Always (Spiral of Bliss #5) - Nina Lane Page 0,136

storage.”

“Ah, great idea.” Dean backs toward the door, his gaze on me. “Why don’t you go ahead and get started down there? I’ll be back with some hardware you might need.”

“Sounds good.”

We exchange goofy smiles before he turns and heads out the front door.

Calculating I have an hour at most, I spring into action. I toss a blue-and-white cloth over the table in the garden, turn on the miniature globe lights strung through the trees, and set the table with white china plates, wineglasses, and a votive candle. I run upstairs to change into a flowing, white cotton sundress, doing a light-speed washing up and makeup reapplication.

By the time Dean’s car comes back up the drive, I’m in the kitchen heating the pasta dish I’d made last night. I dim the lights, set a bottle of wine on the central island, fluff out my hair, and lean my hips on the counter in what I hope is a casually sexy pose.

Dean comes into the kitchen and stops, his eyes warming with appreciation as he looks at me, sliding his gaze over my body as if he’s already touching me. My skin tingles.

I expect him to cross the room and haul me into his arms—just the thought leaves me breathless—but instead he continues watching me in that way of his, a look of both tender warmth and awe, as if even after all these years he still can’t believe the girl from Jitter Beans is his wife.

I know, because I often look at him the same way.

“Give me a kiss, beauty,” he says.

With a smile, I close the distance between us. Our lips meet in a kiss as warm and good as hot cocoa on a snowy night, ear massages, the scent of cinnamon, honey melting over fresh-baked bread.

When we slowly part, he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear.

“There’s a medieval doctrine of philosophy called illuminationism,” he tells me.

I lift an eyebrow. “Is there?”

“The philosophy states that humans need divine grace to aid their thoughts,” he continues. “Saint Augustine was an early proponent of the idea. He said a man couldn’t have full knowledge of the truth without heavenly intervention. The philosophy is also related to the idea of a divine light that banishes darkness and illuminates everything good and true.”

I reach up to smooth his disheveled hair away from his forehead, gazing into his chocolate-brown eyes that will forever hold the key to unlocking my soul.

“And do you possess this divine illumination?” I ask.

“Of course.” He lowers his head to brush his lips across mine. “Her name is Liv West.”

My heart goes into a slow, curving free-fall, like a feather knowing it will come to rest right in the palm of this man’s hand.

“You are my eternal grace.” He brushes his lips across mine. “My divine light, the illumination of everything good and true.”

He slides his hand up my midriff to my breast. “And you are without question my most heavenly body.”

“Well,” I murmur, spreading my hand over his chest, “you’re definitely getting lucky tonight, professor.”

“I’m already lucky. Luckier than I could ever have imagined.”

I smile, curling my fingers into his T-shirt as our lips meet in another kiss. He moves his hands to the sides of my neck, tilting my head to just the right angle before delving his fingers into my hair. I sink against him, my body curving along his with the ease of a flower stem bending to the wind.

The world slips away, distilling into the familiar touch of our lips together, the irrepressible desire that floods between us. Only when the timer on the stove dings do I pull away from him, pressing a series of kisses over his jaw.

Twilight shines through the windows, dusky and golden, and birdsong rustles on the breeze. I dish up plates of pasta, Dean pours the wine, and we sit at the garden table to eat under the glowing lights.

In the woods beyond, The Castle Two sits nestled in the trees, still beloved after all these years and kept in good condition for—maybe one day—our future grandchildren.

Because both Bella and Nicholas have keys to the house and could change plans any second and come home, Dean and I go upstairs to the bedroom after dinner.

He locks the door behind us, and we step into each other’s arms, a move as natural as a heartbeat. I still experience a sense of relief when my husband’s arms close around me, as if we’re locking together, as if the