Текст книги "Torn"
Автор книги: Kim Karr
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Chapter 27
All I Want
Ben’s Journal
A bottle of Jack later, and here I am. My life is a mess. I don’t even know how to get my life together anymore. How fucking pathetic. One minute Mom was concerned about Trent and the next she was gone. There’s no one to blame but me. I can’t help but wonder if she’d still be here today if I would have stayed buried. Was the stress of my return too much for her body to take? I can’t believe she’s gone.
And now Caleb is leaving. He took a job with the FBI, so I have no one. Plus, my sister is pissed as hell at me. And Dahl—I’ve really lost her. I even tried to call Kimberly, but she shot me down. Before she hung up she told me to call her when I wasn’t drunk and could tell her where I was. She never used to be so demanding.
My life is full of epic mistakes, one bad decision after the other. I don’t even know which one came first anymore or which one was worse—chasing notoriety and paying the consequences, coming back and thinking I could pick up where I left off, or cheating on a girl who loved me unconditionally, a girl who didn’t deserve it, and then watching her choose someone else over me.
After Mom died and I watched Dahl turn to him for support, I needed to get out . . . to forget everything. So I did. I don’t remember much except that I drank until the pain felt like it belonged to someone else and then I went home with some girl. And just like it once used to—the sex helped me forget. Even for a little while.
I was so drunk that I passed out in her bed. Fuck, I never stayed the night with a chick that was only a fast lay. Then there was no need for the awkward morning conversation. But this time I woke up to my phone ringing. Still feeling drunk, I checked my messages. Listening to them, I instantly sobered up. My sister had left six messages. I was supposed to meet her to make funeral arrangements. I had no idea what the girl’s name was, but I told her she had to drive me back to my car. I had to get there. My mom would want me to be strong. I couldn’t disappoint her again—I had enough guilt.
Just as I thought she’d be, Dahlia was there. I apologized again but I no longer believe she will forgive me. I gave her the journal and I hope one day she’ll read it and at least know I really did love her.
Chapter 28
Tears in Heaven
As the sunlight streams through the windows and the Hollywood sign is clearly visible, I move to slip on my pearls. Clasping the strands around my neck, I look at the image in the mirror and I know who I see . . . I don’t have to look twice. I see a woman in control of her own life. A woman whose life has been guided by strong role models. And she’s found true love and knows loneliness is far behind her. I stand tall and know I will make it through today and tomorrow and every day after that.
Grace was the one I wanted to be like—the one who always saw the world through rose-colored glasses, and who rarely let anything get her down. She was strong and independent, fun and loving, caring and nurturing, and I was lucky enough to have had her in my life. I owe her the comfort of knowing I will be all right—no, not just all right, I will be more than all right. I have learned to face the truth and because of it I will never have any regrets.
Today we have to say goodbye to her. Her body may be gone, but I know that her spirit will live on through me. I tuck the diary that Ben gave me in my mother’s chest. Then I put my no-regrets bracelet in my purse with the screwdriver, muster up my courage, and make my way down the hallway to find River. He’s sitting at the breakfast bar waiting for me. The very sight of him makes me smile . . . strong, resilient, soulful, loving—and all mine.
Taking a shaky breath, I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. He stands and holds his arms out to me. His lips set in a soft smile as I approach him and hug him tightly. For a minute I rest my head against his neck, breathing him in. Whispering in my ear, he tells me I’m strong and I can do this. Then he leads me to the car and we make the long drive to Laguna Beach and to the church where I will say my goodbyes to Grace.
My movements feel mechanical as we walk through the entrance. I’ve done this so many times I think I know how many steps it takes to get to the vestibule. River’s grip on my hand tightens. The church is filled with all kinds of flowers and so many people. As we make our way to the front, I can see Ben and Serena are already there, sitting in the first pew.
We sit in the row behind them. I lean forward and place my hand on Serena’s shoulder; she turns, wiping her tears with a white hankie that used to be Grace’s. Xander, Nix, Garrett, Bell, and Charlotte soon follow and sit next to River. Aerie makes her way in and sits on the other side of me. I’m overwhelmed that despite all our issues we’ve gotten through them and everyone I love is here. Caleb is the last to enter the church and he takes a seat beside Ben. He glances at us and nods hello.
“Blessed are those who mourn for they will be comforted.” Those familiar words start the service and Grace begins the first part of her journey toward her final resting place. Ben turns to look at me and although the pain he has inflicted on me is still raw, I can’t help but feel conflicted—torn between the compassion I feel for the son who lost his mother, the sympathy I feel for the teen who comforted me when my parents died, and the contempt I feel for the man who betrayed me. Despite his flaws, Ben was always there for me.
I can feel my gaze softening as I look at him and there’s a growing feeling of closure. As he turns back, I know he must feel lost without Grace, and I wish I could be the one to help him but I can’t. Ben will have to find his own way. He’s on the road he paved, the one I followed for so long, but it’s not my road any longer. My heart aches for the family we once were—Grace, Serena, Ben, Trent, and me. Grace is gone, Trent’s not here, and Ben—there’s just nothing else to say.
“Friends, as we gather here . . . ,” the service continues and I focus on the words. I’ve heard them before but the beauty of them moves me and I think about the woman I knew and loved. When the music starts we all stand. When it stops, we all sit. I know what’s coming, so I just close my eyes.
When the priest begins reciting the Final Commendation and Farewell, my eyes snap open. It’s too soon—I’m not ready. I squeeze River’s hand so tightly my knuckles turn white. He lifts my hand to his mouth and kisses it, then he places his other hand on top of mine. The music starts to play and we all stand again. Now it’s time for each of us to make our way to the front to say our own private goodbye.
My hands clench and unclench and I take a deep breath. Approaching the angelic white casket, I see her there in her navy dress, but her eyes aren’t sparkling. The normal glow of her skin is gone and replaced by white chalky powder. Her lips are pressed together and I notice right away she has lipstick on. She never wore lipstick. I want to wipe it off her. My tears fall to the satin interior, leaving their mark. I want to kiss her, to hold my hand over hers, but I can’t. I’ve never been able to touch someone lying there like that. They seem so close and you just want them to open their eyes and give you a reassuring smile, but you know they aren’t able to.
Voices murmur behind me as I open my purse and place my no-regrets bracelet on top of her folded hands so it sits right next to her diamond ring. I tuck the screwdriver inside the satin lining of the casket and then whisper, “Grace, I’m giving you this to hold forever. Please know I will always say what needs to be said and will live my life with no regrets.” I turn, but twist to look back one last time. Her ring shines so bright it catches my eye. It’s the same ring she wore on her finger for so many years even though her husband had died so long ago and I think—that’s the kind of love I have now.
Making my way back to the pew, I wait for everyone else to say his or her goodbyes. I squeeze River’s hand and look over to him. He catches my gaze and looks at me with so much love. I know with him by my side I can make it through anything. The music starts and we move to exit the pew. With one last glance, I look up to the same altar I have looked on many times before. But this time, as the stained– glass window reflects on the statue at the altar, I don’t have to wish for it to bring me peace because I am at peace.
Chapter 29
Run
River
Three weeks later
I yell over the crowd pumping my fist in the air. I can’t help but grin at her. I just knew she could do it. I’m completely mesmerized as I watch her move around. When she motions for me to join her, I put my hands out in protest—no way am I doing that. But she’s relentless and since I can never say no to her, I quickly cave and move to join her.
It’s karaoke night and the words are flashing across the screen, but it feels bigger than that. My girl is up onstage living out a small part of a childhood dream that had long been forgotten.
Rihanna’s “Umbrella” ends before I even get onstage. Thank God, because if I had to sing that song I would never have heard the end of it from the guys. Just when I think I’m in the clear, my smart-ass brother cues up Maroon 5’s song “Moves Like Jagger.” Of course he’d pick that song. Asshole.
I jump onstage and Garrett hands me a mic. I have to say, I don’t mind sharing the spotlight with her. In fact, I kind of like it. I decide I’m going to seize the moment and play it up. I’ve seen the music video, and I can move like Jagger. The music starts and I jump into it, pointing to Dahlia.
I stop mid-sway and harden on the spot when her part cues up and she curls her finger toward me, shoots me a wink, then runs her hand down the side of her body. Fuck, that was hot. Upping my game to match hers, I pull my T-shirt off. Tossing it at her, I run my hands down the front of my jeans. She likes the lead singer of Maroon 5; I know she does, so if I have to sing his song I might as well really get into the role.
When the song ends everyone starts clapping. We continue to sing the chorus without the music and the applause escalates. When I hear catcalls from the audience, I grab her and pull a Marlon Brando. I kiss her hard in front of everyone, just in case some guy gets the wrong idea. When she pulls away, she wipes her hand across her mouth and makes a disgusted face, whispering in my ear, “Adam, I have a fiancé and he won’t be very happy with you.”
I know she’s anything but disgusted, and, in fact, I’m hoping she’ll let me take her to the poolroom again, but then I notice it’s reopened. Shit.
After we bow and she tosses me my shirt, she kisses me again. When she slips her tongue in my mouth, I wonder how much she’s had to drink because the bathroom is looking really good right now. As we start to walk away, people are laughing and she stops to take another bow. The crowd likes her. No, they love her. God, do I know how that feels.
I hop offstage first and extend my arms. As she leaps into them she lands squarely in front of me—she did that on purpose. Of course I want to take her home immediately, but tonight is the first night we’ve all gone out together since I quit the band. Even Zane Perry, the new lead singer of the Wilde Ones, is here. My stepfather actually suggested him for the job. I’m not sure about the name, but since his father makes musical history with every album he puts out, I can’t imagine any better choice. I’ve met him a few times and he’s pretty cool, seems to fit right in. He wants to ask me some questions so we have to hang around for a little bit longer.
The band is up after the karaoke opener is over. I haven’t heard the band all play together and you’d think it would be strange for me to watch the Wilde Ones jam without me, but I know it won’t be. I am loving my life right now. I’m where I’m supposed to be. I’m working on cutting a few singles of my own and will slowly work toward an album. But more importantly—Dahlia and I have decided to start our own production company. We’ve named it Amazing Grace and we are going to cater to small independent bands.
Xander told me everyone is happy with the way rehearsals are going with the new lead so it looks like there will only be a slight delay before they hit the road. He also told me Zane’s been hooking up with Ellie pretty regularly. Dahlia will be happy to hear that, not that she ever had anything to worry about. I was never interested in that chick or any other chick; I haven’t even looked at another girl that way since the day I found her again.
Dahlia puts her hands into my back pockets and pulls me closer to her. Slipping my arms around her waist, I inhale her scent and whisper in her ear, “You’re killing me, you know that, right?”
I can feel her smile. When she starts nipping at the skin behind my ear, I really think I might lose it. We’ve been here almost three hours and the whole time she’s been torturing me like this. I somehow stupidly agreed to a game of Who Can Hold Out the Longest on the way over here. We were discussing the last time we partied at Smitten’s and our poolroom experience, which led to the so-called game.
Then she offered a wager: If I could go the whole night without trying to get her alone, she’d concede that she was the one who had instigated the hot pool-table sex. Then she added two more rules—I wasn’t even allowed to say “sex” or “I want you.”
“I’ll take that bet and throw in coffee runs for the whole week if I lose,” I replied.
She laughed. “I highly doubt I’ll lose.”
“Game on,” I told her.
But now my cockiness is starting to wane and I’m not sure I’m going to make it much longer. I keep thinking about the bathroom; maybe she’s drunk enough that she won’t remember the bet?
The thought of taking her someplace private is driving me insane. I pull back and grab her hand. “Come with me, beautiful girl.”
She smiles wickedly and I lead her to the back of the bar. We’re only halfway there when my sister taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, there you are.”
“Hi, Bell. What’s up?”
Dahlia rests her chin on my shoulder and wraps her arms around my waist. “Hi, Bell.”
Bell’s eyes shift to Dahlia. “Dahlia, I need some advice. Can we talk?”
“Sure. I’ll see what I can do.” Dahlia steps around me to stand next to my sister.
Bell motions her head over to one of the couches. “In private.”
I shoot her an amused look. “Is that a hint? Should I get lost?”
Dahlia tries not to laugh but giggles anyway. “Why don’t you grab us some drinks?” Bell starts over to the seating area. Dahlia rubs her nose on mine, moves to kiss me, but bites down on my lower lip instead, and then whispers in my ear, “I think I just won.”
Her beautiful eyes are boring into mine and there’s a huge grin on her face. I hate to disappoint her, but I have to disagree. “Ummm . . . that would be a giant negative. I haven’t said anything I’m not supposed to and as far as I can see, we’re still dressed,” I whisper to her.
“Okay Loverboy, you want to play it that way? I know where you were headed and so do you, but since you didn’t actually say anything I’ll let it slide. How about you grab a few rounds of shots?” she says and then turns around to follow Bell.
I have to laugh because I know she thinks if I have another drink, I won’t be able to control myself and she’ll win. Funny, since I’m not drinking tonight and she hasn’t even noticed. I have to stay on my game, plus I want to drive home and not cab it, and last and most importantly I want to make sure she has a blast. Tomorrow is the anniversary of her parents’ death so I’ve made it my mission to make tonight as bright as it can be for her.
I’m heading to the bar when I hear the band doing a sound check. Okay, so maybe it will be a little weird to hear them. When I stop to watch them onstage, I see that Garrett is already sitting behind the drums, sticks in hand. Nix is in the corner throwing the finger at someone. I missed who it was, but I can only guess it was Xander since Nix is now walking onstage with his bass guitar and not his Fender Stratocaster. I know I’m right when Zane hits the stage holding his twelve-string in the air. Fuck, Nix is going to be hating life if he plays that at every gig.
I look around the bar as the audience migrates toward the stage. When Zane slings his guitar over his shoulder and picks up the microphone, some of the girls start screaming. “Hello, everyone. Nice to meet you!” he says and the girls go crazy. He walks to the edge of the stage and grabs some of the girls’ hands. I grin because he seems to really be enjoying the attention.
“I’m not sure if all of you know this yet, but I am the lucky—or maybe it’s unlucky—son of a bitch who took the spot for the irreplaceable River Wilde.” I’m a little shocked that he mentions me.
“Hey, you okay?” I feel Dahlia’s arms go around my waist and she rests her chin on my shoulder in a familiar stance that makes me smile.
I nod to her as the crowd cheers and Zane moves back from the edge of the stage. “We’re going to start with a few covers tonight, if that’s okay with you?” he asks the audience. They yell and he smiles. He flicks his wrist behind him and Nix starts to play. I know the song immediately and understand why he chose the twelve-string. “So I picked this song because I think this is how I am going to be feeling by the time the upcoming tour is over.” Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive” blasts through the speakers as the band starts to play together. I’m actually impressed with his performance.
Everyone sings along, including my girl, and as the song ends the crowd rushes toward the stage, waving their hands in the air. He’s a hit. I look around for Xander but don’t see him. Dahlia hugs me tighter.
Zane raises his hand over his eyes and scans the audience as Garrett and Nix start playing another song I know well. His eyes land on me and he points his finger. “There he is! Hey man, this is for you! And we want you up here now.” Xander appears out of nowhere and Dahlia releases me from her embrace. I put my hands out in a no-thank-you motion, but Dahlia whispers in my ear, “One last time, baby—do it one last time for them, and for me.” Shit.
I turn to look at her and her face is so bright there is no way I can say no. She gives me a quick kiss and Xander shoves me forward.
“Enough, Loverboy.” Then winking at Dahlia he says, “Good one, Muse.”
“You knew about this?” She shrugs her shoulders and then puts her hand over her heart and blows me a kiss. God, I love her.
People clap me on the shoulder as I approach the stage. I hop up and Bell hands me my guitar, my simple acoustic—Stella, the guitar named after my dad’s favorite singer’s daughter, the guitar my dad gave me.
I give her a look and she shrugs her shoulders. “I may have swiped it this morning when I stopped by.”
I smile at her. “Thanks, Bell.”
Zane approaches me, taking his guitar off his shoulder, and hands me the mic. He goes over to stand behind the keyboard. Nix starts warming up and just like that, I’m on.
“Hey, everyone! Let’s do this one last time,” I say as I clip the microphone back on the stand and start playing the first eight bars in D. I scan the crowd, looking for my girl, and grin when I spot her. “One, two, one, two, three, four,” I say into the mic as I start to sing “Come Together.”
Zane joins in before the end of the first verse and during the refrain I watch Dahlia approach the front of the stage. My eyes move over her body and meet hers at the same time hers meet mine. Her smile is so wide that even if I screw up John Lennon’s masterpiece, being up here for her is all that matters. She runs her fingers through her hair as I sing the second verse. Every time I sing “shoop” I wish I was hugging her. She starts singing along and I can see her singing “me.”
When I start the guitar solo she closes her eyes as if absorbing every single note and I do the same. I open my eyes and she’s staring at me. I can feel her love. As I sing the next verse, she runs her tongue over her bottom lip and I have to bite mine to keep it together.
The second half of the song begins and I look over to the side of the stage at Xander. He gives me a nod and smiles, signaling that he accepts my decision to quit the band. I turn around to catch Garrett’s eye and then do the same to Nix. They both smile at me and I know we are all cool. I grab the mic off the stand and walk it over to Zane. “You’re on, man.”
I jam out the rest of the song on my guitar as the crowd cheers us on. When we finish, I sling it around my back knowing this is the last time I’ll be singing with these guys. We’ve spent our lives practicing and rehearsing together as we moved from garage to garage to this stage and I know that the bond we formed will always remain whether I am part of the band or not. They all gather around me and before I know it we are huddled together, even Xander is up here. The moment we break apart, Zane has a tray of shots in his hands. I’ll let myself have one drink. Garrett makes a toast and we all drink to get the lumps out of our throats. Bell and Ena, Xander’s new assistant, join in as well. Ena is doing well and Xander doesn’t seem quite so grumpy.
I hop off the stage and Dahlia runs over to me and wraps her arms around my neck so I can lift her off the ground and swing her in a circle. When I put her back down she crashes her lips to mine and threads her fingers through my hair. I want to run my hands down every inch of her body, but she pulls away too fast and places her hands on my cheeks. Her eyes flicker over my face as she examines me, like she’s looking for something.
“Dahlia, I’m good. Really, I am,” I assure her because I know she’s concerned I may be regretting my decision.
Once she’s satisfied that I’m fine, she leans in and whispers in my ear, “River Wilde, take me home now. I want you.”
I know I must be wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Dahlia London, I would love to take you home. I want you, too.” And I try, I really try not to gloat, but I can’t resist. I lean back in and trace the seam of her lips with my tongue before kissing her ear. “Looks like I won and you’re on coffee duty for the week.” I laugh.
Then she laughs and says, “And don’t think I didn’t notice you were drinking water all night to stay on your game.”
I just shake my head. She knows me so well.
Holding hands, we say good night to everyone. I sling my arm around Dahlia and she tucks her thumb in my back pocket. As we walk out the door together I am more than 100 percent certain that I made the right decision.
We approach my car and she says, “Mr. Lennon, my fiancé won’t like me going home with you.”
I lean over and whisper to her in my best British accent, “I bet I could kick his ass.” She laughs so hard she’s hiccupping by the time we get in the car. On the ride home we sing along to Beatles songs, neither of us faltering on the lyrics because we are both avid fans. By the time we get home I’m pretty proud of myself. I managed to stay in control and wait to have her in our bed. I actually have a surprise for her first, though.
When I send her to our room and tell her I’ll be right behind her, she looks at me like I have three heads.
“What?” I ask.
She narrows her eyes at me then heads down the hallway, throwing over her shoulder, “River, I know you’re up to something.”
I just shake my head. She knows me. I am up to something, but nothing big. Tomorrow is going to be a tough day for her so I want to shower her with my love and just be with her, letting her know she’s everything to me. We went through a rough spot. For a long time I was never sure if I would have been her first choice, and doubt shadowed me. When Ben came back that doubt no longer shadowed me—it loomed large, almost haunted me. My guilt over the things I knew—what I couldn’t tell her, what I should have told her the first time I figured it out—sent me over the edge. Every time she saw him it tore me to shreds. I wanted her to choose me but not because of what he did. When I got home that morning after I’d stormed out and read her note—I knew she’d always been mine.
The last few weeks were just as tough but for a different reason—she lost someone again and her pain rips through me. I want to make it go away, make everything right for her, but I know all I can do is be here. So I am. I’ve kept her busy, mostly delving into our new business. We’ve got the wheels in motion and I’m hoping before the end of the year to bring on our first client. Of course, my stepfather’s knowledge of the business has helped tremendously. Dahlia and I have spent a lot of time over there seeking advice and developing our strategies.
It’s amazing how well Dahlia and my mom get along, and although I know she’s not looking for someone to take Grace’s place, I think she finds comfort in their friendship and honestly so do I. She seems to need a mother figure in her life, and I get it. I’ve had Xander to help me with what was missing from my life when my father died; my mom had her sister to take care of her when their parents died, but Dahlia only had him . . . Ben. I can say his name now. I no longer view Ben as anything more than someone from Dahlia’s past and I can live with that.
Thinking about the two women who mean everything to me, I can’t help but notice how very much alike they actually are. It’s not just the tragedies they have endured, but the unconditional love they both give to those around them.
Smiling, I open the refrigerator and grab the bottle of champagne and the huge bowl of strawberries I snuck in there earlier. Then I take two glasses out of the cupboard and manage to bring it all to our room. I can hear music playing as I approach the door. It’s partially closed and when I open it my jaw drops as I step inside. She’s wearing a lacey white number slit up the front and she looks like an angel. “God, you look incredible,” I tell her, biting my lip to stop from smiling the biggest grin ever. She’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in or out of clothes and what she’s wearing now makes me want to skip everything I have planned.
She cocks her head to the side and she breaks into a grin that takes my breath away. “Come here, so I can love you.”
Grinning back at her, she doesn’t have to ask me twice. I set my stuff down on the dresser and stride over to her. Embracing her, I run my hands down her silhouette and tell her, “You’re the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.”
She looks at me. “Creature?”
I shake my head.
“That doesn’t sound beautiful,” she mumbles.
“It is,” I whisper against her lips. I can’t even explain to her what I see when I look at her. I must look at her a hundred times a day and each time I find something else, something more beautiful, than the last time I looked. It’s not just her physical beauty that captivates me. Honestly, I don’t care if she’s wearing a ball gown or sweatpants; her beauty is all of her—it’s who she is. And I want to spend the rest of my life looking at her, pulling her to me, loving her. I will spend the rest of my life doing all of those things—of that, I have no doubt.
Sliding my hands around the small piece of fabric she’s wearing, I nip at her lip. She smiles and tries to catch my mouth with hers, but with each passing minute my body throbs with anticipation. She lifts the hem of my T-shirt, pulling it over my head and I don’t waste a second before pressing my bare skin to her. I can never get enough of her. I want her in every way. I don’t even know if she realizes how much I want her—no, not want, how much I need her.
My hands skim the lace on her backside and I press her closer to me. We’re both breathing pretty heavily by the time she steps back and bats her eyelashes. “Maybe you could offer a girl a drink before trying to seduce her.”
Joining in the fun, I say, “Why, of course. Where are my manners?”
Turning toward the dresser, I glance back and take a moment to appreciate the way her eyes watch me, the smile that lights up her face when she sees I’m watching her. I have to bite down on my bottom lip hard to remind myself I have a plan. When I pull the cork, champagne fizzes everywhere. It’s like I shook the bottle or something. Shrugging, I let it drip down my bare chest. I look over at Dahlia and her hand is over her mouth like she’s trying to stifle her laughter, which makes me laugh. As I pour the first glass, she looks at me with fire in her eyes and my insides blaze. When I pour the second glass, she bites her lip in a way that turns me on even more.
My eyes are fixed on her and before I know it the champagne overflows and spills out of the top of the glass. “I told you, bartending isn’t my thing.” We both laugh and I wipe up what I can with the T-shirt from the floor. Then after I’ve dropped a strawberry in each drink, she circles her lips with her tongue and I really think I might explode. I wedge another strawberry on the rim of each glass, because I know she likes two. Her grin widens as I do so and then she says, “Adam or John, whatever your name is, it’s not for your bartending skills that I brought you back to my place.”
With both glasses in hand, I head back her way. I thought I’d be cool with role-playing, but I have to say, I’m not. The only name I want screamed from my girl’s lips is mine. Getting as close as I can without spilling our drinks, I wedge my knee in between her legs and hand her a glass. She gasps at the contact and all I know is that we have way too many layers of clothing between us. I stroke my thumb along her cheek before softly kissing her there. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”
She murmurs, “You have, but don’t ever stop. I want to hear it again and again.”
We’re standing so close that the sound of my pounding heart can only be matched by her quickening breath. She stares at me, her hazel eyes now the darkest brown, with a look that makes me crazy with desire. Taking the strawberry off the rim of my glass, she dips it in the champagne. When she offers it to me, I take a bite then watch as she does the same. Her tongue licks the berry and then her teeth bite down in a way I think I’ve felt before. She walks over to set our glasses down on the night table and when she turns around I can’t help but stare. My pulse speeds up with every step she takes toward me. She strides from her hips—it’s the sexiest walk I’ve ever seen. When she chews on her lower lip, I want to be the one chewing on it.
