Page 236 of Modern Romance January 2025 5-8
And his kisses slowed a little, like turning down the gas, and he took her to a simmer.
She hated how they’d ended. It was her only regret in their turbulent time.
‘You left your scarf...’
She laughed at this most illogical reason for returning to his house, but it was good enough for now. ‘I did,’ she agreed, and her eyes closed as he kissed her to confirm, and the bells chimed in agreement, sweeping in a new day.
Her birthday.
It was not as if a louse like him would remember, but for now it didn’t matter—it was still the best birthday of her life.
‘Fai strada tu, Dante!’
Susie told him to lead the way and, picking up her skirts with one hand, holding his with the other, they walked together through the cobbled streets.
‘Your Italian is getting better every day,’ he told her.
‘Yes,’ Susie said, tongue in cheek. ‘We did terms of endearment this week.’ She laughed to herself. ‘Not that you’d know anything about them,’ she added with a teasing twist.‘Ciccina.’
‘Ciccino,’he corrected. ‘Iam the sweetheart.’
Oh, he was so far from sweet as he stopped their walk home to kiss her against a very cold wall.
‘What else?’ he asked as he kissed her shoulder.
‘Cucciolo,’she said.
She’d called him a puppy—a very affectionate term, but certainly not one that described Dante.
And then they made it to the gorgeous avenue and inside his door.
‘Come,’ he said, leading her towards the dining room. ‘We can dance here as we wanted to.’
‘I don’t want to dance any more,’ Susie said.
Her voice sounded unfamiliar, as if there was a new tone, one that had her shivering, and clearly it caused a reaction in him, for his hand halted as he pushed down the ornate handle. The dining door remaining closed as he stood utterly still.
‘Dance?’ he suggested again, and his voice was low too, husky.
He cleared his throat and turned around.
‘I really don’t want to,’ she said.
Then he met her eyes, and perhaps saw the fire that was blazing there. There was no time for dancing.
‘Oh, you know how to ruin plans,’ Dante told her as he scooped her up in his arms.
‘So do you,’ Susie said, putting her hands around his neck.
She only let go when he dropped her on the bed.
She lay in a cloud of pink and grey and closed her eyes as he lifted the hem of the gown to reveal the pale pink flesh of her thighs, and then impatiently he moved the material higher, up to her stomach.
‘Careful,’ she warned. ‘It’s not my gown.’
‘Shh,’ he told her.
And although it was clear he’d wanted them downstairs, in the firelit dining room, instead here they were—upstairs, the bed turned back, the mattress plump and waiting...