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He sighs softly as he moves closer. “Does it help that I feel the same way around you?”
I sigh, feeling bad for taking out my frustrations on him. What irks me isn’t the growing attraction between us but the knowledge that he has the power to undo me in a way that scares me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, exhaling gently. “I guess I’m just overwhelmed by everything. And you keep doing this,” I say, gesturing at his sculpted face.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like that,” I say quietly, feeling shy.
His expression changes, becoming darker and somehow softer at the same time. “How am I looking at you?”
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Because the truth is, he looks at me like I’m something he wants, and worse, like he’s already decided he will have me. There is an air of danger surrounding Dario that should scare me, yet when his attention settles completely on me, I feel strangely safe inside it.
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
His fingers brush a loose strand of hair away from my face. “Don’t berate yourself for wanting me, Bella.”
My breath catches the way it has every time he’s used that endearment. It makes me feel special in a way that no one has done, as if I’m the only one he sees. It’s not just the pet name, it’s the way he looks at me and his tone of voice when he says it.
No one makes me feel that cherished. And it makes me panic.
“I didn’t say I wanted you,” I blurt out.
Dario smiles. “You didn’t need to.”
He leans closer, but instead of kissing me, he asks quietly, “Why do you love horses so much?”
The sudden change catches me off guard. I blink. “What?”
“You heard me.”
I look toward Oscar, grateful for somewhere else to focus. “I’ve always loved them.”
“That’s not an answer.”
I smile faintly. “You sound like you’re interrogating me.”
“I ask questions when I want to know something.”
“And you always get answers?”
“Usually.”
There is that arrogance again. I should be annoyed. Instead, I find myself smiling. “My childhood wasn’t exactly easy,” I admit after a moment, running my fingers over Oscar’s mane. “Horses were…an escape. When everything around me became too much, I could go out with the horses and forget about it for a while. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t judge me. They just let me exist.”
Dario’s expression becomes unreadable. “What happened?”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
He studies me for several seconds, and I expect him to push. “Then you don’t have to,” he says instead. The simple acceptance catches me off guard.
He doesn’t demand an explanation. Doesn’t pry. Doesn’t tell me that I should trust him enough to share. He simply accepts the boundary.
“I fucking like that you have something that makes you happy,” he says.
I look at him.
