Page 88 of Shattered By Grace

Then he turned back to the stove, moving with that same fluid grace, but his presence never quite left her. She watched him, transfixed as he plated the spaghetti, steaming, fragrant, with fresh parm grated over the top and basil scattered like an afterthought, though nothing about it seemed casual. The wayhe worked, the way he moved, everything he did felt personal, like he was offering her a piece of himself with each action.

Tristan met her gaze over his shoulder, that dark, intense look returning to his eyes. The rawness of the moment hung in the air, thick and charged. He didn’t smile. Not yet. But there was something in the way his eyes held hers, something that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Enjoy,” Tristan murmured, that slow, crooked smile pulling at his lips as he placed the steaming dish in front of her. The spaghetti was beautifully simple, yet it smelled so damn good her stomach gave a happy, eager lurch.

Victoria’s mind shifted rapidly as she inhaled the rich aroma, her thoughts scattering fromdamn he’s gorgeoustois it poisonedtoI’m starving. The music still played softly in the background, wrapping them in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the sound like a soft caress, blending perfectly with the heat swirling between them.

Tristan slid into the stool next to her, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body just inches away. He didn’t crowd her, but he didn’t pull back either. She could feel the presence of him, solid and steady beside her, and it made her want to lean into it, to reach out, to close the space between them and see what else was there.

“This looks amazing, Tristan. Thank you.” Her voice was softer than usual, tinged with a genuine appreciation for the dish, and maybe a bit more than that. She hadn’t expected any of this, least of all the quiet, tender side of him that was starting to creep out in these small moments.

His smile deepened, something in his eyes flickering at her words. “It’s the least I could do,” he replied, his tone low, smooth. Almost like he was savoring the moment just as much as she was.

She picked up her fork, the tension still thick between them, but the warmth of the food was enough to draw her in. She took the first bite, and her eyes closed involuntarily at how good it was. Simple, but comforting. Her stomach didn’t just appreciate it, it reveled in it.

When she opened her eyes again, Tristan was watching her, that same quiet intensity lingering between them.

“Good?” he asked, his voice softer than before, a genuine curiosity there.

Victoria nodded, taking another bite, unable to hide the smile that tugged at her lips. “It’s perfect,” she said, and for a moment, all the noise in her head quieted.

After Tristan finished his bowl, he pushed it aside, his gaze never leaving her. He sat back slightly, leaning against the counter, and just watched her.

“What?” Victoria asked, her voice a little too sharp, feeling the heat of his stare settle over her skin. Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t help but fidget under his intense gaze.

“Nothing,” Tristan replied, a slow, teasing smirk creeping across his face. “Just... you have sauce right here.”

Victoria froze, her fingers halting mid-air before she could reach for the napkin. But before the words even fully registered, Tristan moved. His hand reached out, so effortlessly graceful, and in one smooth motion, he touched her face.

The softness of his fingers, just brushing the corner of her lips, was enough to send a wave of heat through her. He was tender, almost careful, but there was something about the way he touched her that made every nerve in her body hum with anticipation. It wasn’t just a gesture of cleaning her up. It felt... smoldering.

Before she could react, the storm outside raged harder. The lights flickered once, then completely cut out, plunging them into darkness.

Victoria blinked, a slight laugh escaping her lips. “Great. Of course, the power goes out now.” She didn’t know whether to feel frustrated or amused.

But Tristan wasn’t fazed. He stood up, his eyes glimmering even in the low light of the candles still flickering on the counter. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice rich and smooth like melted chocolate.

“Right now? The power’s out, and the music’s gone,” Victoria responded, her heart pounding in her chest.

Tristan didn’t respond with words, only with a soft, knowing smile. He grabbed her hand, his fingers warm against her skin as he pulled her from the stool.

She didn’t resist, letting him guide her effortlessly toward the center of the room. The candles cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the intensity in his eyes. She could see every line, every subtle shift in his expression as he looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered.

Then, he began to hum a familiar, slow melody that wrapped around her, pulling her deeper into the moment.

Her chest tightened, the sound of his voice a quiet, soothing comfort in the otherwise still room. Without another word, Tristan began to move, pulling her into a slow dance. His hands rested on her waist, and she instinctively placed hers on his chest, the closeness making her breath catch.

Victoria’s body swayed with him, and she realized, in that moment, that he wasn’t just moving to the rhythm. He was leading her in a dance that felt intimate, timeless. His movements were deliberate but fluid, controlled but not stiff. Almost like he’d been taught, like he’d spent hours perfecting this. And it was all so... sensual.

The soft flicker of the candlelight, the hum of his voice, and the way his body moved against hers—it was like everything inthe world had fallen away. It was just the two of them, wrapped up in the moment, the storm outside forgotten.

For the first time, the control Tristan held over the situation felt effortless, the tension between them building with every step, every small touch of his hand on her waist, every breath they shared.

Victoria felt the world tilt, her heart racing, her thoughts scattered. She wasn’t sure if it was the storm outside or the storm Tristan was stirring inside her. Either way, she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to leave.

The backup generator clicked on, the faint hum of power returning to the house, but the moment between them didn’t change. The lights didn’t fully illuminate the room, leaving them in the soft, shadowed glow of the candles as they swayed with the gentle flicker. Tristan’s humming was still the only sound, his breath steady, his hands guiding her through the rhythm of the dance.

Victoria rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes and letting the warmth of his body, the rhythm of his movements, and the comfort of his presence wash over her. She stayed there, her breath slowing, her heartbeat syncing with his, just savoring the perfect stillness of the moment. She didn’t want to pull away, didn’t want to break the quiet intimacy between them.

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