9. Polina
Polina
I'm acutely aware of Dante’s presence as he pushes the cart through the grocery store a half a step behind me. The way he watches me. The way his body moves like a panther about to strike.
I pause in front of the cereal aisle, my eyes scanning the colorful boxes.
"See something you want?" His voice is low, close to my ear, and I shiver.
"There's...so much."
"Take your time."
I reach for a box of Lucky Charms—the kind with the little marshmallows—and turn to show him like a kid seeking approval.
He doesn't smile, but something softens in his eyes. "Put it in the cart."
I do. Then I grab another box. Fruit Loops this time.
"That too."
I bite my lip, emboldened now, and add Cocoa Puffs just because.
He just watches me, arms crossed, leaning against the cart like he has all day.
By the time we leave the cereal aisle, the cart is half-full.
"I'm being ridiculous," I say, face heating. “I’ll put some back. I don't need all of this."
He stops me. “You want it. That's reason enough."
You want it. That's reason enough. No one has ever said anything like that to me before.
We move through the store, and I can't stop myself. I add Pop-Tarts. Oreos. Chips Ahoy. Gummy bears. A jar of Nutella that makes me actually gasp when I spot it.
Dante says nothing. Just watches me with an intense, unreadable expression and keeps adding things to the cart.
By the time we reach the snack cakes aisle, I'm practically vibrating with excitement.
There. Right there on the shelf.
Twinkies.
I grab two boxes and clutch them to my chest like treasure.
When I turn around, Dante’s smile nearly takes my breath away. It makes his handsome face look even better.
"Happy?" he asks.
"Yes." The word comes out breathless. “This is...this is the best day I've ever had."
An expression I can’t quite read flickers across his face.
It really is, though. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, because the other shoe always drops.
Then his hand lifts, and his thumb brushes across my cheekbone. Just once. Feather-light.
"Good," he says quietly.
My heart stutters.
We stand in the middle of the grocery store, surrounded by junk food, staring into each other’s eyes. All I can think about is how badly I want him to kiss me. Really kiss me. On the mouth. With tongue. And, for a moment, I think he’s going to…
Until a man rounds the corner into our aisle—middle-aged, balding, wearing a polo shirt that's two sizes too small. His gaze lands on me and lingers. Then travels down my body in a way that makes my skin crawl.
Dante’s entire demeanor shifts. The heat of a moment ago evaporates. His jaw tightens, shoulders square, and he steps between the man and me, blocking his line of sight.
The look he gives the stranger is lethal.
The man pales, mumbles something, and hurries away.
I stare at Dante's back, my pulse racing for an entirely different reason now.
He just...protected me. Without a word. Without hesitation.
"You okay?" he asks without turning around.
"Yes."
He glances over his shoulder, his eyes searching mine. "If anyone makes you uncomfortable, you tell me. Understand?"
I nod, throat tight.
We continue shopping, but now I’m hyperaware that I’m not the only one being noticed. Dante receives glances from passing women. A lot of them.
A blonde in yoga pants does a double-take as she walks past, her eyes raking over him appreciatively.
A brunette near the deli counter actually waggles her brows.
Even the cashier—a girl who can't be older than nineteen—blushes and stutters when we check out.
Each time, I want to bare my teeth and growl.
I have no right to it. He's not mine. He hasn't even kissed me.
When the cashier giggles at something he says, I actually step closer, my shoulder brushing his arm possessively.
Dante notices. Of course he does.
His lips curve into a slow, wicked grin. "Jealous, baby?"
My face burns. "No," I lie.
"You are." He leans down, his mouth close to my ear. "And it's fucking cute."
I want to die. Or kiss him. Maybe both.
We load the groceries into the back of his sleek black SUV, and drive home in silence.
Well. Silence except for the roaring in my ears.
I can't stop thinking about losing my virginity to him.
About what it would feel like to have his hands on my body. His mouth on my skin. His weight pressing me into the mattress.
Would he be gentle? Rough? Both?
Would he make me beg? Scream?
The thought sends a bolt of heat straight to my core, and I squeeze my legs together, biting back a whimper.
Dante's hand flexes on the steering wheel.
Can he sense what I'm thinking?
God, I hope not.
Except...part of me wants him to pull the car over, drag me into his lap, and show me exactly what I've been missing.
We're almost home when he speaks.
"Polina."
"Yes?"
His jaw tightens. "We need to talk." His voice is careful. Controlled. "There's something I'm going to require you to do. You might not like it, but it's necessary."
And there it is. That damn other shoe.