Page 74 of Eden's Deliverance

Dario looks at me like he’s bewitched, and I may not know him, but I do know what infatuation looks like. I’ve worn it enough on my own sleeve to know exactly what it means, and the things you’ll do just to have some of it returned to you. I don’t have it in me to disappoint him.

Alright, I may have spoken too soon.

Dario is a complete gentleman, totally worthy of my infatuation. He’s pulled out all the stops for this date—the whole kit and kaboodle.

Not only did he start the date by bringing me a bouquet of flowers, but he’s been opening every door for me, offering me his arm whenever we’ve had to walk more than a few feet to our next destination, and just draped his jacket over my shoulders because he noticed I was shivering.

I’ve learned that he’s only in town until the end of the year while he does marketing research for some company that deals in men’s apparel—suits and whatnot—though I find it difficult to catch all the details when his accent leaves me hanging off the edge of every word he says.

I did gather that his family lives back in Italy where he has two brothers, four cats, and a gorgeous villa near the coast. He likes to spend his free time reading, visiting museums, and experiencing all that American cuisine has to offer.

“So,” he starts, pulling on my hand to lower me onto the bench next to him. We had been walking through a park near campus, and decided to stop for a second to rest and take in the gorgeous scenery surrounding the main fountain that sits in the middle of the park. “Tell me about your dreams,tesoro.What makes you breathe, what makes your heart sing?”

The steady eye contact makes me uncomfortable, so I look down at my hands and pick at my cuticles. “Art. That’s my passion.” I glance up at him with a smile before returning to my fingers, fiddling nervously. “I’m actually apprenticing to become a tattoo artist. I think self-expression is one of the most important freedoms we have, and tattoos are such an aesthetically pleasing way to show the outside world who we really are on the inside.”

“I like that. I do not have any myself, but I might hope to one day,” he says. “Would you tattoo me?”

I look at him dumbfoundedly, my mouth hanging open in shock. “Really? You know I’m only a beginner, I’m not very good. But I could introduce you to—”

“No,diavolina.Only you.” Dario leans in, his face so close to mine that meeting his stare is unavoidable. “I want to see your passion. I want to see your heart sing.”

Well fuck.

We meet in the middle, the distance quickly closed as he wraps his fingers around the nape of my neck, pulling me in while his thumb strokes the edge of my jaw. The kiss is soft and sweet—not what I’m used to, but welcome.

The problem comes when I try to deepen our embrace, growing hungry for something more. He follows my lead at first, opening for me when I shove my tongue in his mouth, but he quickly closes the kiss and grips me by the shoulders to push away.

“Easy,amorina.” Dario titters, but when he sees the pain of rejection on my face, he clarifies. “I just mean…” After looking around us, he nods his head to the pathway near the fountain. “We have company. I would rather keep you to myself.” Sure enough, a couple circles around and struts toward us.

Now I just feel like an idiot. I don’t mean to let it, but a tear escapes and trails down my cheek. I’m able to swipe it away before he notices, but I still feel shameful. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’tdodating. My brain has been hardwired to jump straight for sex, and I’m about to embarrass myself because I don’t know how to separate the two anymore.

“Scarlett.” My name sounds so sweet coming from his lips, but I can’t look at him. When I don’t answer, he tries another tactic, grabbing my chin to turn my face. “Diavolina, come. I believe you owe me for last week, no?”

I know he must see my watery eyes, and even if he doesn’t fully understand what’s happening in my head, he clearly thinks this is what I want. I can’t help but smile in response.

He’s not wrong, but I don’t want to fuck anything up.

Regardless, I take his arm when he lifts me from the park bench and leads me to the car, tucking my hand into the nook of his extended elbow as we leave the park.

The drive home is quiet, but my mind is booming with excitement. Dario has his hand sitting on the top of my thigh, his thumb rubbing my skin so tenderly that the sensation shoots straight to my clit. I shuffle my hips to find a more comfortable position and relieve some of the pressure between my legs, but when I separate them an inch, his hand slides up my thigh. I toss my head back against the seat, so thrown off by the sudden movement that it steals my breath.

“Dario—”

“Shh. Open for me,bellezza. Let me feel you.”

Well, okay then. I thought I was over being ordered around, but I guess not. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched, I’ll take anything.

Doing as he said, I spread my legs as wide as my seat will allow me to, glancing down to track the movement of his hand. It rises higher up my thigh before reaching the waistband of my leggings, then slides inside and disappears from sight.

He takes his time exploring my pussy, dipping low enough to coat his fingers in the proof of my arousal before bringing them up to tease my clit. He works in slow, controlled movements that steadily bring me to the verge of an explosion, but before I can tip myself over the edge, the car comes to a full stop.

So does he.

I let out an audible sigh of frustration, but he just laughs at me. Removing his hand from between my legs, he steals any hope for my climax. Dario parks the car and turns to me, bringing his fingers to the contour of his lips before slipping them inside. He makes a big show of sucking them clean of me, but I’m not turned on by it.

I’m pissed.

Do I have a large sign plastered to my forehead that says, ‘please edge me, I fucking love it’? I didn’t think so. So why does every man who touches me think it’s an acceptable thing to do?

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