Connected (34 page)

Setting the coffees and scones down next to the door, I search for the room key I found in River’s wet jeans pocket before I left. Pulling it from the small purse crossed over my body, I unlock the door. As I open it I can hear chords of a guitar being played. Bending to pick up the coffees as I open the door, my mouth drops open and I almost dump the plastic lidded cups down the front of my new outfit.

There he sits in faded worn blue jeans, shirtless, his guitar on his lap. The hot Nevada sun streams through the open glass doors, highlighting the magnificently lean muscles of his perfect chest. He’s the epitome of sexiness. He glances up at me, and motions with his head for me to come sit next to him, but I stand there mesmerized by the view and the sound of the music. As I watch him play, my eyes dart to his nimble fingers picking the fret board on the neck of the guitar. His fingers flow with such ease and the sound they make is so mesmerizing. My eyes travel upward to the muscles in his forearm, flexing sexily with each move. Continuing my visual journey up his spectacular arms, I eventually land my gaze on his taut biceps, and then finally his adorably beautiful face so engrossed in the music.

His whole body seems to be moving to his own beat. His sculpted definition and full soft lips work together in one single beautiful rhythm. Obviously staring at him, I’m unashamed. I can’t help myself, but as soon as the words, “I want you to want me,” leave his lush mouth, I close my eyes and absorb his tone, his music, and join him in his own beat.

Opening my eyes when he stops singing the lyrics, I glance over at the couch. I see his Cheap Trick t-shirt lying on the back of it and smile. Now I know where he got the inspiration for the song he’s singing, or at least I think I know. As he continues to sing the chorus while strumming his guitar, my body comes alive. My cheeks blaze and my pulse quickens. Sauntering toward him, I bite my lip hard, and my heart skips a beat as I feel the need to kiss his songful lips, to touch his bare chest.

Raising his head, he scans my body. When his eyes reach my short flowing skirt, he immediately stops playing. We stare at each other, and he cocks his head to the side as he sets his guitar down. His eyes are simmering. The look on his face tells me everything he wants. He actually looks like he wants to devour me. His tongue slips slowly out of his mouth to lick his bottom lip and when he pulls it back in, ever so slowly, I nearly faint from the raw sex appeal of his simple non-verbal statement.

I’m a few steps away when he combs his fingers through his disheveled hair, leaving strands sticking up here and there.

Setting the coffees down, removing my purse, and placing the items on the coffee table, I straddle his lap. “Hey sexy.”

He kisses the very corner of my mouth as he runs his hands from my boots to the bottom of my skirt. “Hi yourself.”

Tangling my fingers through his wet hair, I tug on his bottom lip with my mouth. “I really like that song.”

My thighs tingle as his hands glide under my skirt, I know the moment he feels my new undergarments because his body stiffens, and he lets out a short gasp. “I really like your . . .skirt.”

Sucking in a deep breath through his teeth, his explores the soft skin between my garter and my exposed thigh. “Did you buy this just for me?” he murmurs against my lips as he runs his fingers up and down the straps of my garters.

Laughing against his mouth I answer, “Maybe . . .”

Caressing my tongue with his, tasting me completely, he pauses to mutter, “Then your leaving was worth it.”

Moving my hands to his chest and grinding into him a little I quip, “Glad you approve.”

Sliding his nose to my ear, he gently bites my earlobe before whispering, “I loved your note.”

I smirk at him as his lips crash to mine, and he runs his palms up my back.

As his fingers move to the knot in my hair, he pulls out my elastic tie. “I called you.”

Crushing my body against his, my hands wander down his bare skin, along the sides of his torso. “Oh, the blocked caller was you?”

Running his fingers down the slight curve of my breasts and along each of my ribs, he says, “Let me see your phone.”

Not wanting to break our closeness, I say, “It’s behind me.”

“
Can I see it?”

Twisting around, I reach for my purse and pull out my phone, fully exposing the top of one of my thighs.

“
Fuck.” I hear him mutter as I turn back and say, “Here you go, sir,” with my southern belle accent. The one I find myself using every time he demands something or does something extremely charming. Odd. Not sure why I’m doing that.

Smirking at me, he takes my phone and taps on the screen before handing it back to me. “There you go, now you’ll know who I am when I call you,” he says with a wink.

“
Do I get a picture?” I say, standing up to snap one before he answers.

Shaking his head at me with a ridiculously adorable grin on his face, he says, “My turn.” He gets up to retrieve his phone from the kitchen counter.

Holy shit! He has my lip-kissed underwear tucked in the back pocket of his jeans. Is he planning on keeping my panties as a souvenir?
And that’s not all I notice. Walking his sway of a walk to the counter, I notice his jeans are a tad loose, exposing just a hint of the gift that lies beneath them. Of course he turns to see me gawking, but I just don’t care, as I stand there open-mouthed, gaping.

He grabs his phone and walks back to the couch. “Yeeesss . . .” he exaggerates while pulling up my skirt and running his phone up my leg.

I look at him quizzically, unable to comprehend anything right now until it clicks. “You are not taking a picture of my garter to store in your contact file,” I quip, pushing his hand away and lowering my skirt.

“
What makes you think that’s what I was doing? But, thanks for the suggestion,” he chuckles while feigning innocence.

With a devilish look in his eyes, he raises an eyebrow and moves his phone to playfully finger the inside top of my hose and continues, “And besides, I thought you bought these for me?”

Nudging him in the shoulder, I retort, “Well, your mind seems to always move to the opposite end of the innocence spectrum.”

“
Hmmm . . . really? I never noticed,” he says with a wicked grin. Setting his phone down, he picks mine back up. He checks out the picture I took of him before tapping the screen a few more times.

I watch him and remember that it wasn’t too long ago when I thought happiness was only for those who believed in fairytales, that my future held nothing but sadness and a stoic existence. Yet, in this moment, as he juggles our phones, I think my future is bright, and maybe it’s my time. Maybe it’s our time to begin a new chapter in our own fairytale.

So as River sets my phone back on the coffee table, he picks his up and turns to face me. “Smile, beautiful girl,” he says, and just like that, I melt at his heartfelt words; and for the first time in a long while, I feel hopeful.

SPEECHLESS

It feels like I’ve always known you

It’s like we’ve been together forever

I think the time apart was worth it

I’m falling head over heels for you

And you leave me speechless.

With the windows open, the sun is shining and the wind is blowing through my hair. The radio is on, but it’s not even loud enough for me to hear the song that’s playing. Even now, I can’t help but notice his extreme attractiveness. He is wearing his black leather jacket and Wayfarer sunglasses, and he looks incredibly hot. I shouldn’t even be thinking about this with the conversation we just had, but I can’t help myself. My mind is a jumble of thoughts that keep leading back to the man sitting next to me, and how he makes me feel.

His hands are gripping the perforated leather bands wrapped around the steering wheel. His hair is whimsically dancing around his face, just barely reaching past his ears. His lightly stubbled jaw is tightly clenched. Everything I see, everything about his body language, is giving me the indication of his emotional state right now; he seems uncertain, unaware of how to proceed, maybe even unsure of what to say.

We have been driving for slightly more than two hours. River just exited onto the I-10W merge, and we’re that much closer to LA. Looking at him now, even driving, he oozes confidence, and this confidence is just one of the many things that has enamored me. The more than sexy man, driving this sexy car has completely turned my world around in a matter of days. I’m hoping our recent conversation hasn’t put a kink in our connection.

Up until about twenty minutes ago we were talking non-stop since leaving Las Vegas. I found myself telling him things I’ve never shared with another living soul, not even Ben. He absorbed every word I spoke and actually wanted to hear more. I told him about my parents, what their hopes were for my future, about the dreams I once had for my own future, the ones that would have made my parents smile down on me from Heaven. I told him about my life when I was younger, the one when I had parents I loved and who loved me. I even shared with him how my parents died, which I rarely ever did. Something about him just makes me want to open up. It’s one of the many feelings I’m experiencing that I don’t understand.

He talked about his family. He has a brother, eighteen months older, and a sister, fifteen months younger. His father died when he was sixteen, but his mother is very much a part of his life. She has since remarried. His mother’s sister lives in Paris and has one child. He has never met his cousin. His maternal grandparents died before he was born, and his paternal grandparents died a couple of years ago. His father was an only child. He talked openly about his grandparents’ deaths, but he never mentioned how his father died and I didn’t ask. He was elusive about it, and I felt I shouldn’t ask. I respected his right to keep some things that are difficult to talk about private.