Page 177 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

And she was still afraid now.

But he was her match.

And she was his.

Together, what if they could beat the fear?

Together, what if they could learn to love and define it for themselves?

Together, what if they could transcend?

Hope bloomed inside her.

‘I need to tell you something.’

‘Should I call a doctor?’ he asked, and she saw it. The flash of worry.

He cared.

She shook her head.

It wasn’t enough.

‘I remember.’

His mouth opened, those competent lips she wanted to kiss again and again, until she was breathless with his kiss.Now.In this penthouse suite in Japan. She wanted to kiss his cheeks again, his stubbled jaw, his eyelids; she wanted to tell him she knew him again. She knew his face. And she wanted to take him somewhere too. Somewhere new, where they both could live in safety, wrapped in the warmth of love. To prove to him that they were the same. They belonged together.

She closed her eyes, because it was easier to confess when she wasn’t looking at him. At the face of the man she loved.

‘I remember everything,’ she confessed, and her heart raged in a deafening roar. ‘I remember why I left. Why I ran away from you—’ And she faltered, shame stabbing into her core. Because she had been weak, and she had abandoned him like everyone else in his life. She would not abandon him now, not without explanation at least.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I—’ Slowly, she opened her eyes. Looked at him.

She would not hide anymore. She would own her feelings and she would survive them.

He deserved her love.

She deserved his.

They deserved each other’s.

And so she let him in. His dark gaze, Emma let it in behind the walls she’d built.

‘I was afraid,’ she confessed.

‘Of what?’ he asked, and she heard the hardness in his voice. The resistance to whatever was happening between them. Because it was happening. The air was thick with it. With change. With possibilities.

‘I was scared of you, Dante,’ she confessed. ‘Of what you made me feel. I feared for myself.’

‘I’ve never given you reason to fear—’

‘And yet I was afraid,’ she said. ‘I broke the rules. I got emotionally attached. I caught feelings. I am having feelings right now. Big feelings. Scary feelings, Dante. And I am afraid still. Afraid when I tell you, when I confess what it is I have done—what I am doing, what I feel—you will send me away.’

‘Come to bed, Emma,’ he said, and this time, it was not a request. It was a demand. And he moved towards her. And all she could see was him. Dante Cappetta. Her husband. The man who had given her the tools to heal herself. The man who held her hand. Her body. The man who took care of her.

And she wanted to take care of him. She wanted to hold his hand. She wanted to shelter him from the hardness with her body. But she wanted his heart. She wanted to put it in a safe place and hold it with her own. She wanted to love him and she wanted him to love her.

‘In bed, I will claim your big feelings with my lips,’ he said, and took another step closer. ‘I will drive myself inside you until the bigness of your feelings can escape. As we have always done. When we make love. When I love your body, there is no fear. No escape from the flame within us. In bed, we let it roar, let it consume us.’ Another step. ‘Do not be afraid of it. Do not fear—’

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