This must be what he was waiting for, because he drags my leggings down my hips, and doesn’t stop there. They are at my ankles and then over my ballet slippers in a few blinks. He tosses them away and then looks up at me, his hands wrapped over the pink ribbons at my ankles. “The slippers stay,” he says, and when he looks at me, there’s a message in his eyes that he wants me to read.
I think . . . he’s telling me that the person I am when I dance stays with us. I’m not just an agent. And I have officially never been so willingly naked for any man, ever.
He begins trailing his palms up my calves, goose bumps rising in their wake, every inch seducing me, like he seduces me. But the moment he’s at my thighs, about to touch me where I need him to touch me the most, the music changes. While it’s changed several times before, this song, Tim McGraw’s “Live Like You Were Dying” has a meaning that renders us immobile.
At any moment, we can die. Any moment, we can lose each other. We both freeze, our eyes locking and holding, the words speaking to us about past losses and fears of more to come: “I hope you get the chance to live like you’re dying.” That line, which is all about living right now in case you die tomorrow, jolts me. It must jolt Kayden, too, because he stands up, his hands tangling in my hair, his stare meeting mine, a million words in his eyes that all land in one silent place: I can’t lose you.
A moment later he is kissing me and I am kissing him, and we are wild, hot, desperate. In stark contrast to last night’s slow, seductive lovemaking we are all over each other, touching, licking, biting. And it isn’t long until his pants are gone and he’s lifting me, the thick, hard length of him pressing inside me, all the way inside me. He holds me. I hold him. All my weight is on him, our bodies melded close, my face in his neck, my nostrils inhaling that delicious scent of him I never want to stop smelling.
I lose everything but him, and this, and I don’t even know where we start and end.
When it’s over, he turns and leans me against the wall, and despite the fact that his legs have to be exhausted, he doesn’t put me down. “No one is taking this from us, or taking you from me. You have my word.”
“Don’t do that to yourself,” I warn again. “Don’t put that pressure on yourself or us. Let’s just spend every day like this. Let’s live—”
“Like we’re dying,” he says, his forehead finding mine.
“Yes,” I whisper, my fingers curling around his jaw. “Live like we’re dying.”
fourteen
After Kayden and I have showered, we both coincidentally dress in black jeans, boots, and T-shirts. I’m not sure what that says about his mood, considering our amazing morning, but I’m shifting gears, moving from pink slippers to Warrior Princess, should I need to be her. And, I just want to be sure Blake Walker takes me seriously. He needs to hear what I say to him. He needs to protect Sara.
By noon we’ve joined Marabella in the kitchen and she is all about stuffing our faces with pancakes, and filling our cups with delicious frothy coffee.
“I need to hit the gym. I can’t keep eating like this.” I look at Kayden. “Maybe we should come up with a routine. We go in the morning before we do anything else?”
He sips his coffee, his gaze warm, a wayward strand of light hair brushing his brow. “A routine would be good.”
“A routine for Kayden,” Marabella says, hands on her robust hips, and ironically, her dress a pale ballerina slipper pink.
“We could continue exactly as we did this morning,” he offers, mischief in his voice.
“Did you work out this morning?” Marabella asks innocently, making my cheeks heat.
“We did,” Kayden replies, winking at me. “A perfect way to start the day.” His phone rings next to his plate and he grabs it, pushing his seat back. “Carlo.”
I nod and he walks out of the room, which hits me as interesting. He never talks business in front of Marabella, so what are the lines he’s drawn with her? What does she know and not know?
“Anything else before I leave?” Marabella asks. “I can swing by and clean up later.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, eager to regain some privacy. “You’ve done enough.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Thank you for breakfast.”
“Okay. If you don’t get time, I’ll be here tomorrow.” She tilts her head. “You feel good?”
“Yes, good as new now. Well, except for a few holes in my memory.”
“Did you talk to Nathan about that thing with the journal?”
“I did. He says these things are normal with amnesia. I’m improving, and that’s what’s important.”
“That’s good.” She starts to turn away. “One thing. Giada really wants both of us to go shopping with her for her new place.”
“When?”
“Friday.”
Two days from now. I’m not sure I feel good about anyone going shopping this week, and Kayden and I need to talk about protecting Giada and Marabella. “I should know tomorrow if I can make it happen.”
“It will make Giada so very happy. I won’t tell her until we’re certain, though.”
“Sounds good,” I say, watching her disappear, fairly certain we have to get her and Giada on lockdown for now.