His Eternal Flame

by Layla Valentine

  “Good evening, do you have a reservation?” the breathy girl with incredibly big eyes asked.

  “Yes, two for Drake,” Dante said with that smooth authority.

  I suppressed a delicious shiver and passed the girl my coat in exchange for a ticket. We were shown to a booth in the farthest, darkest corner of the restaurant, and I thanked the dating gods for the privacy, but it disappeared quickly.

  One server brought sparkling water. Immediately after, another brought out wine samples. We tasted, talked, and chose a bottle. Before the wine server even made it back out, we were asked for our order. I was getting overwhelmed, and Dante sensed it. He squeezed my hand under the table and addressed the waiter.

  “Give us ten minutes,” he told the server with a smile.

  The waiter bowed slightly and moved away to a different table.

  “Thanks,” I said, looking over my menu. “I thought they were going to help us to shreds.”

  Dante chuckled, and I nearly lost my temper at the wine server who showed up again just as I was beginning to relax. Off he went again. We still had a few minutes before the waiter was due back, and I was determined to bury my nose in my menu until I knew exactly what I wanted and was confident that I could pronounce it.

  I settled on something that hit all of the major comfort food groups without being too heavy, repeated my order half a dozen times in my head, then set the menu down with a sigh. I met Dante’s eye unexpectedly; he was watching me with a bemused twist of his lips.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  “I’m pretty good with crowds and strangers most of the time,” I explained. “But when I’m hungry or hurting, it’s like I have no buffer anymore. Like all of my defenses have been stripped and everybody’s eyes cut right through to brush my raw nerve endings.”

  “Well, then remind me not to let you get hungry,” he said affectionately, stroking a single finger over the back of my hand.

  It was the perfect amount of touch in that moment, and I nearly blurted out how much I liked him.

  Get some food in you, now, I told myself firmly. You always say stuff you regret when your blood sugar’s low.

  I had been trying to avoid the basket of mini croissants in the middle of the table, but desperate times call for appetite killers. I ate it as slowly as I could; then, the waiter returned to take our order.

  “There,” I sighed as he walked away. “Are they going to leave us alone after they bring our food?”

  “They’d better,” Dante said, his brow crinkling in concern. “Otherwise, I’ll never get around to telling you what I brought here to ask you.”

  My eyes widened and my heart jolted with anxiety. “You said no ulterior motives—just a date,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah, I know,” Dante said with a warm smile. “Dating is what I want to talk to you about. Among other things, but that’s sort of…primary.”

  “Oh,” I breathed.

  Dinner arrived, then, interrupting us before Dante could elaborate. I wasn’t too upset about it; I could almost guarantee that I would listen better on a full stomach.

  Chapter 22

  “If you don’t tell me what you brought here to tell me, I might be forced to interrogate you,” I teased after sampling a decent amount of my dinner.

  Dante cracked a slightly nervous smile, then sipped his wine. He seemed to be fighting with himself. I raised an inquisitive brow at him and waited, chewing slowly as I watched the expressions shift over his face.

  “I, um…well. First, I want to thank you,” he said, clasping my hand.

  “You’re welcome. For what?”

  “For pushing me to accept what I knew was coming, but didn’t want to admit,” he said vaguely, pushing food around his plate with his fork.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ah…well, I knew it was inevitable. Growing up, I mean. I sort of thought if I ignored it, I could go on being a kid forever. Playing games for money, bonuses for picture day.”

  He sounded bitter all of a sudden; the energy coming off of his body was almost spiky in its intensity.

  “I…I’m sorry,” I mumbled, not entirely sure if his gratitude had been sarcastic.

  “No, no, don’t be. I mean that. It’s better to accept it than to try and hang onto something I should have outgrown already.”

  He sighed and pressed his hands together.

  “Screwing around in locker rooms, tormenting newcomers…I should have put that stuff away a long time ago. I’ve decided to take Joel on as a personal project. The team’s going to need a good strong leader.”

  “Don’t they already have one?” I asked, brushing my hand over his.

  He smiled sadly at me, then let his face fall. “Only through the end of next season. I’m retiring.”

  My heart nearly stopped. I had seen just what the game meant to Dante during our brief acquaintance, and I could feel his heart break as he said the words. I moved toward him once more, pressing my thigh against his, and took his hand.

  “Are you sure?”

  “I am,” he said, squeezing my hand. “It’s time for me to start thinking about moving on.”

  “Start thinking about,” I repeated with a laugh. “Couldn’t think of any more ways to distance yourself from the idea?”

  He twisted his lips into a wry smile. “It’s an intimidating idea,” he admitted. “I mean, the retirement package is really good, and I’m not going to have to worry about money. I saved most of what I made, although I had a couple of binge years. Everybody does at first. Joel will outgrow his before it ruins him, I think. Anyway, the money isn’t really the point. What the hell am I going to do with my time?”

  He sounded lost, and it just about broke my heart.

  I leaned in close, letting my lips tickle his ear as I murmured, “You can do me.”

  He chuckled quietly and slipped his arm around my waist, tugging me even closer.

  “That’s certainly something,” he said, kissing my mouth. He pulled back, his eyes soft as they gazed into mine. “Every day? For…a while?”

  “How long is a while?” I asked, my heart pounding.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “Long enough to find out if we can stand each other with our clothes on?”

  I made a show of weighing the options, then kissed his cheek.

  “That sounds like a plan to me,” I told him. “You’ll get sick of me pretty quick.”

  “I doubt that,” he said, his face reflecting his words. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get sick of you.”

  “You haven’t seen me get so frustrated with an article that I start biting my toenails,” I pointed out.

  He paused for a second, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head and laughed.

  “I’m stuck on the idea that you’re flexible enough to do that,” he said, eyeing me suggestively. “The rest hasn’t even computed yet.”

  I laughed at him and drank some wine. I remembered the older couple at the dance hall, teasing each other well into their twilight years.

  I wouldn’t mind teasing Dante for a while, I thought.

  “Do you do anything like that?” I asked him.

  “What, bite my toenails? I haven’t been that flexible since before puberty,” he laughed. “I don’t know. I guess I get really difficult to live with right before a game. All of my brain power is focused on the win, the strategy, everything I know about the other team. That could probably get pretty irritating.”

  His smile faded, then, and I winced internally.

  “Guess that won’t be a problem for too much longer, though.”

  “You need to focus on the positive,” I said adamantly. “What do you like to do, or what would you be interested in learning that you don’t have time for right now?”

  He took a bite and chewed slowly, the cogs in his head turning.

  “I wouldn’t mind getting certified as a dance teacher,” he said finally.

  “You’d be great at that!” I told him.
“You’re an amazing dancer and you’ve already got teaching experience from the team; go for it. I’d be happy to be your first student,” I said with a wink.

  He laughed and nodded. “I certainly wouldn’t mind that,” he said, glancing sideways at me. “Maybe we should go back to the Revival after dinner?”

  “My feet and I are barely on speaking terms as it is,” I said with a chuckle. “So, about what you were going to ask me…?”

  “Ah, yes.” He looked sheepish; was he blushing? “So, I brought you here tonight to ask you to be with me…exclusively. I think you’re a brilliant woman, Livia, and while I don’t have a whole lot of long-term relationships under my belt, I want to try to make one work with you. I don’t know what the future will bring, but I’d like to face it with you by my side.”

  He continued before my jaw could hit the floor, turning to meet my eyes with an apologetic little smile.

  “I’m sorry I’ve been so preoccupied lately,” he said. “I feel like I’m walking into the dark without a flashlight in a place I’ve never been before. It’s always been hockey for me. I always figured I would have time to think about my plans the next year. Now, there’s only one more ‘next year’, and I never got around to thinking about it.”

  “Then do everything,” I suggested. “Travel the world, doing everything you ever wanted to do. You’ll be free to do literally anything you could imagine. And I’d like to do it with you.”

  “Really?” he asked, and I nodded.

  “Really.”

  * * *

  The remainder of the date faded into a happy blur. We split a chocolate mousse for dessert, which was just rich enough to make me swear off desserts for life. Or at least a week. Everything had been wonderful—once the staff finally left us alone—and I mentally added the restaurant to my list of favorites.

  I could see myself bringing future interviewees here, buttering them up with the atmosphere, food, and wine, and getting to the bottom of a real story. With a sudden lurch in my gut, I realized that the deadline for my story was mere days away, and I still didn’t have anything I could use.

  I should really skip the post-dessert, I told myself.

  But when Dante asked me if I wanted to come back to his place, I said yes. I would write in the morning, I decided. Tonight, it was time to live.

  Chapter 23

  “There was one dance I didn’t get a chance to show you,” he said smoothly as he closed his apartment door behind me.

  “I’m a little more interested in the horizontal dances we could do in there,” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his waist.

  “Let me seduce you,” Dante said quietly, his smoldering gaze hypnotizing me.

  “Oh,” I breathed.

  He towered over me after I kicked out of my shoes, making me feel smaller and more delicate than I had in…well, ever. He led me to the living room, all brown and cream and black, and put on some music. Notes trickled slowly from the speakers. A saxophone made passionate love to an acoustic guitar as a broken-hearted piano cried. Dante pulled me into his embrace, gently pushing my head against his powerful chest, and wrapped me in his arms.

  It wasn’t a dance so much as a rhythmic embrace, and it was my favorite of everything he had showed me that night. His warmth bled through my clothes, resonating with my core. It was so much more intimate than anything else we had done that it took my breath away.

  All of those fantasies I had pushed away about a future with him returned tenfold, filling my mind and heart with wishes for endless romance.

  He dipped me and kissed my throat. I closed my eyes and held his face with a little moan, awash in the bliss of every sensation. He lifted me slowly, trailing kisses up to my ear, then across to my mouth.

  I returned his kiss, offering my lips for biting, my tongue for sucking. The rhythm moved from our feet to our hips, building the heat between us, awakening the lust which had been subdued after the Revival.

  Dante led me to the couch, pulling me down on top of him as he sat. His arms circled my waist, resting comfortably on my rear. It was cozy and erotic all at once. I felt loved in that moment, and it made me misty-eyed. I swallowed against the lump in my throat and pulled away, blinking the moisture from my eyes.

  “What’s wrong, Liv?” he asked, stroking my cheek with one warm finger.

  “Nothing,” I said, my voice cracking. “Everything is wonderful.”

  He smiled gently and pulled me down into a kiss again. His hands roamed over my body, tangled in my hair, loved every inch of me. The quivering deep in my core became a hot, empty ache; I needed him—not just now, but forever.

  His hands slid down to my ankles and crept back up, slipping under my skirt to linger on my hips. I wriggled against his hardness, breathless with desire. He groaned into my mouth, exciting my senses with his passion.

  He took his time dragging my dress up over my head. Once it was gone, he paused, drinking me in with his eyes.

  “You’re so gorgeous,” he murmured, tracing my collarbone with one finger. “Inside and out.”

  “I don’t know about the inside,” I confessed, my face flushing red. “Just don’t look too closely.”

  He turned his eyes up to meet mine, and I felt utterly exposed. I was certain that he could see right through me, to every ugly, vengeful thing I had ever done; every weak and humiliating thought I had ever had.

  Maybe he could, but he didn’t seem to mind; he brought my hand up to his mouth, kissing my knuckles without ever breaking eye contact. It sent shivers through my body, hot and cold in turn.

  “I want to see everything,” he said, the words rolling out from some deep, primal place. “I want to know you, Livia.”

  I swallowed hard. I had spent so much time hiding from people, from the world, from myself; the way he looked at me frightened me. Somehow, though, I didn’t mind it.

  I kissed him and my hands rippled over the buttons of his shirt, exposing his glistening, muscular chest. I pushed the shirt away, dragging my nails over his skin, making him shiver beneath my touch.

  He held me close and kissed my skin, my collarbone, my breasts. Honeyed heat spread between us, between my thighs, between his hips, arching through the minuscule space between us. His firm, gentle hands encouraged my hips to roll across him until I was dancing along his length, building up passionate friction, driving me mad with desire. I couldn’t wait any longer.

  With trembling hands, I freed him from the belt around his waist, tugging at his waistband with the frantic need to have him inside of me. He lifted his hips and me with them, until I was hovering above the couch, riding on his muscles as he slid out of his clothes.

  When he settled back down on the couch, he was ready. He ripped my panties off with a flick of his wrist, too impatient to wait any longer.

  “Oh,” I gasped as he pushed his hard tip against my slit.

  I teased him, rocking my hips and sliding up from head to hilt without ever letting him inside. He groaned and writhed, but on top and in charge, I took my time with him.

  I traced every velvety contour of his shaft, the sensations electrifying my body. In his frustration, he grabbed me in a savage embrace, pulling my breast down to his face, stimulating me with a force I had never seen from him before.

  Pinching, rolling, gripping almost hard enough to bruise me; nibbling, biting, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. The whisper of pain made me cry out with pleasure as it shot down my core to my center, making me pulse and quiver with the strength of it.

  His mouth still filled with my breast, he released a primal growl and slapped his hands on my hips, lifting me up to put me down on his thick, hot manhood.

  My reaction was instantaneous. He pressed a thumb to my clit as he filled me, as he squeezed my breasts, focusing every sensation on that hard little point. Wave after wave of pleasure cascaded over me, building up the pool of hot pressure beneath his thumb, swirling through my mind until not a single thought remained.

  I moved over h
im and around him with desperately bucking hips, riding toward the point of ecstasy. He bit my lip just a touch too hard, and with a cry of pleasure mixed with pain I careened over the edge in a blinding explosion.

  “Yeah, baby,” he growled. “Come for me again.”

  I obeyed because there was nothing else I could do. With Dante’s thumb pressed into me and his pulsing cock filling me, with his mouth and hand on my breasts, with his smell and body and those eyes, I was ready to go again before the last little pulses had even subsided.

  As I quaked and trembled with the force of my release, he stood, lifting me up with him to press me against the wall. I wrapped my legs tight around his waist, drawing him into me as he sandwiched me against the cool paint.

  I watched his eyes darken and close in bliss as he moved inside of me. I tasted the sweat of his skin, heavy with masculinity, spiced with lust. His breath quickened, his heart raced against my breast, and with a primal groan, he emptied into me. I held him, his head buried in the curve of my neck, as the last quakes of his ecstasy rippled away. Tender kisses and soft, murmured words carried us back to the couch.

  Music washed over us as he wrapped us in a blanket and turned the lights down low with the remote on the coffee table. I didn’t want to go to sleep—what dream could be better than this? But his warm embrace and steady breathing lulled me, and soon, the room faded as my consciousness fell away.

  Chapter 24

  I crept through the carpeted hallways of my apartment building the next morning, still dressed in the clothes I had worn the night before. Luis’s door was open—he must have posted bail or something—but when I walked by, it slammed shut.

  It sounded like an attempt at a deliberate shun, which would have made me laugh if I hadn’t been so tired. It fascinated me that the little troll still thought that I had any interest at all. Unwilling to waste any more brain energy on him, I shook it off and walked into my apartment.