She leads me inside. Watches my face as I take it in.
Cozy. Warm. Full of color in a way I didn’t expect. Teal pillows on the couch, bright curtains, a yellow throw blanket draped over an armchair. Evidence of someone fighting against the beige she mentioned hating.
“I know it’s not what you’re used to,” she says, and I realize I’ve been silent too long. “It’s small and the water pressure is terrible but it’s…”
“It’s you.”
She stops.
“It’s you,” I repeat. “That’s all that matters.”
She turns away, moves toward the kitchen, starts fussing with glasses that don’t need fussing.
I let her.
I look around. Catalog the details the way I’ve been trained to catalog everything.
Her bedroom door’s open just slightly. Through the gap I can see a flash of grey fabric on the bed. A shirt.
I look closer. My shirt.
The one I told her she could keep.
She wears it. Still.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks from the kitchen, voice pitching up like a flight attendant during turbulence. “Wine? Tea? Aphrodisiac in a mug?”
I cross the room. She turns at the sound of my footsteps. Her back’s against the counter and I’m in front of her, close enough to touch, not touching yet.
“Dario?”
“You kept my shirt.”
She blinks. “What?”
I nod toward the bedroom. “My shirt.”
She bites her lip, unrepentant. “You didn’t expect me not to become emotionally attached to it, did you? It smells like mobster and wall sex.”
God, she’s adorable when she deflects.
“I’m a sentimental hoarder. I’m in therapy. Was in therapy.”
“Stevie.” Her name comes out rough.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to kiss you now.”
She doesn’t answer. Just reaches up, fists her hand in my shirt, and pulls me down to her.
Her mouth is soft. She tastes like wine and almonds. My hands find her waist, her back, the curve of her hip. She makes a sound against my lips, and I feel it everywhere.
More. I want more.
I press her back against the counter. She goes willingly, arms wrapping around my neck, pulling me closer. The kiss deepens.Her teeth catch my bottom lip and I growl, a sound I’ve never made in my life, and suddenly my hands are in her hair and her leg is wrapping around mine and we’re not kissing anymore, we’re consuming each other.
“Dario.”
