Fated to be Yours (17 page)

We decide to move to safer subjects after that. He tells me of his days at Oxford and all the trouble that he caused with his fraternity brothers. I laugh some more at the stories, especially since I really cannot see him getting into any sort of trouble whatsoever.

And he’s incredibly attentive when he listens to me talk briefly about my life back in the States. He keeps his focus on my eyes, never darting around or looking bored as I go on about the neighbors that I think are slightly crazy. Or the dog down the street that likes to come visit me whenever he gets off his leash. Of course, my stories are nothing compared to his, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. He’s genuinely interested in everything that I have to say, treating it like it’s the most precious information that he’ll ever receive.

But as our stories progress, sadness creeps in again. The faint sounds of a ticking clock can be heard through the quiet murmuring of patrons and it seems almost symbolic as if it’s counting down our time together.

I shake off the feeling, needing to bring my focus back to the present and just enjoy our date. We eat and laugh some more as I listen to him talk. He switches into a few different languages with some of the stories about his travels and that does something entirely different to me. Andrew’s voice is sexy in his native British accent, but add other languages into the mix and it’s just . . . oh, my. Words can’t even describe it. Just listening to the way he rolls his R’s or the fluent French he slips into is damn near the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.

We walk hand in hand back to the hotel in a comfortable silence. I think he’s about all talked out and I know that I’m not about to give anything else up for tonight. I stop briefly and reach up on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. He turns his head to me and smiles.

“What was that for?”

“For tonight. Thank you for dinner. You were right, it was absolutely fantastic. The best food I’ve ever had.”

He leans in close. “Just wait until I cook for you back at my flat.”

“You cook?” I say with a surprised tone. He laughs and kisses the end of my nose.

“Why yes, I cook. Don’t you?”

I laugh and shake my head. “Does Macaroni and Cheese count?”

He barks out a loud laugh, drawing the attention of a few passing girls. They giggle as we pass them, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, he drapes his arm around my shoulders again as we continue our walk.

“That barely counts as food Tessa. Before you leave, I will cook for you.”

My heart skips a beat as I imagine sitting around his apartment, being in his space as he prepares a lavish meal for me. Okay, not quite lavish but something more than cereal. The possibility of invading his personal space has me giddy once again.

“I would love that Andrew.”

We walk into the quiet lobby of my hotel, still hand in hand, still silent and yet still communicating with each other. I’ve never met someone where I can have a quiet exchange and still understand everything. Body cues, the way our eyes stay locked on each other, simple caresses and accidental touches, all of it is a form of communication between us. Each of them let the other know what we’re thinking and feeling, our wants and desires without needing to give it a voice. And in that particular connection there’s something else that lies beneath, something larger than the both of us and am afraid to confront it.

Andrew holds me close until we reach my door. The ever present heat in his eyes burns through another layer of my resolve as I snake my arms around his neck, pulling him into me. Our mouths descend upon each other, nipping and sucking, tasting and savoring at the same time. He presses me against the door and swallows my moans as I feel his hips roll into mine. The air around us heats up and I swear there are fireworks going off somewhere in the distance.

We break away from each other, both breathless and resting our foreheads together. He tilts his head, pressing his lips against my ear before whispering in the seductive, quiet voice that I love.

“Have breakfast with me again? I want to spend as much time with you as possible before we meet everyone else.”

My panting breaths bounce back against my face from the collar of his shirt. I press my lips against his warm skin, letting him feel my smile rather than see it.

“Yes, breakfast would be fantastic. What time?”

He pulls my head back to look into my eyes. “Nine. I’ll come get you.”

Our lips brush together once more before he takes a step back.

“Afraid that I’ll leave you standing alone in the lobby?” I smirk.

He shakes his head. “Or maybe I’m hoping to catch you in just your towel again.”

I laugh and put the keycard in the slot. “Don’t bet on it. That may have been a one-time deal.”

I open the door and lean into the jamb. “I will see you at nine.”

“Goodnight, sweet Tessa,” he says, closing the gap and giving me a final kiss goodbye.

I can never get enough of his mouth and am thankful that he’s more than eager to give it to me. I can’t think of a time where I’ve ever kissed someone as much as him.

And I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Dream of me,” he whispers before he retreats with a wink.

And just like that he disappears around the corner, leaving me with my wits scattered about all over the hallway of the hotel.

Dream of him? If only I could. But with the promises that he’s made tonight and the hope for a future, maybe I can finally let go of my dream man and focus on Andrew instead.

T
HE BRIGHT SUNLIGHT PEEKS THROUGH
the curtains, causing me to squint awake. A pounding ache spreads across my face as I open my eyes to discover what I already know to be true. The base of the bedside table is becoming a constant fixture of my morning vision and frankly I’m getting quite sick of it.

Why couldn’t I dream of Andrew like he wanted me to? Is it truly that hard to dream of a man who is perfect in every way? Obviously he must have had a head injury at some point in his life.

Dragging myself into the bathroom, I reach for my giant bottle of Advil, shaking several little orange pills into my hand. Is it wrong that I never leave home without my five hundred count bottle? At this point in the game, they’re more like Tic Tacs than ibuprofen.

My eyes fall onto my reflection in the mirror and I cringe at what I see. Dark circles ring my dull hazel eyes once more from a fitful night of sleep. My neck aches as I twist it from side to side, trying to get a good angle to examine the now darkening bruise on my cheek. Somehow in my extremely good luck I managed to hit the exact same spot as yesterday.

With a shaking hand, I reach up and lightly brush my fingertip across it, causing me to wince in pain. There is absolutely no way I’m going to be able to hide this from Andrew. It’s already turning a nasty shade of purple and red. I close my eyes and sink to the floor, curling up into a ball against the shower door. Just once, I’d like to wake up and not have to hide some hideous bruise on my body. People will begin to think that someone is beating me. At least they would if there were someone in my life.

In desperate need of a distraction and to not lock myself in my head, I decide to sing my mood away as I pull myself off the cold hard floor. Plugging in my phone to the iPod docking station, I crank up my playlist to a level where I shouldn’t disturb anyone else but can still be heard in the shower and sing my heart out. Just so I can block out every negative thought regarding the dream man and nature’s cruel joke of keeping me single.

I’m just finishing my morning routine when I hear Kara’s telltale knock at my door. With a laugh, I open the door and she comes barreling inside with a dreamy expression on her face.

“Oh my God, that man is insatiable! So much phone sex last night. We’re on two different continents and he can still bring me to multiple orgasms. I think I may have carpal tunnel syndrome.”

I can’t help but laugh as she flops her perfect body onto my bed. One of the things I love about Kara is her ability to say exactly what’s on her mind. “Ew, gross. There’s a visual that I do not need Kara. So how is Christopher?”

“Amazing, as always. He was still at the office when I surprise Skyped him wearing nothing but my panties. It would have been better if he were in a meeting, but then he wouldn’t have answered if he were. Oh, how that man rocks my world.”

“Always the drama queen. Isn’t it slightly dangerous sleeping with the boss? I mean what happens if you two break up?”

“Are you kidding me? You know that I’ve been fucking around with Chris for years. I think we’re finally getting ready to make it public rather than hide it. You know, try the whole dating in plain sight and whatnot.”

She pulls herself up onto her elbows and smiles at me. She always looks so happy when she’s talking about her relationship with Christopher. I think I would be a nervous wreck if I had to hide my relationship with someone, forced to keep it a secret. But it doesn’t seem to bother her too much, or at least she doesn’t let on that it does. All I want is for her to be happy.

“I’m so happy for you, Kara. You and Christopher always looked good together I thought. Not that it’s that big of a secret around the office that you two are together. I mean, the way gossip is around there I’m surprised you’re not having a shotgun wedding due to some unplanned pregnancy. You know how it is when you work in an office full of women.”

“Jealous bitches. They’ve been trying to get their claws into Chris for as long as I can remember.” She moves her eyes across my outfit and gives me a reassuring smile, knowing that I’m nervous about how I look. “You look nice today. I love the outfit.”

I look down at the tan corduroy pants and blue tunic sweater and compare it to her gray twill pants, white button up blouse and multicolored scarf. “I feel underdressed compared to you though.”

Kara scoffs and waves her hand at me. “Whatever. It’s just another tour. Besides, it complements you perfectly. Oh, and speaking of work, Chris has requested that we have a meeting afterward with him so no dates for you tonight. Duty calls,” she says, lifting her body from my bed.

She moves closer to me and I try to back away before she gets a good look at my face. Unfortunately, I’m too late.

“What in the hell happened to you?”

My hand covers the spot as I look down while I walk away. “It’s nothing. I fell out of bed again and I think I hit the same spot as yesterday.”

“What the fuck? It looks like you went a few rounds with a boxer and lost.” She follows me to the bathroom where I try to cover it up again.

“It’s not a big deal. Just help me try to hide it. I don’t want Andrew to see it.”

“You know, you should seriously talk to a psychiatrist about those dreams of yours. They could help you get rid of them. You can’t go on day after day hurting yourself like this. It’s not good for you.”

Kara places her hand on my shoulder and I fight back the tears that threaten to fall. See a psychiatrist? That’s all I need is for a professional to tell me how sad and pathetic I am. Or worse, they’ll say that I’m just like my mother.

My eyes go wide and Kara’s arm instantly wrap around me from behind. “Oh, I’m sorry Tess. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything. It’s just . . . oh, fuck me and my lack of a filter.”

I turn and wrap my own arms around her, pulling her close. “It’s okay, Kara. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. But I’m not going to therapy. I just can’t.”

She pulls back and I can tell that she’s forcing her smile. “Well, then maybe I’ll buy you those bed rails that toddler’s use. That way you can’t fall out and hurt yourself.”

We both laugh and all the tension that was in the room has now vanished as if it was never there. Leave it to Kara to always find a way to lighten the mood.

“But in all seriousness, I think you should talk to someone about them. It can’t be good for you to continually have the same dream to the point of throwing yourself over the edge of the bed.”

“Kara, it’s just a dream. A silly idea of me being with a guy, whom I never get to see and is supposedly
the one.
Trust me, if I could dream about anything else I would. I mean, I’ve been begging myself to dream about Andrew for the past few nights and I can’t even do that.”

The cogs in Kara’s brain are working overtime as I watch her face twist from side to side, deep in thought. “Tell me again what your dream man looks like.”

With a huge sigh, I plant myself on the edge of the tub and close my eyes, recalling what I can of his features. “He’s tall. Muscular but not bulky, even though I don’t get to see much of his body, but somehow my fingers know what it looks like. His face is still in the shadows most of the time, but more and more pieces are starting to show. He has the bluest eyes with beautifully sculpted cheekbones and stubble across his jaw. I think he has dark hair, but I can’t tell because of the shadows. And he’s been calling my name more and more in the dream. His voice is low and seductive, but I can’t tell where he’s from. He doesn’t sound like he’s from back home.”

My eyes open and I watch as her face lights up. “Hmm, okay then.”