Page 53 of Disarming Caine

She squeezed my hand tight and raised her glass. “To relaxing and slowing down time.”

I clinked my glass with hers and drank to that.

Anhourandahalf later, we’d made it through the formaggio e frutta, grilled peaches with mascarpone and Moscato d’Asti; then though dolce, panna cotta with raspberries. She sipped her limoncello, rubbing her foot along my calf.

“Not yet,” I’d said over and over. The more she drank, the more forward she became. But this was time for wooing. Making love would have to wait.

“Do you remember the limoncello we had in Capri? At the beach club?” She reached down to her side. Her shoe fell and she sank down in her chair, mischief in her eyes. The foot made its way up to my thigh and between my legs. I caught it before she arrived at her target and dug into it with my thumbs. Her lids slid closed, and she moaned. The sound vibrated inside me, through my belly, warm with wine and liqueur, doing more damage to my self control than anything else she’d tried.

I patted her foot and stood, lifting my chair and carrying it to her side of the table. I placed it next to her and sat, while she put her shoe back on and turned to face me. Pulling so close our knees intertwined, I took her hands in mine. Enough avoidance.

Bringing her hands to my lips, I kissed each of them tenderly, and stared into her glorious eyes. “I love you, Samantha Caine.”

Her hands twitched, but I held fast. She would not be rubbing her face through this conversation.

I moved her wineglasses out of the way and retrieved the white jewelry box, placing it on the edge of the table next to her.

She shifted in her seat, as though the box were about to bite her. “What is it?”

“A token of my affection.”

She stared at the box, clenching my hand. Her breathing was rough. How was this brave woman so scared of what I wanted from her? Did she still doubt me? Or was it herself she doubted?

“You know, bella, our relationship has progressed quickly.”

“Understatement.”

“I believe every great romance begins with a whirlwind. But it’s the calm winds at the center that keep it together.” I leaned closer to her, squeezing her hand, dropping my voice to a whisper. “You are my calm winds.”

“You know—” She tore her gaze from the box to look at me again. “—we could just go have sex instead.”

I spluttered a laugh. “Not yet, I said. Stop being so stubborn and open it already.”

“Fine.” She rolled her eyes and dropped my hand, retrieving the box.

Time slowed. So much depended on this. My trip home, my hopes for our future, my worries about being apart. I never hid my feelings from her, despite her occasional discomfort. Someone as closed off as her needed someone as open as me.

Her body tensed, and her fingers shifted this way and that, turning the box over. With a deep breath, she creaked it open. And her face fell. “What the—?”

“Keys!” I took the three keys on their ring out of the box and showed her I’d numbered them. “One for the exterior door, two for the elevator, and three for the condo.”

Her brow was tight.

“I came home to spend time with you.” I put the keys in her palm and closed her hand around them. “I understand you can’t just take off work, but you were gone for twelve hours today, and that only leaves me with so much time with you. We have ten more nights together, and I don’t want to miss a single moment with you. I want you to move in with me.”

“Move in with you?” Her voice had raised a full octave.

I had to bring her back down to her comfort level. “Just for the nights I’m here.”

“Is this because they’re kicking me out of the hotel? Is this a pity move in?”

“Well, that’s a very logical reason for you to say yes. But, no. I spoke with the concierge after you left this morning and had them made.”

Her face hardened further. How was that the wrong response?

“Bella, you were alone for a long time before we met, and I understand changing that is hard for you.”

Instead of rubbing her hands over her own face, she reached for my cheek, saying nothing, her face softening.