At the age of twenty-six, I hadn’t yet mastered the art of growing up. Truth is, I was a bit lost. I wasn’t quite sure I knew who I was or if I’d ever be found again.
Trip, on the other hand, could be found almost anywhere, if you knew where to look. In the summer of 2000, he was only just starting to acquire his notoriety. It seemed everyone in the movie industry knew his name, even if only a select few of us in the general public did. He’d had a few parts in a handful of films by that time, none of them starring roles. But that was the year everything was about to change.
That was the year he came back to me.
PART TWO
2000
Chapter 1
RETURN TO ME
“We’ve really got to stop meeting like this,” I purr, draped across Trip as he lounges on the sofa, my head in his lap.
It’s sweltering hot outside, and he and I have opted to spend the day at my apartment, snuggled on the couch in relative air-conditioned comfort. But wow. It suddenly got really hot in here, even though I’m wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of cotton shorts and a tanktop. It’s too hot even for a bra.
I slide a hand up his neck and start playing with the hair behind his ear. I’ve always loved that spot, and I know it’s the easiest way to turn him into putty, this beautiful man sitting on my couch. He leans his head into my hand as my palm flattens against the soft skin of his nape. He is looking at me intensely, those deadly blue eyes boring right through me, seeing into my soul like no one but him ever has. He quirks his lip and raises an eyebrow, and I feel my stomach drop. Trip was my high school sweetheart, and I am struck with how insane it is that he can still manage to stir such a reaction in me after all these years.
“What?” I ask. “What’s that look?”
His voice is sultry, his tone is teasing. “Layla, if you don’t know by now, you never will.”
“Know what?” I ask, the picture of complete innocence.
Trip knows that I’m full of it, but plays along anyway. “That look,” he starts in, sliding to lie down on the couch, “is me thinking about every dirty little thing I’m going to do to you. And you know it.”
He’s right. I do.
“Hmmm. What might some of those things be?” I ask anyway, just to lead him on.
He is now laid out on the couch, with me half on top of him; my head resting on his abdomen, my hand splayed out across his chest. Trip reaches down and gets a grip on my elbows, guiding me to skootch up closer to his face.
Dear God. That face. It is unearthly beautiful, from his full, sensuous lips to the sandy gold hair tousled across his mischievous cobalt eyes. It should be illegal to look this good in public. He should be confined to a museum and never let out in real life. His looks are distracting. They could cause an accident one day.
I am wedged in alongside his body, my head in the crook of his shoulder, my arm wrapped over his chest, my palm resting on his bicep. I fit here, in this spot, as if God himself has carved this perfect man’s body just for me to spoon. Trip’s hand is under my knee, holding my bent leg in place across his waist, my calf stationed… a bit lower. He starts to squirm, and I know he’s beyond thinking about what he wants to do to me and ready to move right into actually doing it.
But in true Trip form, he prolongs the torture, taking the time to list our many impending indiscretions. “Well, first, I’m going to slide this shirt off your body. Slowly.” He glides a hand underneath my tank top, his fingers splayed across the small of my back. I am jolted by the feel of his palm against my bare skin, electrocuted by his touch. “And then… I’m going to help you get rid of these little bitty shorts…” His fingertips slip just under the edge of my waistband and the electric charge travels a tad lower.
Jesus. Now I’m squirming.
“And when I have you down to nothing but these tiny cotton panties, I’m going to…”
What? What are you going to?
He drops his head to nip at my earlobe and whispers, “…make you cook me some dinner.”
I start to laugh, loving how we have always been able to crack each other up, and smack his arm. “You’re such a jerk.”
“Yeah, but you love me anyway.”