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“Even though you’re into ballet and opera, it feels as if there’s something edgy about you that I can’t quite place my finger on.” Her foot rubs up and down my shin, as she admits, “It has a weird pulling effect on me. It makes me want to dig beneath all the expensive clothes to see what you’re hiding.” Looking at me from over the rim of her cup, she murmurs, “Do you have a dark side, Dario?”
You have no idea, Tesoro. I have a long list of bodies lying in my wake, but that’s a conversation for another time.
Bringing my hand to her face, I trail my fingers along the sexy curve of her jaw. “Everyone has a dark side.”
She finishes the last of her coffee and sets the cup down on the rickety coffee table before she snuggles against my side again.
After a few minutes of silence, she asks, “Do you really want to date someone like me?”
I don’t hesitate to answer, “Yes.”
She tilts her head back to meet my eyes. “Do you think it could work between us?”
I nod. “Definitely.”
Her gaze searches mine for something. “Are you going to break my heart?”
I set my coffee down so I can place my hand against her cheek, and giving her an earnest look, I promise, “I’ll never hurt you intentionally.”
She pushes closer to me until I can feel her breath warming my lips. “Where do we go from here?”
“We date,” I murmur before brushing my mouth against hers. “No seeing other people. I don’t share.”
“I don’t share either,” she whispers as she crawls onto my lap. “If you cheat on me, I’ll key your sports car.”
I let out a burst of laughter. “I’m a one-woman-at-a-time man.”
“Good.” She presses kisses along my jaw and down my throat, then whispers against my skin, “You smell so good.”
I wrap my arms around her and squash her to my chest as my mouth finds hers. Again, I have to restrain her so I can kiss her deeply.
Lifting my head, I ask, “Have you never just made out with a guy?”
She lets out a chuckle. “That’s so old school. No one does that anymore.”
“I do.” My eyes caress her beautiful face. “I love just kissing.”
“Talking about old school. How old are you?” she asks.
“Thirty-one. You?”
“I’m not nearly as old as you,” she says teasingly. “I’m twenty-four.”
My phone starts ringing, and it has Eden moving off my lap. I dig the device out, and seeing Franco’s name so late at night, I say, “I have to take the call.”
“Okay.”
I get up and answer, “What’s up?”
“Renzo says you’re seeing someone. Why am I the last to find out?” he mutters.
“It’s still brand new. I was going to tell you the next time I saw you.”
“What’s her name?”
“Eden...” I pause, my eyes flying to her as I realize I don’t know her last name.
“What’s your last name?” I ask.
