Page 32 of Redeem

That was an alarming and unfamiliar sensation. It had been years since I’d even considered what someone else might think, and I had never placed the importance on it that I did now. It was that care that kept me rooted in the kitchen. He probably thought I was nuts. I’d been quite clear in my interest, and now I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.

“Dana, come here.”

I turned at the sound of Ciprian’s voice and tracked him to where he sat on the vintage sofa that I had reupholstered myself. The shadows of the dimming evening partially hid his face, but nothing could lessen the intensity of his stare.

Those dark eyes on me simultaneously snuffed out any nerves and ignited a fire that only he could extinguish.

I walked toward him slowly, feeling far more calm than I would have expected and grateful for the hours that had passed since our return. I’d wanted to pounce on him the instant we reached the farm, but now, I was glad I hadn’t. My emotions had been too harried, too muddled, but the time had calmed them, and now, I could enjoy this moment that seemed so unlikely but that had been in the making since the very first time I’d seen him.

I was ready.

More than.

I stopped in front of him, my denim-clad knee brushing his.

I locked eyes with him, then looked down at the spot next to him to the string of foil packets that lay at his side. A purchase I’d made on a whim during my last trip to town, one I was quite thankful for now, as I was thankful for Ciprian’s resourcefulness at finding them.

“You were certain,” he said, his voice giving away nothing but his eyes glinting.

“How do you know those are for you?” I asked.

I’d said the words without real thought, that impulse to push back against his words getting the better of my common sense, and even the truth. I looked down, my gaze centered on his chest, which was impossibly broad. I was so focused on his chest that I didn’t notice he’d moved his hand until he curled his fingers around my breast.

He squeezed, sending my tight nipple into the palm of his hand as his fingers kneaded my flesh roughly. I sighed, shifted, the low pulse that had centered between my thighs notching up as I leaned into his hand, desperate for more of his touch. My sigh became a moan when he released my breast, twisted my nipple hard, the sharp bite of pain giving way to a warm rush of pleasure.

When Ciprian dropped his hand, I lifted my eyes to his quickly. I’d been flippant, almost cruel in my words, and I expected to see annoyance, possibly anger in his gaze.

I didn’t.

Instead I saw a coolness that came from security. “You were certain,” he repeated.

“I was hopeful,” I replied.

Ordinarily, I’d resent that he’d so thoroughly taken the upper hand, that he was so sure of me and my reactions. But I couldn’t be resentful, not now, when everything in me cried out for him.

As if sensing my need, he reached for my hand, engulfing it in his much larger one and pulling me forward until I was standing between his legs. Even sitting, he was nearly as tall as I was, and this close I could see the moisture that still clung to his hair, the heat that now lit his eyes.

He stared up at me, his face so intense, the few inches that separated us not nearly enough to give me any sanctuary from his scrutiny.

But I didn’t look away, couldn’t, and even more, I didn’t want to.

I didn’t understand this, didn’t understand the hold he had over me. I hadn’t felt as right as did in this moment, had never felt as right as I did in this moment, as special, loved, as I did when he looked at me.

It was insane, but everything about me, about this, was insane.

And I was done questioning it.

I stepped closer, my thighs grazing his strong, muscled legs, the material of my jeans and his pants keeping our skin from touching. That separation only served to inflame my need.

“Oh!” I exclaimed when he moved forward, brushed his lips against my collarbone. My stomach was alight with feeling, but it wasn’t nerves, anxiousness, even sadness.

No, it was pure, delicious, seemingly fathomless desire.

He’d only barely just kissed me, and I thought I would explode. Would I be able to stand more?

I didn’t know, but I intended to find out.

I moved even closer, began to touch his arms, let my fingers move up to curl in the dark hair at the base of his neck. I sighed, realized that I was pushing him closer. He nipped at my collarbone, moved his lips up to kiss the base of my throat, my jaw.

---