All of It (15 page)

“He’s what, fifteen? Cut him some slack.”

“Sixteen actually; he just had a birthday. Remember? He drives,” he adds with a wink. “We’re only ten months apart.” He shakes his head, then smiles gently. “Would you like to dance, Miss Smith?”

“I would love to.” A slow song has just started.

The dance floor is packed but we manage to squeeze our way through the crowd of swaying bodies toward the center of the floor. I wrap my arms around his neck and his coil around my waist. The warmth of his hands on my bare back is divine. His fingertips trace the line of my spine up and down in a slow repetitive motion. With heels on, I’m only an inch shorter than he is, and can almost look him squarely in the eye. He’s looking back at me. I don’t know how to explain it, but his look is powerful and reverent. I
feel
his eyes on me; it’s palpable, like a caress. And the rest of the world melts away.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look tonight?”

I smile because this is the third time he’s told me. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.” I add, “Have I told
you
how gorgeous
you
look tonight?” I know I’m returning the compliment for the third time as well.

He nods and laughs. “You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

His eyes turn intense again. He brushes the hair away from my neck and leans forward. My heart begins to race.

His voice is measured, serious and only a whisper at my ear. “Do you have any idea how
badly
I want to kiss you right now?”

My racing heart skips a beat. Not nearly as badly as I want to kiss you, I want to say, but I’m stricken speechless. I shake my head slightly instead.

He leans his head in and we stand cheek to cheek as we dance. His hair is soft under my fingers as I gently stroke the back of his head.

His face is buried in my hair, the warmth of his breath feathers across my neck increasing in frequency and depth. The tip of his nose teases softly up and down my neck and pauses to inhale deeply. “You smell so good. I love this perfume. I could devour you right here and now.” The pressure of his hands on my back increases slightly. “I am trying
very
hard to behave myself. It’s a Herculean effort at this point, Ronnie. Remind me again that I’m a gentleman.”

My body is throbbing. The words come out monotone, with no conviction behind them as I whisper, “You’re a gentleman.”

Damn it.

He presses his lips to my neck and lets them linger a few seconds before pulling back to look at me. I’m convinced that his lips are magical, and my eyes plead with him to kiss me. If they could talk, they’d be shouting it; demanding it. We dance another minute, our eyes locked. The shouting intensifies. The next song, unfortunately, is much more up-tempo. The shouting ceases. I inwardly curse the DJ as Dimitri pulls me from the dance floor.

Dimitri looks at his watch. “It’s almost midnight. I don’t want to rush you if you want to stay, but I’m willing to bet that you haven’t eaten anything since breakfast, which was technically was almost yesterday.”

He’s right. I haven’t eaten anything since seven o’clock this morning and I have to admit that my stomach is growling. “We can go whenever you’re ready.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Let’s go.”

He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket on the way to the car and quickly sends off a text.

Life is sometimes … gentlemanly. (Damn it).

“Dimitri, it’s so late. You really don’t need to take me out to dinner,” I say as he starts the car. “We can just go through a drive-through somewhere.”

He shakes his head and laughs as he looks over his shoulder to back out of the parking space. “Seriously, Ronnie, have you looked in a mirror tonight? You’re an absolute goddess! This is a special night; do you honestly think I’m going to take you through a drive-through dressed like that? Nice try.”

We drive to his neighborhood and pull up to the secured entrance. The guard, Charlie, greets Dimitri politely and opens the gate to let us through.

I’m curious. We’re going to his neighborhood—not a restaurant after all.

We enter his house through the back kitchen door. The room is dark, but it smells like heaven. Someone’s been cooking.

His hands find my shoulders. “Can I take your coat?” He slips it off and takes my hand.

“What smells so good?”

“Dinner. What else would it be, silly?” he says playfully.

He stands behind me and caresses my bare back as he guides me through the dark to the dining room, which is dimly glowing with candlelight.

Prince charming has done it again. Yet another fairy tale has come to life. A long table glows like a dream in front of me. Pink rose petals provide the backdrop for dozens of flickering tea light candles.

“It’s not drive-through, Ronnie, but do you like it?” he whispers eagerly. He’s still standing behind me and squeezes me gently around the waist resting his chin on my shoulder.

I nod, mesmerized by the candles.

He urges me forward gently. “Let’s eat before it gets cold.”

The center of the table is already set for two. He pulls out the chair and I sit slowly. He lifts the silver cloche off my plate, and I instantly make the connection between the heavenly smell in the room and the food on the table—chicken enchiladas. And not just any chicken enchiladas. I smile and look up to see he’s already sitting across from me. “Pedro?” I ask happily.

The corner of his mouth turns up in a grin. “Yes. Remember, I told you
I
can’t cook.”

“But this is fresh, and it’s still hot. How did you manage that? Did you make Sunny stay up late and drive all the way to Boulder for this?”

“No, actually. Pedro often makes house calls.” He smiles at my puzzled expression. “Pedro is an old family friend and he and Sunny are … well … kind of dating. Sunny won’t quite admit it to herself yet though. I think she feels like it’s too soon after my father’s death. Sebastian and I have both told her we just want her to be happy, but we can see the guilt in her eyes. She truly loved my father, but Pedro is a good man and exactly what she needs right now.”

His honesty surprises me. “You don’t mind her dating? It’s not weird for you?”

“Why should it be weird for me? Yes, I miss my father, but it doesn’t mean that Sunny should grieve him for the rest of her life. She married very young. They only dated six months. She was almost nineteen and my father was forty-eight. Her family was in the oil business in Houston and very wealthy. My father, who was also in the oil business, had relocated to Houston temporarily from Wyoming to partner with Sunny’s father on a deal. Sunny was working in my grandfather’s office; she’d just graduated from high school. That’s where they met. He swept her off her feet and when he left to go back to Wyoming they married and she went with him. I was born ten months later and Sebastian ten months after that. The rest is history.”

“So you were born in Wyoming? I thought you said you moved here from Texas?”

“Sebastian and I grew up in Jackson, Wyoming. It’s near Yellowstone National Park. We moved to Houston only after my father died. We were there for about eight months before we convinced Sunny to move here.” He smiles warmly remembering.

“Why did you want to move to Denver?”

He laughs quietly, as if at a personal joke, and pauses before proceeding. “We traveled a lot growing up, as I’ve mentioned before Sebastian and I have been very fortunate. Colorado was always one of our favorite places to visit. That, and I discovered there were certain people here that I needed to be near. Pedro had moved here about ten years ago from Houston and opened up his restaurant. He was the one who helped me and Sebastian convince Sunny to make the move.”

The dinner conversation has taken an unexpected turn. Dimitri is always open with me, but I usually monopolize the conversation. He always has a lot of questions for me, but tonight it seems to be my turn. “Do you ever regret moving here?”

His eyes sparkle in the candlelight as he gazes across the table at me. “Never. It led me to you.”

Wow. Just wow. I don’t know what to say.

We finish our meal in silence.

Dimitri walks around the table to take my hand and leads me through the darkness to another candlelit room—the living room. It looks like a cozy lodge at an upscale ski resort complete with crackling fire, oversized leather sofas, and a furry rug.

Dimitri shrugs off his suit jacket and loosens his tie as he sits down on one of the sofas. “Sunny really out did herself tonight. I asked for a little help with the table decorations for dinner, but I didn’t expect all of this. I think she likes you,” he says with a wink as he pulls me down to sit on his lap.

His arms tighten around me. “You’re shivering.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I’m half naked here,” I say almost resentfully. The novelty of the “sexy” dress has worn off. “Pretty” dresses are much more practical, and warmer, I’ve decided.

The mischievous grin emerges. “
That
fact has definitely not escaped my attention. It’s been testing my self-control all night. The way you look tonight is a vision even I couldn’t dream up in my wildest fantasies.” His smile softens in reaction to my blushing. He strokes my cheek with his fingertips. “Your beauty …
truly
… astounds me. I’ve never seen anything else like it.”

I feel indescribably special. My heart swells and a lump grows in my throat. “Thank you.”

“Why don’t we sit in front of the fire so that you can warm up?” He rubs my back and kisses the top of my head before saying, “I’m going to make us some hot chocolate. I’ll be right back.”

The dress is too short for me to sit comfortably on the floor, in so I decide to take my shoes off and stretch out on my stomach on the large rug. The warmth of the fire washes over me and I stop shivering. When I lie my head down, the rug is soft against my cheek. I close my eyes and absently stroke the rug with my fingers, listening to the fire crackle and pop. My mind begins to drift …

Have I fallen asleep? I feel the softest kisses low on the small of my back. The kisses progress slowly and seductively up my spine, exploring every inch of uncovered skin. The journey takes several minutes—lips never losing contact with my skin. The breath is warm and the lips velvety smooth. They stop at my neck and I exhale softly. I want them to continue. I
need
them to continue. Why can’t dreams just do what you want them to? But then, the light stroke of a tongue tracing the outline of my ear is far too arousing to be a dream. I’m indeed awake. Slowly, I open my eyes to find Dimitri hovering over me, his hands resting near each of my elbows.

I close my eyes in contentment. He whispers, “I leave for two minutes to make hot chocolate and you devise this plan to break down every last defense I have? You’re devious, Miss Smith. Do you have any idea how sexy you look lying here in front of the fire?”

I smile wide without opening my eyes.

He settles in next to me and lightly traces the line of my spine with his fingertip.

I never want this moment to end. “That feels nice,” I murmur quietly, mostly to myself.

I hear the mischievous smile in his voice. “Yes … it does.” He leans over to place a kiss tenderly near the center of my back. It lingers. He sighs as he sits up. It’s quiet for several moments.

I open my eyes to find him sitting beside me drinking deeply out of a huge mug with reindeer and a snowman on it. It makes me giggle. For the first time since I’ve known him, he actually looks sixteen or younger. So sweet and vulnerable, not at all the confident and mature Dimitri I know. I see the boy I met at the schoolhouse in my dream.

He pulls the mug away from his face to reveal whipped cream on his upper lip and nose. “What?” he says innocently.

He’s so damn cute. I roll over on my back, holding my stomach with both arms as the laughter ripples through me.

He’s still puzzled. “What?”

I catch my breath and open my eyes. He still looks so sweet and innocent, but the boyish look has vanished. In the blink of an eye he’s the breathtaking, older Dimitri again. Coming to rest on my side, propped on my elbow, I watch the fire dance in his stormy, gray eyes. “You really are stunning.”

He smiles.

“But you have a little something right here.” I gesture to my own nose.

He reaches up and brushes his fingers across his nose. “Ahh,” he says, smiling, as he licks his fingertips. “That would explain the fit of laughter.”

“There’s a little more …” I start to say, grabbing his wrist before he can reach for his face again.

I rise, resting on my knees directly in front of him, leaning in and unhurriedly—and most importantly, uncharacteristically brazenly—lick the whipped cream off his upper lip. I rock back to admire him. “There, now you look perfect.”

He closes his eyes and moans, “You’re killing me, Veronica Smith.” He shifts his body slowly until he’s crouched on his hands and knees. He creeps toward me and my body answers until I’m lying on my back and he’s hovering over me. Lacing our fingers, he guides my hands against the rug stretching them over my head. His palms are warm against my own. I see the fire, quite literally, reflected in his eyes as he closes in to kiss me.

He kisses me first on the mouth, then both eyelids, my forehead, my ear and the hollow of my neck. The kisses are restrained, but there’s an edge to them that promises much more to come. Finally I speak up, though I’m not sure how I find the words, “
You
… are killing me.” I’ve never in my life been kissed like this.

I release his hands from my grip and reach up to remove his glasses, which I carelessly drop next to the sofa. I take his face firmly between my hands. The stubble on his cheeks feels rough on my palms. I pull his face fiercely to mine and put everything I have into this kiss. His response echoes mine, and suddenly our restraint turns to desire. His body lowers to rest on mine, perfectly aligned, and I bear the full weight of him.

I welcome it.

I delight in it.

The pressure awakens every nerve ending in my body. His hands are everywhere, but eventually find their way under me. And though it’s not possible, he attempts to bring us closer together. He rolls to his back and pulls me on top of him. I’m vaguely aware of my dress hiking up—and then I hear a tear.