Well, that was a lot easier for him than it had been for me, but more importantly, I knew he was telling the truth.
His pants fell, revealing the fullness of his body. He was a sculpture, a masterpiece of skin, hair, and heart. Our bodies collided, and I wrapped my legs around him. He tore away my underwear, the shreds falling to the floor at his feet.
“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, just as breathless as I had been.
And that’s when it hit me.
The most beautiful thing I had ever seen just called me the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
All of the sudden, this town didn’t seem so bad.
He moved again, slower this time, to lay me across the bar. I was naked— trembling and exposed—but the look on his face told me I was safe, that he would never let anything happen to me. And, for the first time, I knew what he meant about me wanting someone to take care of me.
He was right.
He settled over me, all caresses and kisses, his hands finding my wrists and gliding them against the marble-top, pushing my arms over my head and pinning my hands against the counter. I felt completely out of control, and it felt … good.
As though not satisfied with all that had already transpired, his hands explored my body again—pinching, twisting, teasing. Biting, nibbling, scraping. I was near tears with need when finally he finally rolled on a condom and guided himself inside of me, white stars shooting across my vision as he thrust himself deeper.
I bit my lip, trying to keep my whimpers and moans from turning louder, but when he thrust again, my mouth flung open and, like an audience welcoming the hottest model of the season, a scream of ecstasy escaped my lips.
So much for quitting and so much for taking care of myself. But as good as Abram was in bed—or rather, on the bar countertop—I had to wonder …
Could he really keep me alive?
Chapter 11
I woke with a sweet ache pulling at my bones. I was on the floor upstairs—that was much was clear from the way my body was contorted. But it didn’t matter. I was a world away from uncomfortable. I had just experienced the most magnificent thing in the world, something so amazing I was sure it would never be duplicated.
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep and stretching out the satisfaction. The sun seeped low through the windows, indicating the fall of evening.
I reached across for Abram, yearning to feel him against my fingertips again. When I came up empty, my eyes flung open. He was gone. Go figure. He’d probably snuck off as though I was some convenient booty call.
Is that what I was?
Well, that would make things awkward. Regret for my actions trickled into my mind. Looking over to where Abram should have been, I found a crumpled note.
I had to go.
I was going to wake you,
But then you made this little moaning sound and pursed your lips.
I didn’t have the heart to disturb something so beautiful.
I have a lot I want to say to you, a lot I think you need to know.
But a letter doesn’t seem like enough, and those texts machines are confounding.
Let me make you breakfast tomorrow instead.
I would love to show you what a real pancake tastes like.
-Abram
A smile broke across my face, and suddenly I didn’t feel like a booty call after all. I felt … wanted. Sure, it was a stupid note on a crumpled napkin smeared with barbeque sauce, but for Abram, that was a big thing. I knew that, and because I knew that, it meant something.
I sat up, folding the crumpled napkin and slipping it into my purse, which at some point while I slept had been placed neatly beside me along with my shoes and clothes.
I had never been the type of girl who did the whole ‘keepsake’ thing. Reminders were just that, and I didn’t want to be reminded. But there was something about this note, something about this man, that made me feel differently somehow.
My stomach rumbled, and I was instantly glad Abram wasn’t here to hear it. I wasn’t about to apologize for being hungry, but something about the idea of being stark naked on the floor of a demolished club with your tummy growling like a grizzly bear didn’t seem very attractive.
I stood, ran my fingers through my hair, and slipped on my clothes. Leaving my shoes off and trying ignore the ugly yellow-green bruises and scrapes on my feet that would surely scar, I sauntered barefoot across the long upstairs hall, looking down over the balcony into the main area.
I felt comfortable here. Really comfortable. And it had little to do with the fact that my bare ass had touched the paint-splattered walls.