Текст книги "The Girl of Sand & Fog"
Автор книги: Susan Ward
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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 25 страниц)
Allie’s face snaps up. “Really? Glad to hear it. When did you start seeing someone?”
My insides go cold as all the heat in my body rises to my cheeks. Shit, what had made me say that? I’m not dating anyone.
“Just recently.”
“Maybe all the twelve-hour days you’ve been putting yourself through will stop. You work too hard. You’ve got to remember to take a little downtime or you’ll burn out quickly.”
I rush from the conference room since I’ve never been comfortable with lying, and disappear into my office. I dump my things on my desk and flip on my computer.
As I wait for the programs to load, I start listening to the messages in my phone. Without thinking, I click open the link to my Fembot blog. I start to scribble names and numbers on my desk calendar, calls that I need to return before lunch. Bank. Dad. The distributor I hope to wow with the documentary pitch. Zoe I’ll call during lunch. Best friend chatter over tofu is exactly what I need today. Maybe she can make sense of what’s up with me.
I start to rummage through the mail that Veronica left on my desk. Ding. I freeze. I stare at the computer. The chat box for my blog is obediently waiting to be opened. I click it full screen.
Love-struck Trainer: Are you free for lunch?
Oh no, what’s up with that? Is he playing with me, pursuing me, or some kind of weird stalker? Does he somehow know who I am? OK, stop being paranoid, Kaley. It’s not possible for him to know who you are. No one knows this blog is mine. I was certain that I was very careful there was nothing to link this blog to me.
I hold my fingers above the keys, searching for something safe to respond.
Response: I’m sorry. I don’t date anonymous virtual fans and I have a boyfriend.
I sit back and wait.
Love-struck Trainer: When do you find time to blog?
Response: While he sleeps.
Love-struck Trainer: He doesn’t sound very fun. Sure you don’t want to go out with me?
I start to laugh. He’s quick. I’ll give him that. And because he disappeared on me Saturday, it’s my turn to return the favor. I exit the chat and log off.
I grab my purse and head to the door. For some reason, I feel an added spring to my step.
“I’ll be back in an hour, Veronica,” I call out before I push through the double doors.
I’m almost to my car and something stops me. A feeling, a sudden intensity to the air, and an increased liveliness in my flesh. It feels like I’m being watched or maybe just looked at. I scan the parking lot. I shield my eyes with my hand, and look across the sun-drenched road.
Nothing. I take the keys from my purse and click to unlock the door. A sudden prick. I look up over the roof of my car and my heart drops to my knees.
Bobby.
OK, what do I do now? I’m staring at Bobby. He’s staring at me. I’m smiling. He’s smiling. Do I run across the road before he disappears again or do I wait to see if he comes to me?
God, he looks good. Wherever he’s been, whatever he’s been doing it’s definitely agreeing with him. Crap, I hope it’s not a deliriously happy relationship that has him looking so hot.
I decide to wait, play it cool, and just drink in the details of him. He’s still one hundred percent my Bobby: tall, roguishly relaxed; lean, nicely muscled surfer-like frame; long chestnut waves; penetrating green eyes; casual California dress with a hint of European style; and a not quite fully formed smile on delicious lips. But I see on him the subtle changes of our two years apart as well: an air of greater confidence and command; a look of purpose about him; and he definitely looks happy.
The last time I saw him he was not happy—well, not happy with me. But today there is just enough smile in those eyes to hold me completely captivated.
Crap, he’s not going to do it. He’s not going to come to me. Fine. I slam shut my door and click it locked. I move toward the street and hope I don’t look like I’m hurrying, but that’s how it feels, like my leg speed is increasing with each step.
I wait for a break in the traffic and then trot across the center of the asphalt. Then I’m standing close to him as if I’ve never been anyplace else. Suddenly, everything inside me feels in perfect order. I struggle for something light and not too betraying to say.
“Bobby Rowan. What are you doing in this part of town?”
Those wonderfully muscled shoulders do a lazy shrug. “I wanted to see this.” His molded chin does a little lift toward my building. “You did everything you set out to do, didn’t you? So how does it feel to be officially an independent filmmaker?”
Lonely, Bobby. It feels lonely.
I scrunch up my nose. “Not very glamorous, is it? But I’ve got a great creative team and we’re really starting to make things happen. So what have you been up to?”
“I started a project of my own a couple of years ago. It’s really starting to turn into something.”
“Really?”
I blush. I didn’t want to sound so surprised, but that is so unlike Bobby. When we were together he had no plan or direction. It was one of our issues. So why the change? Oh shoot, he does have a girlfriend.
“What kind of business? I’d really like to hear about it,” I say quickly.
“It’s more something you have to see to get, Kaley. But I should warn you, it’s definitely less glamorous than this.”
Bobby’s dry humor, part self-deprecating and part delightfully him. I instantly feel buoyant inside and begin to laugh.
“We always were a glamorous couple,” I tease.
The smile rises fully to his lips and takes my breath away. “No, we were a lot of things, Kaley, but not that.”
I feel my body slapped with a chill. Shit, I didn’t expect that one and it certainly wasn’t something I wanted to hear.
“Well, I’ve got to run and get some lunch. I have a meeting in a couple hours,” I announce, and instantly regret it. Why did I put an abrupt end to this encounter with such decisive words?
I stare up at Bobby, trying to read his face.
“Eating alone?” he asks.
“Sort of,” I reply cautiously. “I plan to call Zoe while I eat.”
“You still have Zoe?”
The way he says that reminds me that Zoe was Bobby’s friend before mine, that our breakup made that relationship a mess, and that I inherited Zoe more because Bobby stepped back than actually winning the preferred-friend war post couple split.
“I still have Zoe.” I wait for a response. Nothing, just a slight smile, and I hate that I still feel so badly about this. “You should call her, you know. She really misses you. It’s perfectly cool with both of us.”
“Thanks for the permission,” he says and there’s an edge to his voice. “I might just do that.” He pauses and the silence feels heavy and I feel like I’m struggling to come up for air. “Did it ever occur to you that my not contacting Zoe has nothing to do with you?”
My face heats with a burn. What was the purpose of that comment? To point out my vanity or how trivial I am to him?
“I just wanted you to know she misses you. You do what you want.”
“What I want to do is join you for lunch. Is that OK?”
The question rockets through my veins like an adrenal rush.
“We can both stand up Zoe today for a change,” he teases and I smile before I can stop it.
“I was just going down the street for some Mexican food.”
Bobby shrugs. “That sounds fine to me.”
Not trusting my voice, I nod and start to head in the direction of Hector’s.
“How are your folks?” he asks.
I stare up at him. Polite, make-do conversation. That’s something new for Bobby. He was never one for light pleasantries.
“They’re good,” I reply, making a right turn at the corner. “Mom asks about you all the time. You should stop in and see her. How are your folks?”
“The same as ever. Linda asks after you. You should take your own advice and stop in and see her.”
Again, that cutting edge out of nowhere. I nod. “I’ll do that soon.” I stop at the restaurant doors. “Is this OK with you?”
Bobby laughs. “Fine with me. I’m surprised it’s fine for you. I don’t remember you being a dive restaurant kind of girl.”
“A lot about me has changed, Bobby. There’s a lot about me you don’t know.”
Those penetrating green eyes lock on me. Crap, what had made me say that? I’m stumbling over my tongue every other sentence.
He pulls open the door. “I could say the same to you.”
“Excuse me? You’ve lost me.”
“A lot has changed about me. There’s a lot you don’t know.”
Some sort of internal alarm sounds and I freeze just inside the entrance. Oh no, is Bobby going to tell me he’s married? Is that why he wanted to have lunch today? So I would hear it first from him?
All through lunch I keep doing it. I can’t stop myself. I keep looking for a ring. He’s not wearing one. It’s not like he made it disappear and it will miserably reappear when I’m least prepared for it. And it’s not like he slipped it off when he saw me. Bobby is not that kind of guy.
I push my enchilada around the plate with my fork. “This is nice, Bobby. I’m glad we’re doing this. I hope it means you’re ready to start being friends again.”
“Friends. That would be nice, Kaley.” He wipes his lips with his napkin and eases back into his chair. He studies me. “I wasn’t sure you were fine with this. You’ve hardly said a word since we started eating.”
I shrug. “I guess I just don’t have much to say.”
“That would be a first.”
I glare, but I laugh. “Be nice.”
He doesn’t laugh. Instead, his gaze sharpens on my face. “I am being nice, Kaley. I came to you. I got tired of waiting.”
What? Did I just hear what I think I heard?
Before I can respond, he says, “How’s your afternoon looking? Do you have time to take off and come see something with me?”
My afternoon? There is something. I’m sure of that, but I suddenly can’t remember a single thing.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I want to show you where I’ve been living. What I’ve been doing. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Interesting? Why would I find it interesting?
“So do you think you can cut out for a few hours?” he asks, watching me expectantly.
I focus my gaze on the table, wondering if I should go, wondering why I debate this, and what the heck I have on my calendar that I can’t remember. God, this is weird, familiar and distant at once, and I haven’t a clue what I should do here.
I stare at his hand, so close to mine, on the table. Whoever thought it would be so uncomfortable not to touch a guy? It doesn’t feel natural this space we hold between us, spiced with the kind of talk people have who have known each other intimately. What would he do if I touched him?
His fingers cover mine and he gives me a friendly squeeze. The feel of him runs through my body with remembered sweetness.
Suddenly, nothing in my life is as important as spending the afternoon with Bobby, and for the first time in a very long time I don’t feel like a disjointed collection of uncomfortably fitting parts. I feel at ease inside myself being with Bobby.
I stop trying to access my mental calendar and smile up at Bobby. “I’ve got as much time as you need.”
Bobby chuckles and his hand slips back from me. He rises and tosses some bills on the table. “Just a few hours, Kaley. I’ll have you back before the end of the day.”
I rise from my chair and think not if I figure out fast how not to blow this.
Even sitting with an unwanted distance between us on the front bench seat of Bobby’s old truck, every part of me is connected and reacting to him. I want nothing more than to slide closer, to feel him, to taste him, but instead I sit silently smiling, drinking in the sight of him and fighting the wind from the open windows as it turns my tamed curls into—what will surely be before this drive is over—a Chia Pet.
“I can’t believe you still have Bertha,” I say, studying the aged ’60s Ford dashboard and shaking my head.
Bobby laughs. “She’s a classic, Kaley. I’m never getting rid of this truck.”
“She’s an old, gas-guzzling heap without air conditioning.”
Bobby grins in a boyishly charming way. “You’ve forgotten. We added air conditioning.”
He turns on the small orange windup fan mounted on the dash. I start to laugh and then the laughter leaves me because I remember the day we put the fan there and I am painfully aware of how much I’ve missed him.
I stare out the window. Our journey has taken us an hour out of the downtown and we’re now heading north on the 101.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“Simi Valley. We’re almost there.”
“I’ve never been to Simi Valley. What’s in Simi?”
His eyes lock on me and I start to tingle. “Me. That’s what’s in Simi. It’s where I live now. Where my business is.”
For a second I’m hurt. I didn’t know he’d moved from Pacific Palisades. There was a time I knew every piece, every secret of him. I never thought he’d leave the coast and now he’s living inland. Why the change?
“How long ago did you move?”
Bobby’s eyes shift from me. He hits the turn signal to exit the freeway. “Almost two years, Kaley.”
Why, that was right after we broke up and he moved out of the beach house. And I never knew he moved away. I study the streets, fighting back unexpected tears.
“So why Simi?”
“I wanted some land. Some space.”
The farther east we drive the less suburban everything starts to look. There are now small ranches, horses, and other livestock mixed with the planned housing tracts.
“Land? For what?” I ask.
“I’m running a small not-for-profit foundation. Still in the fledgling stage.”
His answer takes me by surprise. “You are? What kind of foundation?”
His smile is very satisfied and a touch excited. “We’re almost there. This is something you’ll understand better if I show you rather than tell you.”
I take a small measure of hope from Bobby wanting me to understand this new, unknown element of his life. More than that, it sounds important to him to share this with me. I was right to take off with him today on his adventure. It’s right that I’m here. And if I’m lucky, very soon it will be right between us.
Again I am tempted, so very tempted, to take away the space between us and kiss him.
He hits the turn signal and turns down a narrow gravel road. There’s a small sign at a locked gate: Tiki’s House. What the heck is that? Bobby said he was running a foundation.
I bite my lower lip, refraining from grilling him, and watch as he stops the truck. If the guy prefers to show me, I’ll let him show me. Memories of us come tumbling back. I should have let him lead more often. I should have been willing to follow at times.
Bobby opens his door, hops from the truck and unlocks the chain across the road. He climbs back into the truck. We start to bounce down the gravel road.
I laugh. “What kind of place are you living in, Bobby?”
“It’s private. No one to disturb here. It suits my needs.”
“What needs? And why do you want privacy? Are you growing medical marijuana? Is that your new business?” I tease.
Bobby laughs and I’m relieved that he takes my comment as humor and remembers that I’m a tad sarcastic at times. I smile.
“Nothing so glamorous. I already told you that.”
“Well, you’ll certainly have privacy here. Who’d want to brave the driveway?”
He pretends to give it serious thought. “The driveway is pretty bad. Do you think that’s why I can never convince a date to come home with me?”
A date? I definitely didn’t like hearing that one. I have to force myself to maintain the teasing banter.
I playfully scrunch up my nose. “Maybe it’s your technique?”
He shakes his head. “No, can’t be that. My technique got me the hottest girl in Pacific Palisades.”
The way he’s looking at me makes me nearly cry from the joy of hearing him say that. “And it got a busy independent filmmaker here today.”
His eyes fix on me intensely. “Maybe my technique only works with you.”
I sure hope so, my heart whispers, and I can’t wait another second to touch him. I unbuckle my seat belt. Every inch of my flesh comes awake with anticipation. I start to ease into him.
He opens his door and pulls back. “Come on, I want to show you everything.”
I watch him disappear into the sunlight and a heavy sigh of disappointment pushes through me. Then I notice my surroundings: a charming blue-paint, white-trim farm house, velvet lawns, old oak trees, long rows of tiny structures and….barking?
I climb from the truck and closed the door. “What is this place?”
Bobby smiles. “Tiki’s House. My foundation.”
My eyes widen as I try to absorb my surroundings. “But why is there so much barking? What kind of foundation is this?”
“I rescue dogs. Most of them come to me by way of illegal dog fighting.”
He gestures to the sign. Dog Rescue, Rehabilitation and Sanctuary.
“Dogs?” I don’t know what to make of this. This is not on the list of what I expected Bobby to show me. “You run a dog rescue and rehabilitation foundation?”
Amusement dances in Bobby’s gorgeous green eyes. “You’re the one who told me to be less complacent. To do something meaningful with my life. To find something I wanted to do. To live my own life instead of yours. Well, this is it, Kaley. I’m living my own life instead of yours now. Doing what I love. I’m happy.”
Crap! Was I such a bitch when we were together that I actually said that? And what is he trying to tell me with that speech?
“I’m glad. I never wanted anything but you to be happy, Bobby. It looks like we’ve both found something worthwhile to do with our lives. It’s amazing what you’ve done here.”
He lowers his frame to give a gentle scratch to the fierce-looking pit bull inside a cage. “Maybe if I’d been more interesting none of the other stuff would have happened,” he says so softly I almost can’t hear him.
Other stuff? The lump swells in my throat. How like Bobby to take responsibility for my stupid mistake.
I stare at the long row of kennels. “How many dogs do you have here?”
“Fifty. I’m at capacity. The city won’t let me have any more. Every day new dogs are rescued and there is no place for them to go.”
I shake my head. “And all these dogs were used for illegal dog fighting?”
“Except the Chihuahuas. They don’t fight. They’re used in fight training.”
“I don’t understand. How are they used?”
Bobby straightens up. His eyes are heavy with that sensitive kindness that drew me to him from the start. “They’re bait dogs. Without getting too graphic, they are used to see which pits will fight. If the pit doesn’t kill the bait dog, he’s destroyed and the bait dog is either destroyed or used again.”
I feel sick, like I’m going to vomit. “That’s awful!”
“It’s an important story, Kaley. Maybe you’d like to go on a rescue sometime and film.”
Is that why I’m here? He wants me to make a documentary about the plight of these poor animals?
“Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there, camera in hand.”
Bobby’s lips curl in a slight smile. “Thanks, Kaley. I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have tell their story. Maybe with you onboard we can make some meaningful change to the law that will prevent this.”
The law? Did I hear him right? Is Bobby not only a dog rescuer but a full-fledged activist against animal cruelty? Bobby?
It feels like my head is spinning trying to catch up to all the changes in Bobby and all the old familiar sensations coursing through my veins. Everything is new in Bobby’s world. Everything is the same inside me.
“I didn’t even know you liked dogs. I would have never imagined that this would become a cause for you. That this is what you’d pick for your profession.”
“I didn’t pick it, Kaley. It picked me.”
My eyes widen. “Picked you, huh? You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”
Bobby shrugs and he looks a little uncomfortable now. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and starts to guide me down the aisle between the kennels.
“After we broke up and I moved out, I just wanted to lie low for a while, think things through. We both made so many mistakes and you were right about a lot of the things that you said to me. I couldn’t just live off my folks and do nothing. Or worse, cruise through life as a passenger in your life. Without you, I realized you were right. I didn’t have any idea which direction I wanted to go. What I wanted to do. And then one morning I was up surfing at Rincon and someone tossed something onto the side of the road. When I went to check it out, I found a dog, Kaley. It was Tiki. Bloody. Half dead.”
“Oh my God. What kind of person would do that?”
There is fury in his eyes of an intensity I’ve never seen before. “A jerk who makes money training dogs to fight. Illegal dog fighting is big business in California.”
I stare in wonder and fascination at the neatly tended ranch with the blue painted house and white railed front porch, the lawns, the dog runs, and the long bank of indoor-outdoor kennels.
“So you rescued Tiki and it turned into all this?”
Bobby shrugs. “I didn’t plan any of this. I was just taking a poor half-dead dog to the vet. The vet didn’t expect her to survive and recommended euthanizing her. That even if she recovered she would probably always be vicious because of the kind of life she lived. It took months for her to recover. Months for her to be unafraid. And months to learn to trust me.” There is pride on his face now. “She’s up at the house. I’ll introduce you before you go.”
I drink it all in before I shift my gaze back to him. “It’s amazing, Bobby.”
He smiles. “It’s getting there. Everyone says I have a knack, that I’m a natural at rehabilitating dogs.”
“Everyone? Who’s everyone?”
“The dog rescue community is large and we network to make sure that as few dogs as possible are left with only the option of euthanasia. I specialize in pit bulls since most people won’t take them and too many people just want to exterminate the breed. But others specialize in other breeds. We share resources, knowledge. Work together to raise public awareness.”
It is hard to comprehend that this is Bobby talking so passionately about his work. When we were together his life pretty much consisted of surfing and me. This is a new side of him: this confident, take-charge, passionate man. It’s totally unfamiliar…but totally a turn-on.
We’ve walked almost to the truck and I didn’t even notice where Bobby was taking me.
“Do you have time for a glass of wine before I take you back to the city?” he asks.
I’m not going back to the city, my body screams.
I smile and nod. “I might even be convinced to stay for dinner. It’s getting late. I’m hungry.”
Bobby laughs. “There’s not much here to make for you. I still can’t cook.”
I smile up at him hopefully. “We could order in.”
The smile tugs at the corners of his lips and I want desperately to kiss him. “If you want.”
I stop, tired of the careful talk and holding my heart at bay. “I want, Bobby. I want very much to stay. To get to know each other again. To reconnect with my best friend.”
I brace myself to look into his eyes to see how that one hit him and the expression on his face takes my breath away.
“Did we ever disconnect, Kaley?” Bobby asks. This time he steps into me and takes my hand. “Stay, Kaley. Stay the night with me.”
His mouth lowers to me. I ease up on my tiptoes to him. His fingers spread wide to hold my cheeks and then Bobby is kissing me with starving purpose and remembered sweetness.
More emotion than I ever thought possible pulses through my veins and the weight of two years without him shrinks to nothingness.
Even though this is far from our first kiss—heck, I gave myself first to Bobby when we were in high school—there is a luscious freshness, a newness to it all, thrilling because it is also blending with all that I remember and have always felt for him.
Our tongues swirl in a knowing dance, and a groan of pleasure vibrates from his lips into mine as I mold my body into him, letting him lead us in this mating ritual, this gentle prelude to lovemaking, so much richer because there is no need for words. We know each other intimately and our bodies know the dance.
Being here with Bobby like this is every fantasy, every dream I’ve conjured for the past two years, and I’m not about to let anything end this. Feeling him start to ease back, this time I step in, kissing him.
To hell with the food. I want him now.
Against my lips, he whispers, “Is that a yes? You are staying the night with me?”
I’m about to whisper, “I’m staying forever,” when I am suddenly pushed back by a barking, free-running dog. It starts pushing up against me with its massive body and I’m more than a little afraid because the dog is huge and looks determined to separate us. This pit bull looks so much bigger outside a cage.
I keep a watchful eye toward the ground and press full length into Bobby. It looks very protective of its owner.
His laughter swirls in my curls. “She won’t hurt you, Kaley. Tiki is very jealous. She’s not used to having competition for my attention.”
Flushing and more than a little pleased with that, I say, “Glad to hear it. Now can you have her give me a little space?”
“I would never let anything happen to you. You’re perfectly safe so long as you stay close to me.”
Bobby’s smile is a touch seductive, a touch teasing, and a touch amused. I want to laugh and hit him, but that is not a good idea right now, especially with the way Tiki is staring at me.
“I’d be more than happy to stay close to you if you get her to stay not so close to me. Is she this jealous with all your dates?”
“I don’t know. I’ve already told you. I haven’t brought anyone to the house.”
My heart sings with happiness over that.
Bobby steps back from me. “Down, Tiki. Sit.” Bobby’s voice is commanding even in his usual wonderful, gentle tone.
The dog immediately obeys.
Bobby smiles. “It’s all right, girl. This is Kaley. She’s a friend.”
I watch him scratch Tiki’s head and am reminded of how marvelous his touch is and that we were—or at least, what I hoped before the interruption—on our way to bed and reconciliation.
My smile suddenly turns into a frown. “Just a friend?”
He grins at me. “If I tell her more she may not want to accept you into the pack.”
I laugh. “Then don’t tell her more. I want very much to be welcomed here.”
Bobby’s smile shoots straight to my heart. “Why don’t we go inside for the wine?”
He holds his hand out to me and I take it. He opens the screen door and I precede him into the comfy living room. Something brushes the back of my leg and I look down to see Tiki close to me instead of Bobby.
I look back at him just as he steps through the door and the image of him surrounded in sunshine makes my body throb with anxious want. Everything about him is gentle and good, male and perfect. I savor the sight of him and can’t believe that I chatted to a stranger that he was the perfect imperfect guy.
Bobby is the best man I’ve ever known. Beautiful inside and out. And I can’t believe that I am here, again with him, and very soon about to get to kiss and touch every speck of that glorious man.
The screen door make a little slap as it closes and I shift my eyes to see Bobby studying me.
“Keep staring at me like that, Kaley, and you won’t get the wine. Two years is a long time.”
There is nothing I can do to keep the smile from my face. I used to dream this moment and now I’m here.
“That’s not the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” I whisper.
He pulls me against him, claiming a fast, heated kiss, and then his laughter fills up the quiet house. “Then I’ll grab the wine and you get into bed.”
How wonderful it is to hear the sound of his laughter again. I want to lie in bed with him, stroll the aisles of a grocery store, learn to love these dogs, and be forever with him and his laughter.
I watch him disappear into the kitchen. I take in the lovely arrangement of the living room.
“Where did you get the money for all this?” I ask.
I hear laughter from the kitchen. “Kickstarter campaign. Donations. I board some dogs. I hold training classes and I’m thinking about releasing a book.”
“A book?”
He moves through the kitchen doorway, a bottle of chardonnay and two glasses in hand. “I’ve got an outline and four thousand words done. It’s about our foundation, our rescue operations, and the world of illegal dog fighting. When it’s finished I’d like you to be the first to read it. Everyone says the key to success is to market in multiple channels.”
He’s talking as though what we’re doing is not a one-time thing and my heart takes off racing again. Still, I feel a little worried that we haven’t covered any of our issues, not our breakup or that night or details of exactly what this is.
I watch as he sets the wine on a table and puts Tiki into her cage.
“Why are you caging her?”
“She likes it in there. It’s her safe zone and, like I said before, she isn’t used to sharing me.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend you haven’t been with anyone else since we broke up. I’m a big girl. I can take it.”
Bobby steps closer to me and starts to speak, but then his mouth is on mine before I can take in air. I am suddenly lost to everything but the feel of him and he is moving us toward the bedroom. He plunders deeply in my mouth and I find myself opening all parts of me to him.
“You have no idea how much I’ve missed that.” He kicks closed the bedroom door behind us. “We can talk as much or as little as you want later. I’ll tell you anything, everything you want to know. But I am not going to bed one more time without you.”
He is staring at me with hungry eyes and I am just as anxious to make love to him and to kick from the room anything that might interfere with us loving each other forever.
I lean in closer as he starts to unbutton my dress. It may be the wrong time, wrong moment, but I can’t stop myself and I say, “I love you. I may have made a mess of us, but I have never not loved you.”
My dress is gone and Bobby sweeps me up into his arms. “I’ve always loved you and I’m going to love you the rest of my life. That’s what I figured out in two years without you.”
“Me, too,” I whisper, kissing his neck and feeling myself being lowered onto the bed. “Make love to me. I can’t wait another moment.”
And then we are not waiting, we are naked in bed together, my flesh pressed to his flesh, my lips are being devoured by his, and the urgency of our bodies is capering in the air and making the room electric. All my parts awaken at once. How have I managed to survive two years without this?
