Connected (Connections #1)

With that, he just shakes his head and smirks. “You’ve been watching too many commercials.”

Giggling, I playfully nudge him. “Yeah, yeah I have.”

Still curious about his fame, I ask, “So when your home in LA, fans really don’t recognize you on the street?”

Turning around, he leans his elbows on the railing and thinks for a minute before answering. “Sometimes they do. It happens randomly though. I can be going for a run and someone will come up to me, tap me on the shoulder, and shove a pen in my face. But most of the time, unless I’m with the band, people are cool and just leave me alone.”

He seems a little saddened by my question and somewhat distracted by his own answer. I want to ask him whether being recognized or not being recognized is the reason for his thoughtful behavior when there is a knock on the door.

“Hold that thought,” he says as he turns to head back inside.

As he walks through the living room to answer the door, I can’t help but watch him. It’s his walk, his sexy sway that gets me every time. Once again, he turns around and catches me staring; and just like before, he winks at me and grins. I shake my head and laugh to myself. It’s been so long since I’ve smiled and laughed like this, I didn’t realize how much I’ve missed this feeling.

He opens the door, and one of the hotel wait-staff wheels in a dining cart with two bottles of champagne and a huge bowl of strawberries. I gush a little that he remembers I like champagne and that I like it with strawberries.

I’m surprised to see the waiter pull my suitcase and messenger bag out from under the cart as River tips him. Really? How? When? That must have been what he was doing at the front desk. This kind gesture melts away any remaining apprehension I have about being with him and replaces it with something else. It’s something way better and much more appealing. This I know as the goosebumps run rampant over my body, and the butterflies swarm in my stomach.

My mouth drops open and I take a step inside. “How did you get my things?”

Cocking his head, he breaks into a breathtaking grin as he uncorks the champagne bottle. “I knew you wanted to start the interview, so I asked the front desk to do me a favor and have your hotel send your things over.” He pauses, looking a little concerned. “I hope that’s okay?”

I bite my lip and nod my head as I walk over to him. “Of course.”

He’s pouring the champagne into the first glass as I approach him. He looks at me with an unyielding gaze. Getting as close as I can while he’s filling one of the glasses, I stroke his face with my thumb before softly kissing his cheek. “That was really sweet of you.”

His breath quickens, but as passion fills his eyes the champagne overflows and spills out the top of the glass. We both take a step back and laugh.

“I told you, bartending isn’t my thing,” he says as he sets the glass down and begins to fill the other. Once both glasses are full he drops a strawberry in each, and they sink to the bottom. He wedges another strawberry on the rim of each glass, picks one up, and hands it to me. His grin widens and he shrugs as he says, “I’m not sure which way you like it, in or out?”

Giggling, I take the glass and place my hand over his for a few seconds. “Usually I only put the berry on the rim, but I kind of like it your way.”

I look at the glass I’m holding and smile. “The way you did it is perfect, and now I have a new way to order champagne; not with one, but two strawberries.”

Shaking his head, I have a feeling he wants to say something else, but instead he lifts his glass and clinks it to mine. “To chance meetings.”

I smile at that and respond. “Yeah, to chance meetings and scheduled interviews.”

Taking a sip of his drink, he drags his tongue over his bottom lip in that sexy way he does. He leads us back to the balcony where we sit in separate chaise lounges. I rest my head back and drink my champagne, enjoying the air and his silent company. I think we must both be trying to regain our composure. After a few quiet minutes, he twists his body sideways and faces me. “Do you want to wrap up the interview?”

As I turn my head to answer, I see just a hint of skin at his waist where his shirt has come untucked. I can’t help but grin at how sexy every flex of his muscles and every movement of his abs are. The overall tautness of his body makes me lightheaded. It’s only now, as I think about him, his body, that I notice my erratic breaths.

I think to myself, there is no way I could do the interview now. It takes me a second to compose myself. I then remove the strawberry wedged on the side of my glass, and while looking directly at him I say, “Absolutely not! I can’t focus on work right now with the fabulous view. It’s breathtaking out here. I’d much rather just sit and enjoy it, if that’s okay with you?" I smile at him and slowly lick my strawberry before taking a bite.

Watching me intently as I chew, he turns to sit up. I notice his breath catch and he clears his throat. He places his feet on the concrete perpendicular to me and rests his elbows on his knees. In a low and husky voice he says, “Sounds good to me.”

His head is down, but he’s looking at me with his powerful eyes like I’ve never been looked at before. The way he pierces his eyes at me makes me anxious. He puts his palms together; lacing his fingers and inhales a deep breath. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I say while continuing to lie on the chaise. I dig my feet into the mesh underneath me in an attempt to stop my jittery nerves.

Bringing his head up, he runs his hands through his hair. “Have you dated anyone since he died?”

“No,” I whisper and say nothing else as my body suddenly goes cold.

Clearing his throat, he blinks thoughtfully and resumes his gaze. “Have you ever slept with anyone else?” he asks, then moves to lean back in his seat. Putting his arms behind his head, he stretches his legs before adding, “Besides him I mean?”

“No,” I whisper again, this time turning to look at the clear sky ahead with its stars shining brightly. “Sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”

With concern clearly etched in his voice and words spoken that I never expected, he says, “Hey Dahlia, look at me.”

As I turn my head to look at him, his expression is one of compassion and maybe a little unease. Swallowing, he holds his steady gaze. “That’s not pathetic at all. It’s a beautiful thing, being with the same person, caring about someone enough to want to get through all the shi . . . crap life throws your way with them.”

He’s talking to me about Ben, and it’s a little overwhelming at first. Strangely, I find comfort in being able to openly discuss my true reason for not waiting for him after his gig the night we met. I also find his concern and honesty extremely touching. Oddly enough, the mention of Ben’s name right now does not send me spiraling back into my memories. My mind is moving forward toward River, and my body starts to quiver with need again at that thought.

“Yeah, he was there for me through all the shit life threw my way.”

I pause; taking a moment to collect myself and think just for tonight I’m pushing Ben aside and letting River in.

“Ben might be the only man I have ever slept with, but he’s not the only man I’ve ever wanted to have sex with.”

He starts to say something, but I don’t let him. Instead I put my finger to my lips and make a shhh sound. I stand up to take that one big step keeping us apart. Once I do, I walk over to him and straddle myself on his lap. Watching him, I can’t tell if the look on his face is shock or surprise, but when he sighs, his arms instantly loop around my waist and I don’t really care anymore what his facial expression was. Enjoying our closeness, I lean in and whisper into his ear, “That’s why I left the bar five years ago, because I wanted what I shouldn’t. I didn’t care about anything else. I wasn’t thinking about consequences, so I had to leave.”

When I lean back a little to look at him, he gasps. His breath is shallow and quick as I wrap my arms around his neck and look into his eyes. That’s when I know it’s time to jump in. Running my hands through his messy hair, I press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I wanted you then, like I want you now.”

Grabbing my face, he tries to pull me to his lips, but I resist. I need a minute longer to finish saying what needs to be said. “I think you were right about timing and fate.” I stop for a second to lightly kiss his soft lips before I finish. “And I know you were right that I can do this, but River, what you don’t know is that I want to do this more than anything.”

I feel him shutter beneath me as a groan echoes from the back of this throat. I’m finished with words, so I move to kiss his neck inhaling his fresh scent and enjoying the smoothness of his stubble-free skin. Then I roll my tongue down his throat, making my way to the top of his chest. His head drops back, but as soon as I nip his skin, he sits up a little straighter and grabs my hips, clutching them and pulling me into him. My leather skirt rides up to just below my ass and I know he has figured this out when the palms of his hands glide down my backside and I hear another groan, louder this time as he hisses out an erotic breath.

When I trail kisses back up his neck, I can feel his lips in my hair and I can hear him pull air through his nose as if capturing the clean, citrus scent of my hair. My lips head toward his mouth and when I reach his jawline, I again feel the amazing smoothness of his skin. I stop to gaze at his perfect face and when he looks back at me with desire in his eyes, I know he wants me as much as I want him.

When I press a little harder into him, I smile because I can feel his arousal. This only ignites my body further and pushes the limits of my own desire; the desire that has been in hibernation for so long and is fondly welcoming aestivation.

Before I make it back up to his mouth, he dips his head and slams his lips over mine, flicking his tongue against mine. With both of us panting heavily, he stands up, taking me with him. He wraps his arms around my thighs, urging my legs around his waist. I grab the hair behind his head and hold on.

Walking through the living room door, he pauses dragging his tongue up my neck before gliding his nose to my ear and whispering, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything.” I say right back, without a shred of hesitation. And it’s true. I want him. I need him. This is never truer than right now as he’s touching me, running his hands over each of my ribs, over the almost non-existent curves of my chest, and up and down my body, searing my skin in his every wake. Just as I know that I haven’t been touched in almost two years, I also know I’ve never been touched like this before. As he continues to touch me, the searing turns into burning, and I know only he can cool it.

Instead of continuing toward the bedroom he takes a step toward one of the unopened glass doors. With my legs still framed around his waist, I’m surprised when I feel the slight chill of the glass against my back, and I gasp a little. My dress has ridden up to near waist level and my panties are completely exposed. Loving the feel of his hard body now pressed against mine, I deepen the kiss. My lips feverishly slide along his. My tongue moves in and out of his mouth with the same urgency as his.

We stay like that for I don’t know how long. He’s pressing his body to mine, sliding his hands up and down my length. Both of us kissing, tasting each other, caressing our tongues together. My hands are still in his hair, tugging harder as our kisses become before frantic. I’m moaning when he pulls back and sets me down.

As he pushes aside a piece of my hair, tucking it behind my ear, he seductively whispers, “Dahlia, I want you. I want to kiss you, touch you, make you come over and over again. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

Goosebumps cover my body and I’m so thankful for the hard glass that is supporting me. I’m shaking so badly right now I’m not sure I could support myself. He starts to trail kisses down my neck, over my décolleté, and down to my chest. Then he slides his tongue over my nipple, still covered by my dress. Pushing the fabric to the side, he holds it in place and his teeth nip the lacey material of my bra. Pulling my bra down, he starts sucking my nipple, tasting me, circling his tongue around and around, occasionally blowing a cool breath of air on each. He does this over and over again until I begin to moan and a slight jolt of pleasure flickers through my body.