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Let’s hope she wants that too.
I rest my back against the soft velvet sofa, a complete contrast to my, quite frankly, cold and unwelcoming black leather one in my penthouse, and inhale everything Arianna. It smells like vanilla and lemon and something else that’s much fresher than that. Pine maybe? Hell knows. It’s nice though.
My eyes land on the photo over the fake fireplace that’s covered in more of her jewel-colored knick-knacks and I knowstraightway that it’s her parents and sister. Emerald eyes and dark hair. Arianna looks just like her mom.
My fists clench in annoyance, angry for all the time she lost with them. What I wouldn’t do to bring them back for her.
I face life-and-death cases every day. Some of those days it kills me hearing what others have suffered. Specializing in personal injury cases, I don’t deal with small claims and someone who might have sprained a finger while tying their shoelace and want to sue the sneaker company. What I do is different. I represent people who have genuinely been screwed over and have lost their nearest and dearest or their health due to incompetence or the gross negligence of others.
Every year my brothers and I take on dozens of pro bono cases. It feels good to give back.
The sound of Arianna heading toward the living room makes me sit straighter in my seat and when she walks through the door with her head down and fiddling with a bracelet, my heart stops.
Fuck me. She’s a goddess.
Wrapped in gold silk, hair pinned up, some strands left down at the front that frame her delicate features, accentuating her Bambi-size eyes, she steals all the air from my lungs.
“Could you help me with this?” Sounding flustered, she finally gives up fighting with the fiddly clasp and looks up.
My mouth goes completely dry, and I cough, willing my saliva glands to function properly. “You look beautiful.” If this is what she bought with Joseph the other day, I’m promoting him to Arianna’s personal shopper.
Her cheeks turn a soft shade of rosy pink before she asks, “Is my dress okay?” She looks down at herself as if unsure.
“Perfect.” My brain is glitching again, something that only happens when I’m around her.
“My shoes are cute.” She lifts her foot to show me the huge gold bow around the back of her ankle that matches the gold of her dress. “Thank you for all of this.” She lays her foot back on the floor at the same time I walk to her to help her with her bracelet.
“You don’t need to thank me for the dress. It was made for you.” My voice is gruff but full of sincerity, and I love that the fire within her to stick thousands of dollars on my credit card wasn’t a threat; she fucking did it and I’m happy she did. But how the hell will I get through the night with her looking this enchanting? She’s a vision. I’m spellbound. “Here, let me.” I point to her bracelet and take it from her.
As I lean closer, the whiff of her perfume invades my nostrils, making my pulse quicken.
Steadying my hands, I pinch the tiny gold clasp between my fingertips. It’s fragile and soft, and I don’t want to damage it. “Is this new?”
“It was my mom’s.”
“It’s special.” I pause before continuing. Knowing the delicate bracelet belonged to her mother makes me handle it with greater care. “Like you.”
“She was but I’m not that special.” She brushes away my compliment.
“You are undeniably special, Arianna.” When I click the bracelet into place, I realize just how big my hands are compared to her dainty wrists, and how much I would like to wrap my hands around them and pin her against the wall like I did before.
I’m tempted, but I want to show her there is more to us than just sexual chemistry.
I brush my thumb lightly over her pulse point. I’m not ready to pull away, so I move my hand down to hers and link our fingers before lifting her hand to my lips, and as if captivated, she follows my movement and smiles when I kiss the back of it.
“You’re very sweet when you want to be.” Her voice is barely audible.
“Sweet?” I grin back at her, moving closer, my mouth hovering over hers.
“Yeah.” She rises on her tiptoes and kisses me first. And it’s so unexpected because she’s been resisting me for weeks, driving me insane, but her making the first move breathes new life into any possibility of us.
Her lips feel soft, like what I imagine delicate dragonfly wings fluttering against my skin would feel like.
“I don’t want to ruin your lipstick,” I say, when all I really want to do is kiss her shiny lips for eternity and smudge it.
“It’s clear lip gloss, it’s fine.” She cups my face with her hand and kisses me again, much firmer this time. “But it’s time to go.” I feel her smile against my mouth.
“Let’s stay in.” I run my nose along hers, making her giggle. I love that sound.