Page 103 of Temporary Vows

It’s Cohiba cigars. I recognize the brand. My father always used to smoke those.

Dorian takes one out and lights up, the flame briefly illuminating the sharp planes of his jaw. He draws in a slow, measured drag, closing his eyes for a moment to savor the taste and the quiet pull of whatever it is the smoke gives him.

I get lost watching him, my gaze trailing over the hard lines of muscle beneath his shirt and the dark shadow along his jaw. When smoke curls into the air as he exhales, he reminds me of those adverts, the kind with devastatingly hot men who could make your toes curl with a single look.

Dorian Vale could make anything look effortlessly sexy, and shamelessly, something tightens low in my core.

His eyes flutter open and look straight back at me, his gaze sharper with something darker than what was previously there.

The sudden connection catches me off guard. I swallow the cake quickly, past the lump that’s gathered in my throat.

“You smoke?” His voice is too quiet for him.

“No.”

His lips quirk into another one of his alluring half smiles, and he sighs. “Does it bother you, Little Lamb?”

Of all the things he does that bother me, smoking isn’t one of them. “No.”

He comes closer. “If it did, you can say so.”

I raise my brows. “I’m not going to tell you what to do in your home.”

“This is your home now, too.” He takes another drag, and the embers on the butt glow a fiery orange.

“I guess so.” Best to agree, though this will never feel like home to me. I keep thinking one day, I’ll just get used to it, perhaps then it will. Until then, I’ll always feel like a guest.

“Don’t worry, I don’t smoke often, and I won’t do it around our kids.” He gives me a cocky wink.

The thought of having children with him makes my body heat.Again. “Oh. Good.” I stumble over what to say but am glad that I sound composed.

Something flickers in his gaze, darkening his eyes to a stormy blue, then he cocks his head and studies me. “What’s your obsession with England?”

Another thing to catch me off guard.

It’s not the first time someone has asked me that. But I’m thrown off kilter because he sounds like he really wants to know. It’s the first time he’s shown interest in me beyond the trouble I had with Marcus.

“I’ve always been like that,” I begin, setting the fork down. “At first, I found my love for it through books and authors who made the land sound like a magical place. Everything else came after. It’s crazy I haven’t been there yet.” God, I’m rambling.

His gaze drops to my lips, lingers there, then lifts back to my eyes, but his expression is unreadable. I don’t even know if he heard what I said.

“I’m sure you’ll get there some day.” I’m sure he said something similar when we spoke at the coffeehouse.

He returns to the island and finally cuts himself a slice of cake, then reaches for one of the small spice bottles at the side. It’s a dark red powder, but I’m not entirely sure what it is. Lightly, he dusts it over the top.

The cake has such a unique taste, I can’t imagine wanting to taint it with anything else.

He sets the cigar on a tray and starts eating, and I can’t help but watch him as he quietly enjoys it. It’s so rare to see any kind of emotion on Dorian’s face that the moment feels almost cinematic—like something I should capture and keep.

“What did you put on there?” I ask, eyeing the bottle, still trying to figure it out.

Dorian glances up at me and shakes his head. “It’s a secret.”

“A secret?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Then I have to try it, too,” I tease.