Overture (Rain Dance, Book 1) (Rain Dance Series) (11 page)

     
And there it
was.

     
It was
irreversible.

     
The instant I
got the chance to put my hands on him - to offer my own touch of affection - I
had been overcome and completely overthrown. How could I describe what I felt
in that one single moment? It went well beyond the realms of desire and lust. I
knew it was too soon to call it by
that
name. So what other word could I
use? How could I express what I felt when I was granted full access to caress
his skin with my own hands? In that instant, I wanted nothing more than to
shower him with affection and tenderness. I wanted him to know how grateful I
was, even if he couldn't understand why. I wanted to kiss every single surface
of his skin and thank him for simply existing - for causing me to feel
this
.

     
Pure. Unconditional.
Safe.

     
One touch and
my entire world was altered.

     
I was ruined.

     
He had gotten
to me. I had let him in, and now I felt things - real, human things. I tensed
as fear took hold of my entire body. Putting an end to the kiss, I slowly
pulled away, taking a moment to catch my breath. When I felt his thumbs softly
wipe across the sides of my eyes, I realized I was crying.

     
"Dammit," he breathed, looking somewhat contrite. "...I'm
sorry. I hadn't meant to move so fast. I didn't mean to scare you."

     
Swallowing, I
tried to put my emotions away for now. "You didn't scare me," I
sniffed.

     
He eyed me
skeptically as he wiped away another tear.

     
"You just
surprised me," I tried to explain. " …I can't believe you actually kissed
me."

     
No longer did
he look at me with doubt. He just sat still, studying me. After a few seconds
of silence, he spoke. "You kissed me back."

     
"I
did," I agreed, averting my eyes and trying to hide the blush that crept
onto my face. He saw it, anyway. Using the back of his fingers, he brushed
along my cheek with a tiny smile.

     
Here he was.
Touching me. Smiling at me.

     
Here
I
was. Awake. Not running.

     
"Wait a
minute," I snapped, his other words finally registering. "What do you
mean you hadn't meant to move so fast? So you
did
plan this?"

     
If he really
wanted you, you would know it.

     
Well, I knew it now.

     
He exhaled and ran a hand through his hair, effectively
managing to distract me for a second. I wanted to be the one doing that.
"On
that
day," he began. "When you ran into me and
you…" He seemed to be struggling for words.
Imagine that.
"…And then you were gone."

     
"…Okay?" I wasn't sure what to say.

     
His head tilted
to the side and he gazed at me curiously. "People come and go every single
day. I come across how many at a time? But you…you remained." His voice
was so soft right now. So…soothing.

     
I managed to
keep a straight face, but inwardly I was melting, squealing with girlish
delight.
But then…
"That's not why you bought my painting, is
it?" As much as I liked hearing what he had just said, I didn't like the
idea of him purchasing my art simply because he took a liking to me instead of
the actual piece.

     
"Partly," he admitted. "I
was
genuinely impressed
with it. More than that, I was captivated by it. My building, your vision.
Naturally, I had to have it. When I asked Mercedes about the artist, I
immediately knew she was speaking of you. I thought of it as a lovely
coincidence at the time, but I didn't purchase it with the intention of going
after you. That part didn't happen until later."

     
Slowly, a smile
crept its way onto my face and I found that I was now eager to hear the rest.
"What happened?"

     
"Well, I
couldn't get you out of my head," he replied honestly, looking somewhat
annoyed now. "As I said before, I'd hoped that I might've gotten a chance
to ask you about the painting during the exhibit. I was told then that you were
a bit…unconventional in your working method. Mercedes had wondered why, despite
the contacts and number of followers you've amassed, you were so set on staying
hidden. She's very particular about the artists she wants, you know. I was
surprised to hear that she still wanted to work with you, even after you turned
her down. I became curious after that and ended up finding your website, where
I came across your…other works."

     
"The
morbid ones, you mean," I mumbled, wanting to roll my eyes.

     
Eyes now full
of humor, his mouth curved into a crooked smile. "Or the fluffy, more
playful ones. Artists tend to find a specific style or theme that fits them and
then run with it. At first glance, your work might seem all over the place, but
it wasn't long before I found the common denominator."

     
"Oh."
I looked down, trying to avoid his gaze. By viewing my other works, he had seen
into a part of my mind. It might have been okay when we were more or less
strangers, but now it was suddenly much more personal. "…And what might
that be?"

     
"Duality.
Your art is as pure as it is deviant. A complete paradox, as well as a puzzle
for me to try and solve."

     
So I
was
an experiment. "...That's my favorite word, you know. Paradox."

     
Returning his
hand to my face, he brushed his thumb across my bottom lip.

     
"So then
you went through all the trouble of hiring me," I stated.

     
"It wasn't
any trouble," he replied indifferently. "I became a fan of yours, you
could say. Of course I wanted another one of your works."

 
    
"Then why not just contact me through
the site?"

     
"I had no
intention of going after you at first, but see…I knew there was
something
that happened between us that day. I needed to figure out exactly what it
was."

     
I couldn't
speak.

     
He moved his
hand to my neck, pressing two fingers against the skin.
Is he checking my
pulse?
"You aren't indifferent to me, are you?" he asked in a
low, almost inaudible voice.

     
"...How
could I be?"

     
"I thought
not when we first met. But when you came in for the interview, things were
different. You were entirely indifferent towards me."

     
The warmth I
had felt from his kiss was gone now, leaving me to feel spent and possibly a
little bit peeved. "That wasn't me being indifferent, that was me being
careful not to get carried away. And if you had no intention of trying to get
with me, what the hell changed? You know what - never mind, I don't care. God,
I fucking knew it. Putting me in this room, far away from any other living
beings…You hadn't planned on trying to seduce me, but hey, just in case, right?
Get the girl alone enough times and see what happens."

     
His brow
twitched the moment he heard me drop the f-bomb.
Yeah, buddy. Get used to
it. Actually, don't. I'll be gone before long.
"I wouldn't put it
quite like that."

     
"Oh
really? How would you put it then?"

     
"I
wouldn't put it any way." He frowned then. "You knew? You knew, yet
you've been acting like nothing happened. The entire time you've been here,
you've remained impervious. Why?"

     
Impervious?
I know I kept myself at a distance, but had he been hitting on me this whole
time? No, he'd been away on a business trip. I didn't feel like arguing with
him, though.

     
"Ethan…" …
How good it feels just to say his name
.
"…I don't date."

     
"Neither
do I, to be honest."

     
Oh…
"And I don't…" I swallowed. "I don't do the whole fuck-buddies
thing."

     
I didn’t miss
how his eyes had darkened slightly. "Good. I don’t want that from you."

     
I looked up at
him, puzzled. "Then what is it you want from me?"

     
"For now,
I just want you close by," he answered simply.

     
"Is that
all?" I didn't bother hiding my skeptical tone. "Nothing else?"

     
He smirked.
"Of course that's not all. But I won't push you. Look…" He paused,
searching for the right words. "What I'm feeling right now is…new. I've never
felt this much pull towards a woman before. I'll be content if we keep going as
we have been. For the most part."

     
Woman.
He called me a woman. This man saw me as a full-grown adult. I couldn't tell
him how much that meant to me. It was a silly little thing, but it was what I
needed to feel relaxed around him. Hopefully his perception wouldn't change
after he actually got to know me.

     
What
happened to being long gone, Doll?

     
With a heavy
sigh, I tilted my head back to look up at the sky. The rain was now pouring
down, much to my delight.

     
"I hope I
don't get too wet on the way home," I said, more to myself than to Ethan.

     
"I'm
giving you a ride, remember?"

     
I looked back
down to find him staring at me again. "Aren't you supposed to be
working?"

     
There was an
amused gleam in his eyes now, though I couldn’t imagine why. "I can take
breaks as I please. Perks of being the boss."

     
I suddenly
remembered where we were. "Wait a minute, what about Karina?"

     
"...What about
Karina?"

     
"You
two…You aren't together, then?"

     
"Did she
say we were?" he asked quietly, his expression suddenly hard.

     
"No."

     
"Good.
Because we aren't."

     
"But you
used to be, right?" I needed to verify that my intuition had been correct.

     
"...A few
years back, yes," he confirmed.

     
I nodded,
pleased with my assessment, and quickly dismissed the tiny jealous sparks that
shot off around me, instead focusing my attention on my surroundings. Four blue
walls were waiting for me to grace them with angels. "I guess I should get
to work. What time is it, anyway?"

     
Ethan checked
his watch.
His very expensive watch
. "A quarter past three."

     
"Already?
I was only supposed to take a little nap." I heaved myself up onto my
feet, holding out my arms to prevent myself from losing my balance again. Ethan
followed suit, only with much more grace.

     
"Did you
not get enough sleep last night?" he asked.

     
"No, I
did. Sometimes my body just gets all kinds of weird when I work on long
projects. Anyway, you should really get back to…whatever it is you do."

     
"If you've
been sleeping for most of the day, does that mean you haven't eaten lunch yet?"

     
I shook my
head. "I'll eat in a few minutes. I have food in my bag."

     
He looked at my
miniature backpack and pursed his lips, as if he wanted to say something but
was holding back. "Enough, I hope," he eventually stated.

     
I stretched my
arms over my head, flexing my fingers and twisting my wrists. "Go on, Mr.
Desmond. The real world needs you."

     
He came up to
me and brought a single finger to my cheek. Somehow, the small touch was enough
to stop my heart momentarily. "Five-thirty," he reminded me.

     
"That's
not a very long time from now."

     
"Isn't
it?" After a lingering gaze, he turned around and left without another
word.

     
I waited a few
seconds after he exited the room before I started breathing again.
"…Fucking hell."
Escalation level: 'What is quick?'

     
Did the last few minutes really just happen? Was I really
awake?