Page 32 of Marcello DeLuca

The future terrifies her.

She won’t be ready to move forward until she gets closure.

Eventually, we disentangle and dress.

An hour later, Safia stands in front of our bedroom mirror, adjusting her top one last time. Her fingers smooth the fabric with meticulous care. She gives herself a once-over.

Turning to me, she offers a smile meant to ease my worries.

“Where did you say you were going again?” I question.

“Uncle James wants to shop for a sofa, so we’re going to several furniture stores,” she responds, adjusting her top. Her voice is light, almost teasing, as she smooths her curly hair down.

“He’s finally going to replace his furniture?” I ask.

Her eyes sparkle with mischief. “No. He’s getting it for his girlfriend as a Valentines Day gift. He wants to surprise her with it when she comes home from work. Says her love language is receiving gifts.”

“Check out Uncle James being romantic and following his woman’s love language.” I lean back, crossing my arms, imagining James going furniture shopping for his woman. It’s a side of him I rarely see, more tender and thoughtful.

“You’d better take notes. I bet you don’t even know my love language,” she says, smirking.

“You can’t be serious, woman. I know everything about you, including how many wrinkles are on your big toe. I know your love language.”

“Under no circumstance am I chasing the comment about the wrinkles on my toe. So, tell me, what is my love language?”

“You like to be touched. Here,” I relay, my voice low and tender, as I place my hand on the small of her back. I feel the subtle arch of her spine under my palm, a delicate curve that always sends a thrill through me.

She breathes in softly, her body instinctively leaning into my touch. I let my fingers trace slow, gentle circles, savoring the way she relaxes beneath my touch.

“And here,” I continue, my other hand gliding up to gently rest around her neck. I give it a light, reassuring squeeze, feeling the steady pulse of her heartbeat against my fingertips. “You love it when I touch you here.”

Her eyes flutter closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. I can see the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, her body attuned to every movement.

“There’s something about these spots,” I murmur, leaning in closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear. “It’s like they’re made just for me to touch.”

Safia’s hand comes up to rest over mine at her neck, her fingers curling around mine in a silent affirmation. There’s a flicker of a soft smile on her lips.

“I guess you know that touch is one of my love languages,” she says, her voice a soft murmur that vibrates through me. “I also like quality time.”

A chuckle rumbles low in my chest. “You do, and that’s why I give you plenty of it.” My thumb brushes the delicate skin at the base of her neck, feeling the slight quickening of her pulse under my touch. “In fact, I would like to give you some right now.”

Safia’s smile widens.

I lean in closer, press a gentle kiss to her forehead, and savor the soft sigh that escapes her lips.

“But,” I continue, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze, “if you intend to go on that shopping trip with your uncle, I suggest you walk away now.” There’s a playful challenge in my tone, but she knows seriousness always lurks when it comes to our intimacy.

Her eyes search mine. “Is that so?” she asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes.” My fingers tighten slightly around hers in a gentle but firm hold. “Because if you don’t, I might not let you go.”

She laughs softly, the sound like music to my ears. “You know, you make it very hard to leave,” she teases, her voice laced with affection.

I pull her closer until our foreheads touch. The closeness fills me with a profound sense of contentment. “That’s the idea,” I murmur, my lips brushing hers in a tender kiss.

“Don’t forget to stay close to your security team,” I command, inhaling her familiar scent that always grounds me, a blend of jasmine and something uniquely hers. “I will lose my mind without you.”

“Of course, I’ll have my security team with me at all times,” she says, her expression turning serious. “You know, they won’t let me get more than three feet away anyway.”

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