I swat his arm playfully and snag a churro, breaking off a piece and popping it into my mouth. The cinnamon doughy goodness brings a moan to my lips, and Jared’s pupils dilate and darken.
“These are great and still my favorite.”
“Mine too.” His thumb brushes at the corner of my mouth, where I’m guessing there is sugar or a crumb.
He lifts his thumb to his mouth and licks the tip. His fiery gaze ignites a blaze of need low in my core. I clench my thighs together in an attempt to stave off my yearning.
“Okay, let’s go.” I break our connection, averting my gaze to the fridge. “We need some milk.”
I grab two individual-sized bottles of milk, and we trudge through the house, farther and farther, winding through hallways and different levels. At double doors, he pushes through to a big room, much like many of the others, but immediately I sense him.
Dark warm colors. Simple furniture. One side of the room has a cozy sitting area complete with a couch, armchair, and coffee table, as well as a small, round dining table with four chairs. The other half of the room is a recording studio, complete with equipment and a booth filled with microphones.
“It’s a soundproof studio. Silas envies my setup.” The delight in his voice is hard to miss.
“He has his own studio, right?” He nods and I ask, “How do you feel about Silas producing?”
“Fine, I guess.” He shrugs. “Why do you ask?”
“Um…I sensed an unease about you at that party. And I wondered if maybe you want to do something other than perform. Like maybe branch out like Silas did? Or something else. But there was something that unsettled you.”
He leans against a wall, studying me. “You’re good. You still know me well.” His expression is rueful. “Those parties are one of my least favorite things about this business. The bullshit schmoozing, letting people get in your face. Everyone wants something from you.”
He stops, regards the booth, a far-off expression taking over. “I could say more. I will…there’s just so much we still need to talk about.”
“Hey, we don’t have to do it all at once. Not now if you don’t want to. I didn’t ask to put a downer on this. We’ve got time.”
Striding to stand in front of me, he clasps both my hands. His thumbs gently rub across the top of my knuckles.
“Do we? Do we have time?”
“Yes. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Sometimes, I worry the past few days have been a dream. I’m gonna wake up and find out that you are still gone. That none of this is real.”
“I’m real and so are you.” Pulling my hands from his, I slide my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest.
The steady drumbeat of his heart helps settle the growing unease within me. Suddenly, I’m questioning our reality. Maybe all of this, our reunion, is too good to be true?
“Okay, enough of this.” He kisses the top of my head. “Over here is what I want to show you.”
We walk toward a beautiful glass shelving unit, and he pulls down the picture frame. It matches the one he gave me for Christmas when we were in high school.
The picture of us, taken by my mother, is still in it. I have mine in my suitcase, and for all those years I lived in Spain, it sat on my dressing table. Next, he lifts a small box from the shelf, and I smile as he opens it to reveal the guitar picks.
“This is my most favorite place in the house, where I feel closest to you and most myself.”
“I love it.”
We both stare down at our two shining youthful faces. So happy.
“We were so in love even though we didn’t know to call it that.”
“Yeah.” His tone is wistful as he takes my hand and we settle on the couch, talking, eating, and laughing.
“Play something for me,” I say.
“What do you want me to play?”
“Something from the Eva album or, no, play me something new.”
“Nah, none of those songs are ready.”
“Please. It doesn’t have to be perfect or even the entire song. I just want to hear you sing.”
“Okay, just a few lines.”
“Thank you.” I lean forward, pressing my sugary lips to his.
Arms wrap around my back, pulling me closer, and he deepens our kiss before getting his guitar. There are several guitars lining a wall, and I don’t know the difference other than some are flashy and others more understated, including the one from Molly.
With a gleaming guitar now in hand, he perches on a stool, rests his guitar on his lap, and smiles. “You’re the first to hear this. It’ll be the first single we release on my own.”
Nodding, I curl my legs under me and lean forward to rest my elbows on the arm of the sofa. His fingers glide the length of the neck and he positions his digits along the fingerboard.
He strums a few beats, sliding into a haunting rhythm that’s matched by his raw and raspy voice. The words speak of extreme highs and lows, obsession, and cravings. I’m not sure if the fixation is love in general, a person, or a substance. It makes me cry.
I’ve always loved this man. And always will. I’d been starving since I was told he died. Hollow. He feeds me with his words. Fills me up with his being. Heart and soul.
Once the song is over, the guitar is placed back in its case and I dry my eyes.
“That was beautiful.” I bound into his arms, planting a kiss on his lips.
He stumbles back, tightening his hold, and chuckles. “Glad you like it.”
“You are so talented. I wish I could have been there for all of it. To have been at your side, cheering you on.”
A light dims in his eyes. “Yeah, me too.”
“Hey, I didn’t mean to put a damper on things.”
His gaze dips to my mouth, and his warm, soft lips brush against mine in the briefest of kisses. I sigh into his mouth, wishing I could erase all the years apart, all the time we lost, with just a kiss.
My hands weave into the strands of his hair at the base of his neck and we stay like that, kissing for I’m not sure how long. My heart soars, weightless and free, and I can hardly believe we’ve found our way back to each other. It doesn’t seem possible. And yet, of course it is, we are Jared and Eva.
We are meant to be.
Jared breaks our kiss and peers down at me intently. His lean, firm fingertips trace one of my eyebrows and then the other. My eyes flutter closed, reveling in the sweet sensation of his gentle touch.
The warmth of his palms envelops me as his hands move to cup my face, causing me to open my eyes. Fingertips caress my face, thumbs gliding sensually under my jaw, and everything inside me is trembling.
His nose glides against mine, and my head spins and body tingles. He can’t get close enough. I want more of him.
All of him.
His eyes are heavy lidded and his lips find mine, kissing me slow and sweet. Then deep and long. Over and over. He’s making me crazy with his mouth. So much so, I don’t even know my name.
Our kisses are infinite, and we’re perfect.
Once again, he’s the first to pull away, and I shamefully moan, lamenting the loss of him.
His lips hover over mine, cresting at the corners into a pleased smile, and he whispers into my mouth, “I love you.”