Connected (55 page)

Inhaling deeply, I transfer all of them into one hand and hold up the one that reads, ‘I Love You’. I stare at her with amazement and wonder. “I love you,” I whisper while trying to rein in my emotions. I lean over and kiss her, slipping my tongue in her mouth because I want to taste her so badly. I squeeze my palm shut so I won’t drop any of the picks and grab her with my free hand. I run my hand through her soft hair and over the smooth bare skin of neck and shoulders.

She giggles her cute laugh and pulls away, breathing just as hard as I am. “I love you more.”

Shaking my head in disagreement, I decide not to engage in our little who loves who more game because I know I’ll win. I love this girl more than anybody has ever loved anyone. Instead, I just look at her as she moves her hand to my tightly closed palm.

She begins to pull my fingers open, one at a time, exposing the scribed picks. She takes all the picks out of my hand, leaving the ‘I Love You’ one in my palm. Selecting one guitar tab at a time, she says each engraving to me as if she’s whispering sweet nothings.

“
Hold Me,” she whispers, running her fingertips over the words before gently placing it in my hand with the ‘I Love You’ pick. Then she whispers, “Touch Me,” while placing it in my hand with the other two. She continues to whisper “Kiss Me,” and “Love Me,” as she does the same thing. Finally, she giggles through her words as she says, “And this is my favorite, ‘Loverboy’.”

Once all six gifts are safely in my hand she opens the bag for me to pour them back in. Before I do, I take the ‘Touch Me’ one. I shake the other five in the bag.

Grinning and stretching my legs out, I lift my hips off the seat and stick that one in my front pocket as she looks at me quizzically.

“
What? I’m saving it for later. You know, in case I want to cash it in.”

“
They’re guitar picks silly. They’re not sexual favor chips!”

“
I know what they are!” I say, sitting back in my seat and putting the car in the drive. Then glancing over at her I ask, “Did you give these to me as a present?”

Her lips purse in that adorable way she has when she’s trying to explain something. “Yessss”

“
Well then, they can be whatever I want them to be.”

She just shakes her head at me. “Okay, Loverboy.”

We’re driving down the highway listening to music when The Mighty Storm’s
Through it All
comes on the radio. Dahlia is quiet as she listens to the lyrics. It’s like she’s absorbing the great sound, almost as if trying to memorize it. Once the song finishes, I turn down the volume and look over at her. “Did I ever tell you we opened for Jake Wethers a couple of years ago?”

“
Before Johnny died? No fucking way! You knew both of them?” she responds immediately, practically jumping out of her seat.

“
Yes fucking way,” I direct right back, but without any of her enthusiasm. I don’t apologize for using the F-word since I consciously decided to use it to make my point.

“
Wow, you really met Jake Wethers? That’s amazing! I would love to meet him. I think he’s a musical genius. I am so sad to hear about his problems now, but I’m sure he’ll pull through it.”

“
Yeah, the whole situation sucks. He had it together when we met him and his band and I’m sure he’ll pull it together again.” I stop to think how hard it would be if I lost someone.

Shaking my head to rid those thoughts I go on. “We even hung out after the show. All of the guys were pretty cool. We actually learned a lot from them just playing with them the one time.”

“
I’m impressed. Jake Wethers. Hmm . . . Who else have you met? Any of the guys from One Direction?”

“
No,” I laugh. “Their music isn’t exactly my type of music, but do you like the D-bags?” I ask her, knowing what I’m about to tell her will definitely freak her out if she does.

“
Of course I do! I love Kellan Kyle! You know him too?”

I nod my head. “I met him once before we went on our first tour. He was in LA with his friend Evan, you know the drummer in his band?”

“
Of course I know who Evan is! Kellan met him on his way to LA while passing through Oregon.”

“
Oh I have no idea how he met Evan. Anyway, they came to Smitten's to jam with us, but that was the last I saw of them. They met a few guys here in LA and I think that’s when they formed the D-Bags. I never heard of them again until they went on tour last year.” I look over at her again as I tell her, “Bell met Kellan too. She spent most of the night he jammed with us talking to him in between sets and then met up with him later after we were done.”

“
Your sister went on a date with Kellan Kyle?”

“
I wouldn’t call it a date, and please don’t ask me for the details because I never did.”

“
See, you are famous,” she says, smiling over at me and finally sitting back down.

“
No, I’m really not. I’ve told you this,” I tell her again. I’m not jealous, of course. I think it’s cute actually that she loves music so much, and certain artists get her so excited. The excitement dies down, and we talk about other artists I’ve met and she’s met.

As I pass the exit that leads to our house, she points to the sign as I zoom by it. “Wait a minute, where are we going?”

Looking over at her, I say, “It’s a surprise. You’ll see, but we’re not sleeping at home tonight.”

“
So, where are we sleeping on Valentine’s Day? Please don’t tell me we’re sleeping on an air mattress.

Laughing as I turn the music up, I answer, “In a bed.”

She pouts her lips and reaches her long slender arm to turn the volume back down. “In a bed—where?

I love when she pouts her lips like that. She looks so hot.

Using the word she always uses on me, I say, “Yesss . . .”

“
Where are we going?” she huffs out.

I have to laugh because I think she might be having a fit in the seat of my car. “You’re not going to stomp your feet and cross your arms, are you? Because if you are, I’m going to have to pull over to watch this.”

She sticks her tongue out at me, and I try to grab it, but she moves away to quickly.

I turn the music back up and sing along, waiting for her next question, but she’s good at playing any game I throw her way. She doesn’t say anything as she shifts in her seat and hikes her dress up just a little higher. I give her a quick glance and look back at the road. I can play too. She stretches and her top slips down slightly. Damn she’s good. I keep singing and humming, thumping my fingers to the beat on the steering wheel, trying to ignore her provocative moves.

Then, she breaks and starts to speak.

I grin over at her.

“
So, are you going to tell me where we’re going?” she asks again.

“
Nope.”

“
Well, that’s too bad because I have a secret I want to share. And I was thinking a trade was in order. You know one for one,” she says, twisting a little, leaning her elbow on the console, and placing her chin in the palm of her hand.

“
Not interested.”

“
Oh I think you might be, especially since it has something to do with what I’m

wearing . . .Oh, I mean, not wearing.”

I whip my head around and glance her way. “You’re lying.”

Sitting up straight, she runs her fingers from the top of her boots to beneath her skirt where I can’t see them anymore. “Tell me where we’re going and find out for yourself.”

Instantly reaching my hand over to her lap, I blurt out, “The Beverly Wilshire.” I drive faster so I can just get there already.

Okay, so she’s good.

“
Oh my God. I’ve heard it’s amazing there! How’d you manage to get a reservation so quickly and for Valentine’s Day? I thought they book out almost a year in advance.”

I have to laugh because she thinks she knows me so well already, and actually she does.

Tapping my fingers on her leg, I answer, “I’ll never tell.”

“
Fine, be that way.”

“
Providing details wasn’t part of the trade. But a deal’s a deal.”

My fingers start to creep up her thigh. I can feel her soft skin and get hard instantly. Actually, I feel like I’ve had a raging hard-on since she put those boots on. I don’t give a shit about hearts and flowers anymore. I want her. I need to taste her. I want to be inside her. So I drive even faster.

I run my fingers all the way up the inside of her legs. Fuck, she wasn’t lying. She’s not wearing panties. I start to move my fingers and I can feel how wet she is. She’s just so fucking hot. Then suddenly she presses her hand on top of mine and pushes it away.

Grinning mischievously, she says, “That’s enough for now.” Shocked, I look over at her, and she seems to be the perfect picture of calmness.

On the other hand, my pulse is racing, and I feel like I’m the one who’s going to have the tantrum. “What? Why?” I mutter.

She takes my hand and holds it in hers as she crosses her legs. “Because, providing details wasn’t part of the trade.”

I’m horny as hell as I pull up to the hotel, and I hope the evidence in my jeans isn’t too noticeable as I hand the valet my keys. I’ve already checked us in, and I have the room key in my pocket, so we head straight to the elevators.

We’re finally alone in the elevator. My heart is beating about seven times too fast as I reach out and grab her. Pressing her body against the wall, I pull her mouth to mine and enjoy the taste of her. This is not a loving romantic kiss. That time has passed.

“
I want you, now,” I manage between my wet and tongue-filled kisses.

“
I want you too.”

Staggering out of the elevator, not wanting to unlock my lips from hers, I try to pull the key out of my back pocket, but she’s distracting me. Her fingers are in the waistband of my boxers, and she’s sliding them around to the front trying to unbutton my fly as I try to blindly reach behind and pull the keycard out.

We make our way to the room, and I somehow manage to open the door. As we enter, I shove her dress down, and it immediately falls to the ground. Fuck, she isn’t wearing a bra either. Inhaling deeply, I step back to just look at her. She’s standing in front of me in her fuck-me boots and pearls only. I really want to take a picture of her. I know I’ll never forget her image like this, right now, but I want to be able to see her whenever she’s not with me.

She stands there watching me watch her. I see her breath picking up as she runs her fingers through her hair.

I take another step back and glance around the room. “Champagne? I ask pointing to the bottle chilling on the table near the window and the bowl of strawberries next to it.

“
Absolutely,” she says, standing there biting her lip.

Walking over to where the bottle is, I pop the cork and pour us a glass, adding two strawberries to hers. “Can I ask you something?”

“
Sure, anything,” she answers, and I love that she feels completely comfortable with her body around me.