but it was fleeting. He was resigned to the truth she shared with him.
