Connected (23 page)

“
That! You’re back and forth with me, with your actions, with your emotions. You act like you don’t remember me, then spring on me that you do. You flirt with me and then you stop on a dime. You kiss me and then you pull away as soon as I touch you. You’re mad then you’re not.” I don’t stop to take a breath or let him speak before finally raising the hand he’s holding and letting it go. “You’re holding my hand, then . . .” I trail off, not sure of how to finish that thought. Tearing my gaze from his, I try to rein in my emotions, to wipe the flustered girl up off the floor.

Pulling myself together, I look over at him again and decide to continue. As I’m about to speak, I can’t help but notice that he seems to be contemplating everything I just said. I can read it on his face. So I stop and give him a chance to respond.

“
Hmmm . . ." is his only response, as he quickly slides next to me and suddenly his lips are on mine. He’s kissing me very softly. He tugs at my bottom lip before he leans away and moves back into the center of the booth. He rests into the bench and puts both hands behind his head as he looks past me out into the night. When his eyes shift back to mine he says, “Here’s the thing Dahlia, you confuse the shi . . . out of me. Boyfriend or not, I really thought we had some epic connection and then you bagged out without even giving us a chance.” When he finishes he just shakes his head and gazes out the window. His eyes are darker now, sad even.

The waiter returns and we order our food. I’m not the least bit hungry anymore. My stomach is in knots, and I feel uncertain as to why we are still discussing this, where we’re going with this, and what the purpose of staying here is. I just want this conversation to be over. And if we leave together I have no misconceptions that this attraction isn’t anything but a one-night stand, and I’m all right with that. I’ll put aside my confusion and just be with him. I’m craving intimacy: a touch, his touch; a kiss, his kiss; and so much more. But this bittersweet conversation is blocking the way to satisfying my needs, and the driver behind the madness is confusion.

His confusion. He’s confused? My confusion. I’m confused!

Oddly enough, the desire I feel for him is only being stroked by our emotional conversation. What I see in him is so real. I feel like I know more of him, of his soul, than I knew of Ben’s in a lifetime. And that draw is irrefutable, but confusing at the same time.
Why do I feel like this?

If tonight happens, I know I will have to deal with tomorrow’s emotions because I’m certain my flame won’t be doused. But to get to tonight, we have to get past this bitterness. We have to speak the unspoken words about Ben, my relationship with Ben. I’m not sure I can.

Soft music is playing overhead, and the candle flame has burned out, but River’s ominous glow is still ever present, and he’s still sitting in the middle of the booth. As I glance over at him. I see sadness in his face, and the pull I feel to be closer to him is overwhelming.

Knowing I’m the cause of his confusion, of his sadness, makes me want to close the distance between us. Physically and emotionally. So I move just a little closer to him. As I do, he shifts his gaze to mine and the corner of his mouth lifts slightly into an almost charming half-smile.

When I’m close enough, I grab his hand, lacing my fingers with his as I say, “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to understand why I didn’t say anything or stop what was happening between us then because I didn’t, I don’t, understand it myself. All I know is, I was a young college girl who flirted with an insanely attractive guy at a bar and had to leave because she felt like the cosmic universe had crashed down on her. And she couldn’t have that, she had a boyfriend.”

I pause a minute, scanning the room before continuing, but I don’t see anything but his intense stare. “To be perfectly honest, she didn’t even think that guy would remember her from that night. And that’s why she didn’t bring it up, that’s why,
I
,
River, didn’t bring it up.” When I finish my speech, I take a deep breath and exhale, clutching his hand a little harder to help contain all the emotion.

River pauses for a moment to watch me and then gives me his most charismatic grin. “Hmmm . . . you flirted?” Then rather seductively he continues with, “I think I was the one flirting with you, and I couldn’t stop because you were perfect really, still are.”

Bringing my hand to his mouth, he softly kisses it. “Beautiful girl, of course I remember you. How could I not? You’re unforgettable.”

Our food arrives and I try to contain the tears welling in my eyes. Before he lets go of my hand he squeezes it and with the utmost of charming looks, he winks at me. With that one little look I can feel the tension washing away.

Then he does the most adorable thing I have ever seen a man do. He crosses his right hand to his heart and draws an X over it as he says, “Dahlia, I was never mad. I could never be mad at you, I promise.”

Believing him completely, I decide to leave that conversation behind for now and like River does so well, I change the subject. As we eat, I ask him about his childhood, his family, and his career. We talk again with the ease of familiarity. He casually touches me whenever the opportunity presents itself and before I know it we’ve finished our meals and our second drink.

The waiter returns, asking if we want dessert. I pass, but River orders chocolate mousse. Once the dessert arrives he offers his spoon to me and I sample it in the most seductive way I can. Carefully and slowly eating the mousse off his spoon. Taking the spoon from my lips, he leans into me, licks some chocolate off my upper lip with the tip of his tongue, and then leans back on the bench
.

I’m not sure if it is the alcohol, his fresh scent, or just him, but the sexual tension is everywhere, and every fiber of my body is screaming for him to touch me. I can’t take it any longer. So I flat out bring my hand to River’s neck and pull him to my mouth, pressing hard, not caring that we’re in public. I allow his tongue to meet mine just once before I pull back.

Sitting back and grinning, I can see he is looking at me that way again; that mesmerizing way he has with his eyes. He leans into me again and whispers in my ear, “Are you ready to get out of here, because I am?”

I want to scream, ‘I was born ready’, but I restrain myself and simply move to stand up. Swallowing hard and slightly nodding my head, I say, “Excuse me while I use the ladies room.”

When I exit the ladies room, he is standing against the wall, foot propped up, and head down, grinning. He’s the epitome of sexy with his long lean toned body and killer smile. He looks up at me and grabs for my hand. He surprises me by gently backing me up to the wall. He kisses my forehead before moving his mouth down to my nose and kissing it too. He moves to my lips and tenderly but aggressively bites down on my lower one and then looks at me. I close my eyes as he sucks on my lip, sending an overwhelming sensation through my body. Pressing his lips firmly to mine, he starts to kiss me in the most erotic way. First, he lightly kisses me, then opens our mouths together and exhales. I can only inhale his sweet breath. He runs the tip of his tongue over my lower lip before slipping it into my mouth and firmly pressing his lips to mine. I’m left breathless as the kiss ends and he takes my hand.

As we leave the restaurant, River takes me out to the terrace to watch the craziness below us. We talk about what we see and the beauty of the night. We are both leaning over the stone wall gazing below when he steps back and turns me to face him. He puts one hand on the small of my back and the other behind my neck. “You are so beautiful,” he says then he kisses me again, and just like before, it’s in a way that I have never been kissed. There is emotion, compassion, and lust all wrapped together in his kiss. The kiss is slow, full of passion. Our mouths move in sync with our tongues, but unlike before, he doesn’t press harder or move faster. He goes slower and the kisses turn into burning desire. As our lips part, he doesn’t stop. He whispers something I can’t hear. I think I might be purring. I know I am breathless. I am almost panting as he starts kissing my neck, nipping and gently biting his way up to my ear where he whispers, “I want you so much.”

I pull him to me, crushing my lips to his. He responds instantly. He licks my top lip then sucks on it; he does the same to my bottom lip before locking his mouth on mine. He moves his hands down my backside and presses me closer to him so I can feel his hard body on mine. He slides his tongue over the roof of my mouth, and I know I’m moaning as I step back.

“
Where did you learn to kiss like that?” I manage to say breathlessly.

He shakes his head, and his fully dimpled grin returns as he, just as breathless, responds. “I wasn’t just kissing you. I was also whispering in your mouth,” he says lightly laughing. “Do you want lessons? Because I might be able to swing something for you.”

Laughing together now, both out of breath and both panting, he laces our hands together and looks at me. “I want to tell you something before we go,” he says, pulling me back into his body. “Do you know my band’s song Once in a Lifetime?”

I nod my head because I know that song very well. It’s one of the ones I used to listen repeatedly on my iPod.

“
I wrote that song about you. About meeting you that night.”

Smiling, while trying to swallow the emotion that was lumped in my throat, I manage to verbalize only a fraction of the feelings welling deep within me; the true appreciation of being someone’s muse and just the absolute awesomeness and gratitude that he wrote a song about me. My words are short and clipped, and I don’t care anything about a one-night stand or not. “You wrote a song about me? Really?” It’s all I can say before throwing my arms around his neck and crushing my lips to his. I kiss him hard before whispering, in my most seductive voice, “Take me back to your hotel. Now!”

River sighs as he stares at me for a few seconds, blinking his eyes before saying, “You’re just so beautiful.” He grabs my hand even tighter, if that is possible, and leads me quickly down the strip. In our haste, we abandon the idea of a cab because at this time of night, we can honestly walk to the hotel faster than a cab could get us there. As we walk, I notice he has lost that sway of a walk that I admire. Instead he’s walking fast, with purpose, and I’m following his lead, finding it hard to keep up as we stride into the night.

Reaching the hotel lobby, he sits me in a chair and tells me to stay put as he walks over to the front desk and has a short conversation with the clerk. The lobby is quiet with just a few people coming and going. I don’t even know what time it is. I watch him as I sit back in the chair and think,
God he is so hot
.

I see him hand the clerk a bunch of cash and wonder what the money is for; does he pay his bills in cash instead of credit card? As he walks back over to me, he’s smiling and I melt again. He reaches for my hand, pulling me out of the comfortable chair, and leads me through the lobby.

The closer we get to the elevator the more nervous I become. My breathing accelerates as memories of Ben flutter in and out of my head, and my stomach starts to flip-flop with thoughts of River.

My mind is shouting at me to proceed with caution, and I wonder if my thoughts are echoing off the walls.
What am I doing with this man?
I have slept with one person my whole life. Am I betraying Ben by consciously deciding to have a one-night stand, because this cannot possibly be more? I know that. He’s a player, I’ve read this, and I know this. God, how many women has he slept with? And even through all these warnings, the thought that is loudest in my head as I grip River’s hand as tightly as if we were walking down the street of a dark alley is,
Am I ready to be with someone else, someone who isn’t Ben?

While my mind echoes, ‘Don’t take that path.’ My body is screaming, ‘Yes, take the road less traveled.’ My body is telling me I want this man, his touch, his kiss, everything he wants to give and more. And the longer we walk into the unknown, the more my mind starts to agree with what my body is screaming.

So, as he pushes the elevator button, my own light turns red. I can’t do this. I can’t sleep with him. I’m trying to absorb the tranquility in the room, my breath starts to shallow and I try to decide how to jump off this ride I so willingly boarded.

Sensing my nervousness or even my apprehension, he caresses my cheek, gliding his thumb over it and asks, “What’s wrong?”

When the elevator doors open, I clear my throat and yank on the hand guiding me down the wrong path away from the open doors. Looking at nothing but the shiny marble floor, I drop his hand and manage to say, “I am so sorry River, I’m not sure I can do this, that I can be with you.”

He gently repositions me so my back is against the wall, and he’s standing in front of me. Placing his thumb on my chin, he guides me to look at him, to gaze into his powerful green eyes. While intently staring at me he says, “You know the song I wrote about meeting you? Have you ever really listened to the lyrics?”