Dreaming of Love (6 page)

“I knew the stained glass would be spectacular, but look down.” Emily pointed to the intricately inlaid marble floors below.

“The view doesn’t change for me. No matter how high we climb, it’s always spectacular.”

She turned and found his eyes locked on her. Her pulse soared and her stomach twisted. He wasn’t just sending mixed messages; he was the king of mixed messages. He was the master of them.

“You know what we need to do…” Dae’s eyes lit up with that wicked, playful grin of his as he draped an arm around her.

“Kiss?” She slapped her hand over her mouth. Holy Christ. When did she lose her filter?
Ever since I met someone I really wanted to kiss.

His eyes darkened, and his face grew serious as he withdrew his phone from his pocket and snapped a picture.

OhGodohGodohGod
. What was she thinking? Emily wondered if she could scale the plastic barrier and use her dress as a parachute on the way down to the floor below.

“Now, that was priceless.” Dae ran his finger down her cheek. “So, you think we should kiss, huh?”

She was sure her cheeks were beet red. She couldn’t even think of a snappy comeback.

“Shut up.” She pushed him away and focused on the gorgeous colors coming through the windows across the balcony. She imagined him laughing inside.
Kiss? You?
Mortified, she tried to make herself feel better.
I’m hot, aren’t I? Warm, at least. And smart. Definitely smart.
If she needed to chase a man, he wasn’t the right man. How many times had her mother told her that? Well, not many, but enough that it had stuck.

She felt his presence behind her before he touched her or uttered a word. Goose bumps raced up her arms and—embarrassingly—she felt her nipples harden.

“Impossible,” she mumbled.

“Totally possible,” he whispered as he took her hand and led her back to the stairwell without saying another word.

What. The. Hell?

They continued climbing the stairs in silence, save for the sound of Emily’s heart thumping against her chest.
Possible?
What did he mean by possible? Who says something like that but doesn’t kiss the object of possibility?

This time when a group of tourists passed on their way down, Dae moved to the step behind her, his hands fastened to her waist. This did all sorts of crazy things to her head. His face would be close to her butt, or maybe his head was at her hips. She hoped for hips rather than butt, but she couldn’t be sure. There was no way she was turning around on the steep stairs to find out. All she could do was pray he wasn’t thinking she had the butt of a twelve-year-old boy. She’d never been particularly curvaceous, which she’d always been a little self-conscious of. And now, with her brothers’ fiancées around more often, she was even more aware of her slender frame. She didn’t have an hourglass figure like Pierce’s fiancée, Rebecca. Heck, she wasn’t even as curvy as Daisy, who drew every man’s eyes in Trusty. And Callie and Elisabeth were, well, they were perfect all over. Emily felt plain and simple, with understated curves and a lean body that, thanks to good genetics, she barely had to work for.

A couple came barreling down the stairs, and Dae’s hand snaked around to her belly.
Yup. Hip height
. She felt his neck press against her ass as the couple raced by them, and her body reacted as if he were the key that revved her engine. She got hot and tingly all over.

She really needed to stop thinking. Just the thought of him anywhere near her butt was making her stomach quivery—and his neck pressed against her? Well, she should go straight to hell for the thoughts she was having about Mr. Impossibly Possible.

Emily needed a distraction, and began weeding through facts as they made their way up the stairs.
When it was originally built, technology hadn’t progressed enough to construct the dome. In the early fifteenth century, Brunelleschi designed and built the dome. To this day, it’s the largest brick dome ever constructed.
The last part of the climb brought them into a narrow area between the inside walls of the dome, where the frescoes were painted, and the outer walls. Emily was caught up in the complexity of the structure and the incredibly talented minds that had designed the cathedral.

Dae squeezed in beside Emily on the narrow stairs. His arm circled her shoulder, his hip brushed against hers as they ascended the staircase toward the final steps to the cupola. He stopped on the landing before the last set of steps—the famed ladder—that led outside and gazed down at her. His thick brows drew together as he brushed her hair from her shoulder. Her breathing hitched at the intimate gesture.

“I just want one second with you. Right here.”

His whisper slid over her skin and nestled deep inside her chest. How could she have only just met him? Even with the hot-and-cold messages he was sending, he still felt strangely familiar and safe, like she’d known of him forever but they simply hadn’t met face-to-face before last night. Light spilled into the dark corridor from above. Her back hit the cold, hard stone, and she pressed her hands flat against it, trying to stabilize her shaky legs.

“Hi,” he whispered.

“Hi.”
Gulp
.

“Is the cathedral everything you hoped it would be?”

This was what he wanted to ask her? Emily was vaguely aware of the people who had been behind them on the stairs. People were barely squeezing by, excited to get outside, and he was holding a conversation as if they were standing in the middle of the street. Except they were in the cathedral she’d dreamed of forever. She was out of breath from climbing the steps in her aroused state, and he was doing that thing he did—where he invaded her personal space. And, sweet mother of all things hot and delicious, she liked it. She tried not to focus on the feel of his entire lower half pressed against her as he placed his hands on her hips and flattened her against the wall to allow a rather large man to pass behind him. She tried her best to ignore the impressive steel rod against her belly. She tried,
oh, how she tried
, to ignore the strength of his masculine scent, more pungent, more alluring, after the exertion of the climb.

He touched his forehead to hers, reminding her that he’d asked her a question.
The cathedral. Right
.
Was it everything she’d hoped?

“More,” was all she could manage.

“More.” The word left his lips like a secret. One of his hands slid up to her rib cage, and his thumb brushed the side of her breast, sending a shiver through her. “How much more, Em?”

She swallowed hard again, suppressing her urge to swallow
him
whole. He pressed his lips to her forehead, then slid them lower, brushing the outer shell of her ear.

“How much more?” he whispered again.

Her legs turned to jelly, and she grabbed his waist with both hands to remain upright.
Holy cow
. What he did to her with words alone should be against the law.

“Impossibly more.” She smiled at her own cleverness and felt the muscles in his sides jump as he laughed under his breath. The hand on her rib cage tightened, and his other hand cupped her cheek as people continued to walk past them. Irritated scoffs and romantic
aww
s flitted around them as his thumb brushed over her lips, pulling the air from her lungs.

Warmth filled every crevice of her body as his lips settled on her cheek and he pressed a warm kiss to her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. His cheek grazed hers as his hand slid behind her, and he pressed their bodies even closer together and whispered again.

“I can’t have a fling with you, Emily Braden. But I desperately want to kiss you.”

“Yes.” The plea was out before she could process his words. “Kiss me.”

He lowered his lips to hers and whispered against them, “Did you hear me?”

“Yes. Kiss me. No fling. Want kiss.” The words tumbled fast and hard. She couldn’t think past knowing their lips were about to meet.

A smile played across his lips as he lowered his mouth to hers. With the first sweet press of his lips, she inhaled a shaky breath, swallowing the taste of him. Her body melted against him as he tightened his grip and deepened the kiss. It wasn’t a tentative, getting-to-know-you kiss. It was a claiming, possessive kiss that branded her as his. Sealing the intention of his heated glances and furtive touches. Never before had lips and tongues felt so perfectly matched as they collided hungrily, then slowed to explore, gliding over one another. His heartbeat matched the eager speed of hers. These feelings of her emotions being out of control was unfamiliar and scary territory, but Emily was powerless to resist the desire to be closer to him, to touch him and be touched by him. She slid her hands beneath his T-shirt and felt his powerful back muscles bunch as he pressed his body harder against her. His hand slid down her side and around to her backside, where he held on tight. The sexy new side of her purred with delight, stifling the more reserved Emily that she was quickly losing grip on.

“I love your ass,” he whispered as they drew apart.

Oh, sweet Lord, she was going to tear his clothes off right there on the concrete steps of the dome.

HOLY HELL
. DAE had no idea that one kiss could completely rock his world. But kissing Emily had left him feeling like denim that had been worn thin. It had been hours since they’d kissed, and he still got hard every time he thought about how sweet she tasted and the way her body responded to every stroke of his tongue. The feel of her sweet curves against him had sent a bolt of lust to his groin that still tugged at his mind, making it difficult for him to concentrate on much else.

They’d spent hours looking around the church, the baptistery, and the campanile, which was the most amazing bell tower he’d ever seen, and still it all paled in comparison to their one and only kiss.

Now it was late afternoon, and the sun had started its descent. Soon the day that had blown him away would be over. It would come down to just the two of them, staring into each other’s eyes in the villa where they were staying, separated by only a thin wall, and he’d have to make a decision. His body was begging him to take her to bed, but his mind waved a flag that read,
No flings
. Nothing about being with Emily felt like a fling. He knew he needed to take it slow, to allow his mind to figure out why she had such a powerful effect on him before his body clouded his thoughts. Knowing what he should do and following through had never been an issue for him. He always did the right thing. The trouble was, he wasn’t entirely sure that taking it slow with Emily
was
the right thing to do. Emily was making him do and feel things he never had before with or for any other woman. He’d never in his life felt compelled to arrange a romantic surprise for a woman he’d just met, and yet he’d done just that. He’d phoned Adelina while Emily was in the ladies’ room, and his romantic plan was set in motion.

He watched Emily eating a cup of gelato as she gazed out at the Ponte Vecchio, the “Old Bridge” that spanned the Arno River at its narrowest point. Jesus, she was beautiful. Her slender hips were pressed against the stone. Her long, silky hair cascaded over her perfect breasts, and when she opened her mouth to eat a bite of the sweet treat, her eyes slid to him and she smiled around the spoon. Jesus. Ever since they’d kissed, she’d radiated happiness. Her movements were fluid instead of coiled tight with that will-we-or-won’t-we phase where all couples began. Will we or won’t we? It was like their kiss had set her free, and he couldn’t deny that it had done the same for him. She was like a vibrant light, trailing a sparkly veil in her wake, which drew attention from every man who passed, and Dae was unable to look away.

“I think I could stay in this spot all night and be perfectly happy,” she said as she leaned over the stone wall and looked out over the river.

“We could buy you one of the shops. I’m sure the locals wouldn’t mind.” He nodded toward the far end of the bridge, where goldsmiths, jewelers, and art galleries lined the interior. “You could practice architecture from here, convince people to tear down their homes and build passive houses.”

Emily tilted her head back and laughed. She had a glorious, sweet, musical laugh, and he hoped to hear it more often now that she didn’t seem as nervous around him. Funny how a kiss had a way of easing tension. He hadn’t planned on kissing Emily in the duomo. He’d been intent on spending a reflective moment with her, hearing her thoughts on the climb up the stairs, and finally reaching the dome. But when he’d looked into her eyes, he’d nearly drowned in desire. It was as if she were a lantern in the darkness and he were a moth, drawn to her despite the danger of being burned. He hadn’t known her well enough to figure out if she was a fling type of girl, even though he wasn’t a fling type of guy. All he could do was follow his gut, and his gut told him that Emily wasn’t anything like a fling type of girl. In fact, she was nothing like any woman he’d ever known.

“As much as I would adore being on this medieval stone closed-spandrel segmental arch bridge—”

“Look at you going all
Architectural Digest
on me.”

She laughed. “Sorry. As much as I would love to be right here on this bridge, day in and day out, people around here don’t tear down their homes.” She ate the last of her gelato, and when she licked her lips, he wished it was his tongue swiping across them.

“Are you trying to wow me with your architectural prowess?”
And should I worry that when you find out I tear things down, your architectural prowess will be the death of us?

“Possibly.” She smiled up at him. “No, really. People here don’t even tear down chicken coops. They make them into houses and cottages. History and architecture are very important to the people here, and they do everything they can to preserve it. Unlike our society, where people think everything is disposable. Houses. Barns…Relationships.”

Guilt threatened to strangle him. He knew he should tell her about the villa he’d been hired to demolish, but he could tell by the passion in her words that it would slay her to hear it. Instead, he focused on the other part of what she’d said that caught him off guard.