Page 73 of Finally Found You

“You and me,” I echo, trying to stomp the overwhelming feeling that I will fail. “I’ve never been to a restaurant this fancy,” I confess.

His eyes widen in surprise. “Never?”

I shake my head, a sheepish smile playing on my lips. “The guys I’ve dated usually took me to burger joints or bars. This is… new. And honestly, what if I mess up?”

His thumb traces soothing circles on the back of my hand, his gaze never leaving mine. “How could you possibly mess up when all I want is to spend time with you?” he offers. His words are sincere and soothing. I meet his gaze, drowning in the depth of emotions swirling within his eyes—love, hope, and a raw vulnerability.

“So, if we’re not talking about family”—I lean in slightly—“what should we discuss?”

“Or work,” he appends with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s talk about you, your dreams. I know you’re good at what you do, but what’s your dream job? What about traveling? Does that excite you?”

Caught off guard, I pause to consider his question. A dream job? It’s a concept that has barely grazed my thoughts, considering how content I’ve been working at the vineyard. So I tell him, even when he established work was off the table. I like it when he talks about grapes. That place is his passion, and I love it when he talks about it.

The night unfurls around us. It weaves a rich tapestry of secrets, shared laughter, intimate glances, and lingering touches. Each shared moment is a step forward, a brick in the foundation of “us.”

Immersed in the soft candlelight, the gentle clink of cutlery, and the intoxicating presence of Lysander, I come to a poignant realization. This isn’t just another date. It’s a promise—a promise of a future where we love each other and create our own family. It’s the first step in what could be our life together.

Chapter Forty-One

Camilla

After dinner, we don’t go to my apartment. He takes me to the suite of the Merkel Hotel where he’s staying this weekend. A current of anticipation tingles along my skin, an electric hum that grows with every shared glance, every touch. The elevator journey is a slow ascent, a tantalizing prelude.

I kiss him then, a collision of lips and unspoken desires.

It’s a kiss unlike any I’ve experienced.

It’s a kiss that sears our deepest needs.

It’s a kiss that etches our names into our souls.

It’s a kiss that transcends the realm of emotions—and joins us forever.

“Camilla,” he breathes out my name like a prayer as the elevator dings our arrival. His voice, thick with need, brings a rush of warmth to my cheeks. “Not here. Let’s continue this in my room.”

His gaze traps mine, a whirlpool of promise and longing. My heart hammers in my chest as I follow him into the suite, a world away from the outside. The second the door shuts behind us, his lips claim mine again. His touch is a revelation, a sanctified exploration along the contours of my body. Each caress stirs dormant parts of me, his kisses resurrecting me from the numbness, breathing life into every nerve ending.

A shiver of delight courses through me, drawing a plea from my lips. “Please”—I gasp against his mouth in the stillness of the suite—“don’t stop.”

“Even if I wanted to”—Lysander’s voice breaks, punctuated by gasps for air, the raw need in his eyes mirrored by my own—“I couldn’t… You own me, Camilla.”

With a swift, fluid motion, he sweeps me off my feet, the solid strength of his arms around me making me feel cherished, safe. The journey to the bedroom is a blur of passionate kisses and breathy whispers, every touch, every word carving a deeper imprint of him within me.

“I need you, Ly,” I whisper, pleading with him, my breath hitching in my throat. The sensation of his touch, the low timbre, and the tenderness in his gaze spark a tingling sensation at the nape of my neck, goose bumps prickling my arms.

Once inside the room, the world ceases to exist. There’s only us, cloaked in a cocoon of intimacy. His hands work with purpose, unzipping the back of my dress, the sound echoing in the quiet room. His touch is warm against the coolness of my skin as he peels the fabric away, each inch revealed making him draw in a sharp breath.

His shirt is the next to go, discarded haphazardly on the floor. Beneath it, his muscular torso is a stunning canvas of chiseled perfection. His skin, taut over the sculpted planes of his chest and abs, carries a golden hue, a testament to hours spent under the sun. Inked artistry graces his arms and chest.

The ripple of his well-defined muscles is evident, even in the soft lighting of the room, each one a testament to his physical strength. His broad shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, and below that, the strong lines of his hips.

Yet it’s not just his impressive body that takes my breath away, but the raw vulnerability he displays. The unspoken trust shimmering in his gaze as he stands before me, unguarded, inked, and beautifully real. Next, his fingers fumble momentarily with his belt.

“You’re beautiful,” I whisper.

“Camilla,” he breathes, the word barely more than a whisper, yet it resonates in the silence. Our eyes meet, and in his gaze, I see mirrored the same hunger, the same anticipation, and a promise of the intimacy to come.

He places me in the center of the bed and squeezes my ass before pushing my panties down. “You’re perfect,” he says, kissing my skin as he lowers himself down my body.

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