Page 184 of Modern Romance Collection December 2024 Books 5-8

DANTESTAGGERED. It hit him in waves. A breathless rush of emotion. Adrenaline. Warmth.

It hit him square in his chest and suddenly he could breathe again after what felt like an eternity.

And he gulped in the air that was finally hitting his lungs.

For weeks he’d searched. He’d jumped out of planes in order to feel something, anything. He’d prayed for it. For air. She had it. She had his air.

His chest squeezed.

And it was guttural. The noise rising in his chest. The rumble of pain. It scraped against his throat, clawed at the insides of his mouth and burst through his lips.

He groaned.

She stepped forward on her bare feet and reached for him.

‘Dante.’ She said his name in anguish. In distress. As though she had been waiting for him to arrive on her doorstep.

He stepped back.

She dropped her hand. And he felt the thump of it on her thigh. The withdrawal of her offer of kindness.

He didn’t deserve it. Her touch. Her softness. Her concern.

‘Come inside, Dante.’

He couldn’t. He shook his head. Clenched his teeth. It hurt. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to be in front of her and not inhale her. Press his nose into her skin and let her scent feed him. Revive him.

But he couldn’t reach out and touch the loose strands of hair falling from the knot on top of her head, couldn’t tuck them behind her ear. He couldn’t touch the pale flesh exposed beneath her burgundy camisole. The elegant column of her throat. Her naked shoulder. He could not trace his fingers down the beige lace sloping down her breasts. He could not get down on his knees and kiss her bare toes peeping out from beneath wide hemmed burgundy trousers.

Here he stood on the white stone steps, before the black door of the house he’d bought for her. To share with her. And he couldn’t go inside.

It wasn’t his house anymore.

He didn’t belong here.

He’d abandoned it all.

Abandoned her.

Backwards, he descended the steps. Until he stood at the bottom of the five stone steps looking up at the life he could have had. The woman he wanted. Still. Now.

Every adventure, every job, he’d come back to her. Back to this house. For her. She was his safe place. She was...

He searched her blue eyes, wide and watching him.

She was home.

She was warmth.

She was—

Waiting.

Regret clawed at his insides.

They could have made this house their place. A shared place of safety. Together.

A home.

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