Free Broken Hart (The Hart Family) by Ella Fox Page A

I’m wearing my favorite light blue halter maxi dress with a pair of Ralph Lauren firama espadrilles in white.  With a spritz of J’adore, I’m good to go.
     
    We decide to go to Michael’s in Santa Monica so that after we eat I can explore the shops of Third Street Promenade.  Dante says he’ll be happy to tag along during the shopping portion of the day and we head off.
     
    By the time we get to Michael’s I am positively ravenous.  We are both so hungry we each order starters and main courses.
     
    There is a brief moment where I wonder if this will be awkward, the two of us sitting at this table trying to figure out what to say to each other.  Certainly that would be understandable- it’s overwhelming that sixteen hours ago we were just friends, and now we’ve had mind blowing sex three times. 
     
    Amazingly, it’s not awkward at all.  We chat and laugh about a variety of subjects.  We’re definitely still enjoying each other’s company, just like we always do.  Only now, there is something deeper, which gives me a warm feeling inside.  We share the starters, which are phenomenal, and we each enjoy a glass of the Chardonnay.
     
    As we finish our starters and are waiting for our main courses, it seems the most natural thing in the world when Dante reaches across the table and takes my hand. 
     
    We spend the next few minutes like that, our fingers intertwined on the table, his thumb running across my knuckles in an absent motion while we talk.
     
    The main courses come and we both dig in.  It’s safe to say that we had both worked up quite an appetite.  I eat every bite of my Michael’s burger and Dante does the same with his prime hangar steak. 
     
    After Dante pays the bill, we head out and start walking.  He reaches out and grabs my hand and we wander comfortably to Banana Republic. 
     
    I know exactly what I want, so I don’t meander through the store.  I grab three pairs of the pleated shorts in several different colors and then grab three timeless tanks in coordinating colors and I’m done.
     
    Dante stares at me in disbelief as we make our way to the register.  I’m confused as to why.  “What’s the look for?”
     
    He smiles down at me, and chuckles in amusement.  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised because this is how you do everything else, but I love that you didn’t wander through the store and look at every single thing and hem and haw about what you wanted.”
     
    I laugh in agreement.  “It’s true.  I’m a lot more decisive than that.  I know what I want and I don’t relish wasting time.  I’ve always been like this.”
     
    We leave Banana Republic and Dante asks where I want to go next.  I decide I’m not really in the mood to shop.  I’ve got more than enough clothes and I just feel like having fun.
    We decide to head down to the Santa Monica pier and go on some rides.  We spend the next few hours going on the pacific wheel, the air lifter, and the scrambler.  We play games and giggle, completely relaxed and enjoying the day.  It’s a blast. 
     
    At three-thirty we leave the pier and head to Dante’s car for the ride to his house.  Today he’s driving his brand new convertible black Camaro.  I love this car.  The top is down and the sun is shining, and the drive is fun.
     
    He drives with his right hand on my knee, and I feel the tingling sensation of his hand on my body.  It really is like a physical charge.
     
    Suddenly, I have an idea. At the next red light I lift his hand from my leg and pull it to my lips and kiss each of his fingertips and then the center of palm.  Licking my way back up, I pull his index finger in to my mouth and suck.
     
    He’s staring at my mouth while I do this, so he completely misses me pulling the hem of my dress up.  When the light changes, I pull his finger from my mouth and place his hand at the juncture of my thighs. 
     
    His intake of breath is swift and immediate.  “Oh fuck Rina.