He wrapped an arm around me while I took a bite of spicy eggs. He cleared his throat and explained, “When I was a kid, I got caught in a fire. Actually, I started the fire. By accident. Our apartment went up in flames. Hence the scars on my back.”
“Oh. Wow. I’m sorry. That must’ve been traumatic. But you’re okay, you survived.”
“Yeah…” he replied softly, and I knew that someone else hadn’t. As much as I hated talking about my past, I couldn’t hold him to telling me more, not when I hadn’t told him my entire story.
“Do the scars hurt?”
“Sometimes they’re sensitive, phantom pain, but otherwise, no.”
“Can I see them?” I asked.
“Why do you want to look at my ugly side?”
“Jay, you don’t have an ugly side.”
He watched me thoughtfully for a moment before shifting me off his lap. He kept an intense gaze locked on mine as he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it off.
He turned away as I carefully ran my fingertips over the ridges, studying and memorizing them, feeling his pain and terror. To have been a small child, consumed by flames, melting, screaming in agony, certain of death? Tears welled in my eyes as I could, unfortunately, relate. To that night when a grown man slid a hand over me, explained to me the things good girls do for him.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry and aching, and blinked back hot, stinging tears.
I didn’t know what possessed me, but I spread my fingers over his back in a gentle caress and kissed one of the scars. My lips moved up to his shoulders, his neck, near his ear, where I whispered, “Everything about you is gorgeous.”
Jay swiveled back to me and pulled me between his legs. He took hold of my mouth with his, his hands alternating feather-light touches and gripping commands on my waist.
I’d wanted men before, simply for their bodies, for wild flings and mind-numbing sex, but I found myself wanting Jay on a different level, a new plane. All of him. Physically, emotionally, eternally.
I pulled back after he landed a final soft kiss to my lips. We stared at each other longingly.
We still had boundaries: His not to cross anything beyond kisses. Mine not to venture anywhere near love.
An impasse. A resolve that was quickly falling apart.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jay
Things returned to normal after spending the night with Liya, but normality now included sharing all meals—including my family weekday dinners. Liya added a lot of laughter. And we now had actual dates where heels were sanctioned. Those freaking expensive high heels, to be exact. At nearly five inches taller, she didn’t have to look so far up to reach my eyes. But she was still shorter, and I liked that. We were a perfect fit.
Those shoes made Liya’s already long legs leaner, and the short red dress she wore made them stretch for days. The dress hugged every flawless curve.
No matter what she wore, the woman was drop-dead gorgeous. It was a no-brainer to see why she made heads turn wherever she went, why men drooled over her. Case in point, she waited by the bar while the staff cleared a table for us. After I washed my hands, the hostess informed me that our table was ready. I returned to Liya to bring her over, when another man leaned against the counter and tried to buy her a drink.
I stopped just behind Liya to blend into the line of people waiting beside the bar, the guy totally focused on her. She giggled, and my heart constricted.
“A pretty thing like you shouldn’t have to buy her own drinks,” he said with a wink.
Some deep, dark, dank part of me worried how she’d react to other men hitting on her, or if I’d end up an emotional, jealous, constantly worried man-child.
Liya tucked hair behind her right ear. “I can buy my own drinks. And I’m not a thing.”
The man’s grin wavered. “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that—”
“And I’m here with someone.”
“I don’t see him.”
“You don’t have to…” she replied curtly and swerved away from him, startling when she nearly walked nose-first into my chest. “Oh! You scared me.”
“Sorry. Our table’s ready. Are you all right?” I asked her before glancing at the stranger over her shoulder. I placed a hand on her lower back, rubbing my thumb across her spine.
“Yeah, just telling this guy that I have a man,” she replied loudly enough for him to hear.
I chuckled, immediately at ease, as we weaved through tables to get to our seats near the window. Leave it to Liya to make sure she was heard. Definitely no blushing and playing it off or apologizing for things that weren’t her fault.
I never thought I’d be the type of guy who wanted a woman who commanded so much attention, like, man, I’d have to deal with this all the time? How far would another guy go to get her? But I was working on not worrying. I was appreciative of everything about her. And yeah, feeling a little cocky that she was with me. I definitely felt like I’d won at life being with Liya, and somewhere in the recesses of my mind, my brain started to pick that up.
As I pulled out her chair, she backed into me. The curve of her backside so perfectly aligned with my body, the slight scent of her flowery, and no doubt expensive, perfume, and tickle of her hair against my throat made me shudder. I gently pushed her chair in as she sat down and crossed her legs.
Clearing my throat, I took my seat across from her, but not without noticing all the looks.
“Is this what it’s like taking you out?”
“What do you mean?” she asked with a frown.
“All the looks?”
“What looks?”
“Come on, you don’t notice all these guys gawking at you?”
“All these women undressing you with their eyes, you mean?” she teased with a smile, and presented a side I’d thought I’d never see. So far removed from her tough-girl, in-your-face image that one wouldn’t believe such an easy side of her existed.
From that point on, it was just the two of us as everyone else ebbed away into a sea of colors and faint sounds. We ate lightly and shared a bottle of wine and a dessert. Time flew by. Had it been an hour already? Two?
Maybe she read my thoughts and didn’t want the evening to end just yet, because she stood and gave me her hand. “Dance?”
I stood, my eyes never leaving hers, took her hand, and walked her out to the dance floor. A slow song played, and several couples swayed to the music as we found ourselves in the middle. At first, she maintained distance, that awkward/respectful few inches, but I pulled her in close. I never wanted her too far from me.
She gasped as her chest hit mine and my hand slid down her back, but she didn’t fight it. Gradually, her arms wrapped around my neck, her cheek against my shoulder as I leaned down. She shivered as my lips landed on her neck, her arms tightened, her breathing a little heavier.
Why hadn’t every man in the world fallen in love with Liya Thakkar by now?
We danced for three songs straight, the music effortlessly melting together, before we parted. I pulled her back into me and asked in her ear, “Do we have to call it a night?”
“What do you have in mind?” she muttered.
“Come on.” I took her hand, small but powerful, in mine.