Page 32 of Falling Into Forever
Lena says goodbye from somewhere in the background. Shit. Somehow, I missed the end of their conversation, and now embarrassment makes me look like an even bigger dork because she’s grinning and waving at me.
“Oh, crap. Sorry. Bye?”
She nods, then blows Dante a kiss before the screen goes dark.
He holds me tight against his side. Could he sense that I was about to flee? His fingertips flex against the exposed skin between my shorts and T-shirt, and it pains me to admit I never even flinched at the contact.
“We’ll figure this out, Sayl. Together this time.”
This time.
What the hell did I fall into?
CHAPTER8
DANTE
“Honey, I’m home,” I sing as I enter Saylor’s office. A sick satisfaction blooms in my chest because with that kind of greeting, she won’t be able to hold back the sass.
Stirring a reaction out of her is my new favorite pastime—I can’t get enough of it. Any response from her is better than the years of silence we’ve enforced on each other.
“You don’t want to call me honey,” she says with a wag of her finger. “Trust me, I’m no bumblebee. I’m the mean one with a painful stinger.”
I’m not even sure what that means. None of her words have made any sense since our meeting this morning when Kate announced that Saylor and I are in a fake relationship, though I have no intention of keeping it fake. The meeting lasted over an hour, and Saylor was not happy that Kate called me her muse—but even Saylor can’t deny that she’s suddenly writing again with me in the house.
It makes me fucking giddy, but honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t called Ainsley in for reinforcement yet.
Saylor stands in the corner, with her arms hanging and fists balled at her sides. The anxiety is still there, but it’s clouded with something close to fear too, and it makes my stomach clench reflexively.
She’s even more beautiful now than the day I met her. Her wild mass of hair that may never be tamed makes me itch to touch it, and she has a few more freckles covering her nose. But her dimples are the same, even if I’ve only seen a glimpse of them since I’ve been home.
Though not tall, she’s all leg, and the cutoff denim that seems to be her wardrobe of choice these days showcases the toned and tanned skin of a runner. It makes me chuckle because Saylor has never run a day in her life.
Unless—has that changed too?
My heart constricts in my chest the longer I watch her. I used to be able to get her to laugh and relax without even trying. Who does that for her now?
“Listen, Sayl. I appreciate you going along with this arrangement, even though it isn’t what you were expecting. So if there’s anything I can do to make your writing—easier, let me know.” I flash her a grin full of innuendo. The way her grumpy face heats in reaction to me is enough to make my cock weep for all the time we’ve been apart.
I love how her hooded gaze falls down my body before snapping back to my face. There’s more emotion in that one look than I’ve experienced over a lifetime without her.
And Jesus, I’m a jerk for wanting to push her on it. A thought crosses my mind, and my lips curl into a lascivious smile. Ripping my T-shirt over my head, I stalk her slowly. We have so much baggage to talk about, but I remember how her beautiful mind works. We won’t have any of those conversations until I can get her to let down her walls and show me the fears that lie beneath.
“Would it help if I walked around shirtless?” I ask, tossing my shirt to the side. “Lena was right. In the past month, I’ve read every book you’ve written. Even the one they made into that terrible movie.”
She scoffs, trying to appear offended, but she must agree they butchered the thing because she carefully skirts away from me without arguing.
“You’ve got quite a dirty imagination,” I say, unable to contain a groan. “I was shocked they cut the Jacob’s ladder from the film, though. Seems like something women would want to see.” I shimmy my hips with my palms pointed to the sky, and she quickly shields her eyes with both hands.
“No,” she blurts. When she peeks through the cracks in her fingers, I laugh so freely that I don’t even recognize the sound. “Wait. What are you saying? Are you—are you pierced? Down there?”
I laugh again, and this time I clutch my stomach. People think it’s her attitude that always got her in trouble, but truthfully, it’s her inquisitive nature. She can’t help herself.
Rubbing my chin, I walk toward her with an exaggerated swagger. When I’m close enough to touch, I lean in to her personal space, and the scent of mint and wildflowers fills my nostrils. It evokes a million memories and throws me off-balance for a second, but when I hear her teeth snap together, I pull back to study her face.
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” I say with a husky drawl. It wasn’t my intention, but in an effort to seduce my way into her trust, I’ve only succeeded in riling myself up.
“No way. Nope. The pictures I saw doing research were more than enough. If that thing is pierced, keep it the hell away from me.”
