Yasmin Sullivan - Captivated Love

They both laughed.

Over dinner they talked about his work at the Heritage Center and her work at Benson and Hines and where they overlapped. It went so well that they decided afterward to go to a place called Aunt Joe’s, which had wine and coffee as well as foods and desserts. It had music videos playing on monitors and even dancing, though the floor was small.

Over his chai tea latte and her merlot, they split a piece of carrot cake.

“I guess this answers your question about me being a strict vegetarian.”

“How so?”

“Latte and carrot cake—milk and eggs.”

“You must have a sweet tooth,” Safire speculated, thinking again of chocolate and how sweet this man would be on the palate.

“I do,” Darien said. “But I don’t do this often, and when I cook, I use substitutes.”

“So you do give in to temptation sometimes.” Safire winked at Darien and smiled, wondering if she could get her name added to the menu.

Suddenly, Safire asked Darien to dance. A slow song had come on, and she didn’t want to miss a chance for a slow dance with this man.

There were few couples on the dance floor because it was so early, but Safire didn’t mind. Darien, though, seemed a bit self-conscious, at least at first. Safire pressed her body against Darien’s and felt herself begin to throb. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed. She closed her eyes against the multicolored strobe lights that circled the room and gave in to the sensation of being in Darien’s arms. Although they were in public, it felt so erotic, so intimate, so safe.

The rugged smell of Darien’s body filled her senses when she inhaled, and the taste of bittersweet chocolate rose to the tip of her tongue. The feel of his body was delicious. Their thighs brushed gently against each other’s as they wavered to the slow, heavy beat and the guttural voice of a woman yearning for love. His hard chest pressed against her breasts, and his hands gripped her hip and back, drawing her into the curves of his form. It all sent a tingling through Safire that made her pulse rush. And she could tell from the bulge pressing against her hip that he was also getting a bit stimulated.

The slow song ended and a faster song came on. The two continued to sway slowly for a moment, long enough for Safire to know that he, too, hated to have the dance end. Then they looked at each other and went back to their table, Darien’s palm pressed to her back.

At their table, Safire placed her hand in Darien’s. He accepted it and held it in a gentle fist.

She leaned toward him and motioned for him to come. He leaned his ear toward her, but that wasn’t what she wanted. When she said nothing, he turned to look at her. That’s when she caught his lips with hers. It was a chaste kiss, but they held it for a long moment before he leaned back, breaking the connection.

As she ran her fingers along his palm, he peered at her, but it was a gaze of inquiry.

“Why do you move so fast?” Darien asked.

“Well, I know what I want. What’s wrong with that?”

“And what do you want, Safire?” He looked at her deeply.

She answered quietly, almost wistfully. “Come home with me, Darien.” When he stalled, she looked him up and down and added, “I dare you.”

Then she leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and gave a devilish smile—waiting.

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