Blue Roses(20)

“Thanks again for the flowers,” I tell him.

“I didn’t just bring you flowers.”

“Oh. Thanks for the wine. It was excellent. You have a good wine cellar.”

He chuckles, then leans back to pull something from his jeans pocket. He hands me a jewelry box. It’s bigger than a ring box, but smaller than a necklace box.

My hands tremble as I reach for the velvet case. Jewelry? On the fourth date? Cosmopolitan magazine did not prepare me for this scenario.

“Open it,” he says, sounding like an excited kid on Christmas day.

I snap open the box. Inside is a charm bracelet, with several charms already connected to it. I pull the bracelet out to examine the charms. One is a tiny little hammer. There’s also a motorbike, a flower pot, and a tea cup.

I wave one hand to fan my face.

My throat is tight, and I can just barely rasp, “This is too much.”

He taps the tea cup with the end of his square, flat fingernail. “This one is the cutest, and you know I’m not a man who uses the word cutest often.”

I gasp. “The tea cup is from when we had breakfast at Delilah’s.” My eyes are welling up, and I feel raw with emotion.

“Don’t cry again,” he says.

“These are happy tears.”

He takes the bracelet from my hand and very carefully undoes the clasp. I hold my left wrist out, and he fastens the bracelet around my wrist.

I admire the bracelet, turning my wrist back and forth.

“I wish I’d got you something,” I say.

“Tina, you made me dinner, plus you’ve already given me so much. This dark cloud of dread has been hanging over me since I got the keys to the garage. I thought I’d made the worst decision of my life. But then I met you, and now I feel like I’m on the right path.”

“I’m your good luck charm.”

He agrees with me by kissing me.

His lips are firm, pushing hard against mine. I suck his lower lip into mine and hold it captive to slow him down.

He moans into my lips, and the vibration of his deep voice travels through me with pleasure.

We kiss, and soon our hands are entwined in each other’s hair.

He leans over and reaches around me, like he’s going to hug me. He grabs me firmly by the waist and lifts me up and onto his lap, facing him. My legs straddle his, and my skirt rides up, exposing my underwear.

I quickly fix my skirt to conceal myself, but he already saw, and laughs like he’s gotten away with something very naughty. His chest rumbles when he laughs. I feel it through my whole body.

We kiss some more, and I note how perfect it is, sitting on his lap like this. Our mouths are at the same height, and the feeling of his legs between mine is more intoxicating than the wine I drank.

The longer we kiss, the more relaxed I get. I shift closer and closer, until I’m bumping against the business area of his lap. He moans as I tilt my hips and press against him.

The vibration of his voice sets off explosions of lust inside me. I reach down and grab his shirt to pull it off.

He raises his arms to help, and then I toss the shirt aside and take in his bare chest. First, I use my eyes. He’s got some chest hair, the same light brown color as his hair. He’s not super hairy, but he does look like a man. A very powerful, muscled man.

My hands join in the excitement. First, I run my fingertips across the broad, square muscles of his pectorals. He flexes under my touch.

I start over from the top, with my hands on either side of his face. He’s got such a nice, square jaw, and it’s only complemented by his bare chest. I smooth my way down his neck, and knead the thick muscles connecting to his shoulders. I think I have decent shoulder muscles, from moving heavy buckets of water around the shop, but there’s no comparison.

My hands glide over his chest again, and then below. His skin is smooth and hot, begging to be touched. I trace the contours of his abdominal muscles, and follow the line of curly hair down to the waistband of his jeans.

He’s been holding still, just watching me look at him, but now he reaches to my back, feeling around for a zipper.

I smile, because there is no zipper. This is a jersey-knit dress that lifts off like a T-shirt, but he doesn’t know that. My smile gets bigger as he keeps searching for a zipper or buttons, his forehead furrowing.

I glance around to make sure we have privacy. The blinds on the windows are closed, which is a relief. Even though the lights are dimmed, with all the big windows facing the lawn, at nighttime the cottage may as well be a brightly-lit display case.

Luca mutters something about tearing off my dress. I push his hands away and whip it off over my head in one smooth motion.

He gets quiet, staring at my chest. He looks up at my face, his blue eyes bright and shining. He smiles and holds his big hands up to my cheeks, then moves to my neck and kneads my shoulders, rocking me.