Wrapping my hand around her delicate wrist, I remove it from her face. “Don’t cover them up like that.”
She parts them, and I can almost see the breath leaving her lungs and escaping through the small opening she just created. My fingers rest right on her pulse as it beats in tune with my own heartbeat. There’s a clear line of tension stretching from her mouth to mine. I want to bite down hard on those lips, suck them between my own pink lips, and slide my tongue along each one.
The timer on the microwave begins to beep saving me from acting on my thoughts. One day I’m going to kiss her, take those lips and suck on them for so long they become swollen and redder than they already are. And then, I’m going to suck on her other lips and make her tremble beneath me—but not tonight.
“Dinner’s ready.”
Nodding, she doesn’t move. With the strength of Hercules, I remove my hand from her wrist and get our plates ready.
“That was so good. Do you always cook like that?”
Two glasses of wine down, and she’s cleared her plate. “Every night.”
“I’m coming over here for dinner more often.” Staring out into the dark abyss of the ocean, the night is cool and calm for January. There’s a light breeze blowing her hair around her face, and she looks so carefree and content sitting here with me. The distant look that so often plagues her face when I’m around her vanished. Maybe I fill a void for her, a loneliness she has yet to share with me.
“You can have dinner with me any night you want.”
Her eyes light up with pure delight, “You are going to regret that statement.”
“Why?” I ask chuckling.
“Because I’ll take you up on it and eventually you’re going to have to kick me out.” I sit and stare at her smiling face, deciding the asshole she’s talked about must not be her boyfriend. Obviously he means something to her, and I’m going to find out what it is, but the idea that she could possibly be free, that she may not be as off limits as I once thought, makes me want to cup her stunning face in my hands and kiss her.
I lean forward, my hands resting lightly on her thighs. “Green Eyes, you are always welcome here.”
The air around us becomes thick and silent, her lips parting slightly and her eyes traveling to my mouth. I need to kiss her.
I’m going to kiss her.
“Won’t Reed get jealous?”
Startled out of my lust filled haze I shake off the impulse to lean forward and claim her tempting lips. “What?” I ask baffled.
“Reed, isn’t he like . . . into you?”
I’m looking at her confused as hell. “Are you asking if Reed is . . . are you asking if he’s gay?”
Her face blushes deeply, and she starts to laugh, her hands covering her face in complete embarrassment. “He seems so into you. It was only a thought, one I clearly should have kept to myself.”
Laughing at her heated face, I take her hands in mine. “No, he’s far from gay. Just a really good friend and my business partner.”
She’s looking at me with pure curiosity, and even though I hate talking about my past, there’s no point in digging up shit that’s far behind me, she should know a little about me if I’m ever going to earn her trust.
“We’ve both been through some traumatic experiences in our lives. Reed lost his sister a while back, and I was in a bad car accident. Plus, we work together.”
“Is that where you got your scar?” She looks down to my waist, the scar covered by a dark red thermal, and her eyes land on exactly the spot that scar resides. The intense curiosity in her voice tells me this conversation is over. Nodding I stand and clear our plates.
Addison is following behind me, her presence noticeable. My awareness of her is so prevalent, my senses tuned in to everything about her. If she suddenly stops walking, I know the exact location of her feet, if her breath catches or her heart beats a little stronger, I hear it. I wonder if she notices the connection, as well. She’s right behind me, the warmth of her body radiating through my long sleeve shirt and I’m not surprised when suddenly her hand gently traces the line where my scar leads. My entire body tenses as she stills her hand on the outside of my shirt.
“I have scars, too, Damian, but they’re not as visible as yours.”
“I’d be surprised if he ever plays soccer again. He’ll be lucky if he can walk when he wakes up.”
“You heal my son. Do you hear me? You will heal my son! He must play!”
I can hear my dad’s voice. Anyone in a five-mile radius can probably hear his voice. He’s yelling at someone of authority and since I’m the only son he knows about, he must be talking about me. But I can’t see him, and it’s freaking me out.
Someone squeezes my hand and the scent of Jasmine surrounds me. “Mom.” The letters form in my mind, the word desperately wants to escape my lips, but no sound comes out. She kisses my forehead, and a tear drips down onto my skin. I feel her turn away from me. “Andre! Leave the doctor alone. Damian doesn’t need to hear this right now.”
Doctor . . . my leg. Fuck. My leg hurts like a motherfucker. And my side. Something is wrong with the left side of my body.
Blinding light . . . the car horn . . . her.
The blonde hair that’s spilling over to my seat. The streaks of blood getting redder by the second. Megan! I should help her. I should say something to her, but I’m in too much pain. And that damn horn is fogging my brain.
“He is no one without his football, Carol. You must understand this.”
“Damian is not you, Andre.”
No dad. I’m nothing like you.
I’m staring into the sink, our dirty dishes lying in a pile. Addison’s hand is still on my side and in one movement, I have her backed up to the counter, her lips parting, her eyes darkening with desire, making me instantly hard. I know she can feel it. Her breath deepens and her lids lower.
I trace her bottom lip with my thumb, my hand cupping the side of her face. She stops breathing, and I’m sure she’s about to pass out here in my arms—that would ruin the entire evening.
My lips curl up into a small grin, “I don’t want to talk about scars tonight, Addison.”
She swallows. “What do you want to talk about?”
Nothing. I want to taste her so unbelievable bad. I want to taste every damn inch of her. But patience is a virtue, and I’m an extremely virtuous person. “I want to have a piece of your cake.”
Her entire body relaxes, her shoulders fall limp, her lips close and her eyes soften. “I’ll get a knife.” She’s clearly relieved I didn’t bend down and claim those lips, and I have to wonder why a woman who is obviously attracted to me, would be so tentative.
Backing away from her, I do the dishes, making sure the water is as cold as it will go. She hands me a plate with a mound of what looks like a mixture of bread and frosting with some yellow food coloring sprinkled around and we make our way to the sofa. Forcing a smile, I take a small bite. It tastes better than it looks, but she should definitely keep her day job.
“How is Reed your business partner?”
Ever since my dad left me a considerable trust fund, I’ve never had to work. But I’m also not one to sit around and live off someone else’s money. Once I accepted I was never going to play soccer again, figuring out my life’s journey, took more strength than I like to admit, but with Reed’s help, I’m finally there.
“We create workout programs for people.”
“Like a personal trainer?”
I shake my head. “More along the lines of mass production.”
She looks confused and I blank stare her back.