I look down at my plate, needing a break from his intense eyes for a few seconds, having to remind myself to breathe. Sometimes, like just now, when our eyes meet, that intense, warm vibrating feeling rushes into me again, making me feel like I’ve forgotten something and then all of a sudden remembered it again in one turbulent shudder of my heart.
“You felt that just now, didn’t you? It scares you,” he states.
I shake my head, ignoring what he just said for now because that feeling does scare me, but not exactly in a bad way. “Yes, I admit I’m worried because you’re still in your early twenties, and what you want, who you want, is most likely going to change.”
“Not gonna happen. I know myself.”
“People change sometimes as they get older. It doesn’t mean it has to be negative, just different. People grow and evolve and sometimes want different things than what they thought they wanted.”
“I could say the same about you. In five years, you might change what you want in life, too.”
I smile across the table at him. “That’s true.”
“Is what you want now the same as what you wanted when you were in your twenties?” he asks.
I take one last bite of my dinner and weigh my answer carefully. “What I want is the same. Who I want to share it with has changed. Love and commitment has always been the most important things for me.”
He winks at me, picks up our plates, and carries them across the room to the sink. “Don’t even try to help,” he quips, not looking back at me. I watch him rinse the dishes and place them in the dishwasher, checking out his ass as he bends down. I tried not to, but his body just commands attention.
“I value those things, ya know,” he calls back over his shoulder.
“What things?” I ask, quickly looking away from his sexy rear.
He turns and leans back against the kitchen counter, crossing his muscled arms in front of him.
“Love and commitment,” he answers. “Bring your cute self over here.” His sultry voice drifts across the room and intoxicates me, and I bask in it for a few moments before I get up and walk across the room to him.
“Getting demanding, are you?” I say playfully, peeking up at him. He grabs me around the waist and pulls me against him.
“Would you like it if I was?” His voice takes on a whole new level of raw sexiness, making my legs go wobbly. I rest my hands on his biceps and try to answer him in my own hopefully sexy voice.
“I think I would, Mr. Valentine.”
Leaning down, he kisses me softly. “Dinner was perfect,” I tell him when we part. “And I value those things, too.”
“I know you do, Ivy.” He kisses me once more. “Come upstairs with me? I want to show you the rest of the house.”
“I’d love to,” I answer, wondering if that’s secret code for let’s go upstairs and have sex and I just unknowingly agreed to it. Taking my hand in his, he leads me up the wide wooden stairway.
“My bedroom is down the end of the hall,” he says, gesturing in that direction. “But I’m not going to bring you there, so stop looking like you want to run away. I have these two other bedrooms, which are pretty much never used unless my niece sleeps over, or sometimes my buddy Finn stays over.”
“Finn?” I repeat.
“Yeah, he’s my best friend. Hopefully, you’ll get to meet him sometime, and my niece, too. She’s the cutest thing ever.” We walk toward the loft area, which is set up like a sort of office and art room, with a large desk, easel, and ceramic cups filled with all sorts of different charcoal pencils. More of his framed drawings and paintings decorate the walls.
“Is this where you draw?” I ask, perusing everything. I’ve always been awed by artistic people, and he is one of the most talented I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting in person.
“This is where I’m supposed to draw, but I usually end up drawing in bed or on the couch. Now, I’m going to show you my favorite part of the house.” He draws the blinds back to reveal sliding glass doors.
“Oh! Is this the balcony I saw from the parking lot?”
“It is.”
The balcony is set up like a scene straight from a romance novel. A small electric fireplace is in the corner, which at first seems odd to me since we’re technically outside, but I quickly see the point of it when I see the loveseat over to the right, and the small table in front of it that’s set with lit candles and a vase of purple flowers. A string of tiny white lights runs along the balcony edge and outlines the glass doors. It’s dark outside, but the candles, lights, and fireplace give off just enough light for us to see each other.
“Wow,” I exclaim, eyeing all the little details that he’s obviously put time and thought in to. “This is beautiful . . . I can’t believe you did all this.”
“I was hoping you would like it out here.” He picks up a big thick black throw blanket that’s draped over the couch. “Sit,” he says, nodding to the couch. “We’re gonna snuggle.”
“Oh . . . okay then,” I say, startled by his plan. I didn’t see that coming at all.
“Why do you look so surprised?” He looks at me with that smile on his face that makes my insides go to jelly.
I shake my head as we sit on the loveseat and he lays the blanket over us. It’s cold out, but I don’t feel it at all with the heat from the fireplace and the blanket covering us, not to mention the warmth coming off his body being so close to mine.
“This . . .” I say, looking around. “It’s just so . . . romantic and thoughtful. You do things that most men don’t.”
“I wanted to be under the stars with you.”
He makes my heart clench. Is this real? Is he real? I want to believe he is. I need to believe he is.
“I have something for you,” he says, reaching behind the couch and coming back with a tiny box.
“What? For me?” I stammer, surprised. Is he really giving me a gift?
“Open it.”
I hold the small box in my hands, afraid to open it. I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a surprise gift.
“Why did you get me a present? You shouldn’t be buying me things.”
“Why not? I wanted to give you something, so I made something for you.”
“You gave me a drawing.” There’s no way there’s another drawing in this tiny box. This is like a jewelry box.
“And now, I’m giving you something else. Just open it.”
I open the little red box and push the tissue paper away. Inside, I find a silver necklace with a little tiny fork charm hanging off it.
“Lukas! Oh my God, I love it!” I lift it out of the box, smiling. “You made this?”
He takes it from me and gently puts it around my neck, lifting my hair and clasping the chain.
“I made the little metal fork,” he answers.
I hug him. “Thank you. I love it.” I want to never take this little tiny fork off. His sweetness just gets better and better.
He turns his body toward me, resting his back against a big pillow that’s leaning against the arm of the love seat, and finds my hand under the blanket, lacing his fingers between mine.
“Do you believe in soul mates?” His voice is low and soft, with a hint of hesitancy, like he’s afraid of what I might say.
Lukas doesn’t belong here, I realize right then. He’s a Knight. A prince. A warrior. A Viking. He’s one of those men that fight for love ’til the end of time. One who would carry a woman away on his horse and make mad passionate love to her on the grass. A man who takes what he wants and makes it his forever. A man not afraid to dream or believe in what can’t be seen, but can only be felt. His heart is lost in this time, where people no longer live to love or believe that love can transcend time.
And me, who am I, I wonder.