The smell of tobacco permeated, kicking in the urge to share it with him. “You smoke?”
He flinched, facing her, and fumbled for the ashtray, cigarette aimed to be squashed.
“No, no. Don’t put it out. Here.” She curled her fingers back and forth. “It smells delicious.”
He held it out, reluctance in his wide eyes. “You smoke?”
“I asked you first.” She plucked it from his fingers and climbed between his spread legs, back to his chest. Cigarette poised between two fingers, she swiped through the screens on her phone. Lebanese Blonde by Thievery Corporation. Perfect. She set it to play on a low volume and placed the phone on the side table.
With a hand on her tummy, he pulled her close and leaned them back in the lounger. “No. I don’t smoke.” His tone was deep and teasing.
She pulled a drag through her lungs and exhaled. “Me neither, but over the past couple years, I’d get this lofty feeling of nostalgia and buy a pack.” She took another pull and passed it to him. “Ask me why.”
He accepted it, fingers lingering over hers. “Why?”
“You stayed after I inked your outline, smoking your cigarette, waiting for me. I didn’t give it much thought then.” There was so much on her mind that night. Marrying Noah. Running from Roy. She fought a shiver and caressed the denim-clad thighs bracing her, reveling in the strength of the man and his heart. “You liked me, and you weren’t ready to let me go. I figured that out months later. So I’d smoke and try to touch that moment in time. I’d imagine myself waiting with you. Waiting for you.”
The cigarette butt skipped over the concrete patio. He flipped her, chest on chest, and stared into her eyes, his expression stripped bare. “I love you.”
“Mm. I can’t relate love to writing music or personal experience, but I have this terrifying and wonderful sensation flowing through me.” Making decisions for her, consuming her. “It’s more powerful than any label I could give it, but if I had to name it, I would call it love.”
He pulled her up his chest and buried his face in her neck. A comfortable silence whispered over them.
“I quit that night.”
Quit? Quit what? His chest rose and fell steadily beneath her. She waited.
“I quit smoking. Drugs. Booze. Sex. I wanted to be clean and worthy of you.”
Her heart soared. Drug free and celibate? For her? Oh, what a soothing balm for her jealousy.
“I was a reformed man for two months. Then I flew to St. Louis to see you…”
And she was in the penthouse, grieving Noah and clawing at her chain.
“I only made it two weeks after that. Two weeks.” His tone was low and thick with regret.
“You thought I was dead. And never mind that. You owed me nothing. I was just a girl in a one-hour blip on your way to a successful life.”
“No, Charlee. I was just a boy who was too low to find success. And too high to care. One hour with you showed me how to succeed.”
The rumble of faraway planes passed above. Water splashed in the pool around the corner. She snuggled into him, no longer needing the nostalgia of tobacco, no longer waiting. She suddenly wanted to wash away the nicotine lingering in her mouth. “I’m going to go get something to drink.” She lifted off him and moved toward the corner where the pool deck lay beyond. “Want anything?”
“Not dressed like that, you’re not.”
His t-shirt reached her thighs. Seriously?
“I’ll go.” He rose and stretched that fine muscular frame. “Share a bottle of Merlot with me?”
“Mmm. Yes, please.”
He scanned the pitch black acreage, probing the perimeter hidden by the night. There must’ve been half a dozen guards out there, strolling the grounds. If she couldn’t be left alone in his supermax fortress, she couldn’t be alone anywhere.
His gaze strolled over the roof’s edge, pausing above the door, the windows, and the corners of the wing. Cameras. Probably dozens of them.
The corner of his mouth curved in a half-smile. Shaking his head, he disappeared around the corner, his black shirt and jeans reflecting a silver glow in the moonlight.
“I love you.” She marveled at how good that felt on her lips and wished she would’ve said it before he left.
In the next breath, he was there, hands on her face, kissing her until it was just him and her and the relief of her words. He laid a wet one on her lips, his smile somersaulting through her. “I love you, too. Be right back.”
She settled into the lounger, grinning like a girl. She sighed. A girl floating in a dream.
Punk Rock Girl blared from her phone. The vibration bounced it on the side table, startling her.
Unknown Caller. Weird. She tapped Decline and stared at it.
The guitar beats kicked off again. Unknown Caller. Jay? Maybe it was a celebrity thing to block the number. The obsessive fool never called her because he never left her side. Of course, he was calling her now. She pressed Accept. “Hello?”