Sex, Desires & Rock N Roll Page 12

  There is a silence between us for what seems like hours when he reaches for me and places a stray hair behind my ear. When he pulls his hand away, his fingertips gently graze my check.

  “So beautiful.” His sweet breath encircles me.

  I tilt my head down, trying to hide the blush that I know is making its presence known. I’m so not used to have someone compliment me so openly and honestly. It puts me on edge. I want to believe his words more than anything—that I truly am beautiful—but deep down those tendrils sweep out and pull the sentiment away and destroy it. I feel a lump build in my throat, my chest tightening. I’m so tired of feeling this way. I hope that appointment I made is a step in the right direction. I can’t let Dash see how broken I truly am. I push down everything and breathe, taking in a lungful of air, hoping to chase it all away.

  I feel Dash’s fingers gently glide across my cheek and then to my chin. His touch is warm, and I lean into it. “Don’t ever hide from me, Sunshine. You have no reason to.”

  I lift my head up, and my eyes lock with his. I see nothing but adoration in them, and my heart begins to melt. The tendrils fade into nothingness. Dash’s hand slips from my chin to the back of my neck, and he pulls me to him. His lips ghost mine and then he slowly adds more pressure. His lips are full, and they taste sweet when my tongue sweeps across them. A low moan escapes Dash’s mouth. His lips part and our tongues meet, massaging and exploring each other. Dash pulls me closer to him, and his other hand rests on my hip. The kiss becomes more sensual as our tongues dance and tease. My heart is racing in my chest, and I hear my blood coursing quickly through my veins. When our lips finally part, we are both panting and wanting more. Dash leans forward and places several sweet kisses on my lips before he sits back.

  “Dash,” I breathe, trying to get myself under control.

  “I know,” he replies, also breathy.

  I want to explore so much more with him. My body is ready, but my mind and heart aren’t. I have so much I need to take care of, so much I need to fix. I don’t want Dash to truly know how damaged and broken I am, because when he does, this little thing between us will be over. He will leave, and I will be broken even more. In the little time we’ve spent together, my feelings for Dash are starting to grow, and I can’t let that happen. I contemplate what to do when a yawn escapes me.

  “I think that’s our cue,” Dash announces.

  “I think you’re right,” I confirm.

  Dash helps me up, and we walk back to where we came in. We enter the hotel, and all is quiet except for a few guests lingering at the bar. We head to the elevators, starting the end of our first official date. The elevator dings, alerting its arrival. We enter, and the doors close behind us. There is an electrical current swirling around us as we wait for it to arrive at my floor, but it’s ignored. The silence in the small space is welcomed. Even though I don’t want to, I need to put some distance between myself and Dash. It’s for his own good.

  Finally, the elevator dings again, the doors part, and Dash’s hand is again on the small of my back, guiding me out of the elevator and down the hall to my room. No words are spoken. None are needed. Heat radiates from Dash’s touch on my lower back and spreads out like wildfire. I don’t want this night to end, so I lessen my pace, practically slithering like a snail. We arrive at my room, and the weight of disappoint pushes on my shoulders.

  “Dash, I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you so much.” I try to convey my gratitude in the care he took to arrange everything.

  “It was my pleasure. And thank you for saying you wanted to.”

  There is an awkward pause, because I know I should open my door and go in, but I can’t find the will to do so. As if knowing what I’m thinking, Dash continues. “When do you leave tomorrow?”

  “My flight leaves at ten. What about you?”

  “The pilot has informed me that I am due on the plan by seven—Roland insisted.” He sounds disappointed.

  Before I can open my mouth to respond, Dash’s mouth consumes mine. This kiss is more urgent and passionate compared to the one we shared just moments ago by the fire pit. There is so much emotion behind it that it feels as though he’s afraid I might change my mind once we get back to Seattle. How can this man even think that I would? I know he must feel the connection that I do, at least I hope he does. Dash wraps one hand around the nape of my neck and the other slinks around my waist, pulling me closer to him. His tongue sweeps my bottom lip before his teeth find it and gently tug before pulling it into his mouth. I feel a white-hot heat flash over my entire body, igniting a fire in my belly. I moan into his mouth, and this causes him to deepen our kiss even more. My mind is spiraling out of control, and I feel dizzy and drunk. Not because of the wine or the port, but because of him. I feel as though I might pass out when I realize I’ve totally stopped breathing, my heart thumping wildly in my chest.

  Dash pulls away and trails his lips and tongue down my neck, kissing and nipping along the way before coming back up to my ear. “Sunshine, I should, um go, before this um…” he wavers.

  “I know,” I agree.

  His lips come back to mine, and he tenderly kisses me. “Call me when you land, okay?”

  “I will.”

  He turns to leave and then turns back to me. “Good night.” He places a kiss on my forehead and inhales deeply, his lips lingering before he finally pulls away.

  “Goodnight, Dash.”

  He then turns to leave as I open the door to my room. Once inside, I miss him already. I close my eyes tightly as I lean against the door, images of our date flashing behind my eyelids. I take a deep breath and walk further away from him. I head to the bedroom, remove my shoes, and flop backwards onto the bed. My body is cold from loss of contact with his warmth. I curl up, hugging a pillow, imagining it is Dash. I picture him holding me, placing chaste kisses on my lips, spooning me, when before I know it I fall asleep, somewhat comforted.

  “ARE YOU READY to check out?” the polite girl behind the registration desk asks me.

  I hesitate, not really wanting to leave as I think about Dash and the amazing evening we just shared—how he really paid attention to detail, the way the terrace looked, the way the wine and food tasted, the way Dash tasted. He was so sweet and attentive. The way he looked in the glowing candlelight—angelic. How the way he looked made me feel, all alive and tingly. His crooked smile pulling across his lips, his blue eyes, smoldering and gazing into mine. The way he touched me, leaving goose bumps in his finger’s wake. Dash.

  “Miss?” she questions, pulling back to the here and now.

  I shake my head slightly. “Sorry, yes, yes, I’m checking out.”

  “I hope everything about your stay was enjoyable?” she asks.

  “Yes, everything was very enjoyable, thank you,” I confirm as a smile tugs at my lips.

  She hands me the bill to sign on behalf of the magazine. “We hope you will stay with us again. Oh, I have an envelope for you, Miss Bennett.” She hands me an envelope with my name on it in a handwriting I recognize.

  “Thank you,” I say as I take the envelope and head out of the hotel to the awaiting car.

  The driver takes my luggage, and I climb into the car, the envelope still firmly in my grasp. We pull away from the hotel, and I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. Disappointed leaving the place where I just spent probably the best night of my existence. The car pulls out, and classical music begins to fill the space around me. It is calming. I glance down to adjust the temperature of the AC, and I realize I am still holding the envelope. I carefully slip my finger underneath the small corner to open it. As my skin tugs against the crisp paper, its sharp edge cuts me, leaving a paper cut.

  “Damn it. Why does a paper cut hurt so much more than a gash does?” I question to no one in particular.

  Really, paper cuts are the bitch of cuts. The minute sliver into my skin burns and stings. It’s amazing how something so small and insignificant can cause so much pain. I ta
ke my finger into my mouth, sucking on the little droplet of blood that oozes out of it until I’m satisfied it’s stopped. I go back to the task at hand, using another finger, carefully opening the envelope the rest of the way. I pull out the small piece of paper nestled inside and unfold it. My eyes dance over each word, not really seeing them or reading them. Once I regain my focus, I begin reading.

  Sunshine,

  I can’t even begin to express how last night made me feel. Right now I can’t seem to find the proper words. Maybe one day I will and write them in a song. But know this—I can’t wait to see you again. It can’t come soon enough.

  Yours, Dash

  P.S. I told you to call me when you landed, and I never gave you my number. 206-555-0813

  I crush the letter to my chest, and I have the overwhelming feeling that I am doing the right thing, dating Dash. Any apprehension or misgivings I might have had are now gone. He may think he couldn’t find the proper words, but what he wrote speaks volumes, speaks right to my heart.

  The ride to the airport is a blur; the entire way there, my thoughts are focused on one thing and one thing only—Dash. I am beginning to understand, to a point, that what I am feeling goes beyond the “groupie” or crush thing—not that I was ever a groupie. I feel it’s something more. How much more I’m not really sure, or I am sure and am petrified to admit it. Saying that Dash isn’t the typical guy is the understatement of the century. I would have to be totally naïve to think otherwise. As special as he makes me feel when I’m with him, when I’m alone like this, left with my thoughts, I feel completely inadequate. What do I possess that could possibly hold him? Absolutely nothing. You are nothing. And then what happens when he finds out how completely broken and damaged I really am—when he peels away the layers and finds and knows the real me. He might be just as disgusted as Blake was. A huge part of me doesn’t really believe that, but there’s always that part that speaks up from the darkness and swallows whatever light I’ve found. And if I’m being completely honest with myself, that’s what terrifies me the most. That we do take this slow and it builds into something more, and then the bottom falls out and I am left with nothing but a shattered heart and spirit. I could completely fall for Dash Ford, and fall hard. And that is what scares me the most.

  I NAVIGATE MY way through the airport, check in, and make my way to the gate. On my way, I pass by one of those kiosks with magazines and snacks, and something catches my eye. My heart stops, and I feel my muscles tense. Dash’s blue eyes are staring back at me. My hand, shaking, grabs for the magazine, and I practically hug it right there in the middle of the airport. I hold onto it as if it’s the last copy and the only time I am ever going to see him again. I grab a bottle of water as well before heading to the register. My mind is reeling while flashes of our date flicker like some old movie projector in the recesses of my mind. I hand the girl at the register my items to purchase.

  “Oh my God, isn’t he just to die for? I mean, look at him. He is just yummy. A girlfriend of mine met him once, and let’s just say he doesn’t disappoint. Anyway, I think I’ve seen them in concert like a billion times. Don’t you just love Redemption?” she enthusiastically rambles on.

  I suddenly feel anger bubble inside me, trying to boil and roll over out of me. I feel very possessive, and she has no fucking clue that I want to gouge her eyes out and rip her fucking head off. I try my hardest to stay calm on the outside while I’m a raging inferno on the inside.

  “Um, that’s nice,” I say, my voice laced with venom.

  She gives me a puzzled look. “That’s five forty-two.”

  I hand her six dollars. “Keep the change.”

  I yank my magazine and water from the counter and storm off. I spot the restroom and hightail it inside. I am thankful that there are only a few women inside and make my way down the long line of stalls to the last one on the end and barricade myself inside. I forcibly hang up my purse on the hook, practically wrenching it out of the door. I tuck my magazine and water inside; as much as I want to throw them down, it’s a disgusting public restroom. I pound my fist into the metal wall adjoining the empty stall next to mine. My breath is coming out it short pants, seething through my teeth. My skin feels like it’s on fire, and I feel sweat form on the nape of my neck and my brow. I hoist my hair up in a makeshift ponytail and start to fan myself. Calm down, Bennett, just fucking calm down. She’s just some random twit, some random twit who is awestruck with rock star Dash Ford, not the Dash Ford you went on a date with last night.

  “Shit! Fuck!” I murmur through clenched teeth as I continue to fan my neck.

  My mind is rolling over what she said about her girlfriend saying he doesn’t disappoint. What the fuck does that mean? It means you’re nothing special. Last night was a joke, and since you didn’t give it up, he’s moved on. Stupid Julia. My chest feels tight. My breathing is shallow. I feel a panic attack coming on, and I do my best to keep it at bay. I don’t need to have a complete meltdown in the airport restroom with strangers surrounding me. Deep breath in, deep breath out. In. Out. In. Out. The tightness in my chest begins to loosen. In. Out. In. Out. Calm. I begin to feel the calm wash over me, and the panic ebbs. In. Out. In. Out. I close my eyes and inhale deeply, letting it settle me further. When I open my eyes, the panic is gone. If I’m going to date him, if we’re going to do this slow thing, then I have to know more about his past than how he got into music. And if by chance this does turn into something more, I am going to have to grow a thicker skin because I do not want to ever be thrown for a loop again. And something tells me I will be.

  THE FLIGHT BACK to Seattle was uneventful, except for some perv sitting next me, trying to engage me in conversation. You would think once I put my ear buds in he would have gotten the hint, but he was just too dumb to. Thankfully first class wasn’t full, and I when I finally got the nerve up to go ask the flight attendant if I could occupy one of the empty seats, she was more than happy to oblige. She understood my not wanting to sit next to the perv anymore.

  When we land, I head to the baggage claim, grab my luggage, and then to long-term parking. Usually, I would have Tracy or Val pick me up, but this was so last minute there wasn’t time in their busy schedules. I take out my cell phone, wanting to call Dash right away, but think otherwise. Instead, I send a mass text out to not just him but Tracy and Val, letting them know I’ve arrived safely. In a matter of a nanosecond, by phone chimes that I have a new text.

  Tracy: We so need to meet up & soon. Check sched.

  Val: Tracy will sched our hook up. Welcome back

  Dash: Can’t wait to c u. Soon?

  A smile pulls at my lips, happy to be home amongst people I care about and love. I realize that I don’t have any idea when I’ll see Dash, and I don’t know what to text back to him. I decide to text Tracy and Val back first.

  Me: I’ll check sched. B in touch.

  Tracy: K

  Val: K

  Now it’s time to text Dash, and I text the only thing I can think of.

  Me: Soon

  I know it’s vague, but it’s all I got right now. Besides, I have a deadline to meet, and I know he has rehearsals and studio time. We will get together soon enough, but I really want to hook up with my girls first, get some insight, and let their minds do some thinking for me. My phone chimes again, and I am giddy and fumbling for it, anxious to see his response.

  Dash: Don’t keep me waiting 2 long. Don’t think I can take it. ;)

  Me: No need 2 worry I won’t.

  Dash: Good

  I’m smiling like a fool, and if anyone was to see me right now, they would probably think I was high or something. Eventually, I find my car, unnoticed, load my luggage into the trunk, and climb in. I start the engine, and my ears are met with the most delicious sound ever—Dash singing. I totally forgot that I had copied the Redemption CD and put it in my car. I lean my head against the headrest, close my eyes, and let his words flow out of the speakers and touch me, everywhere. Behind my
lids, I see his face, that crooked grin of his, and his eyes—those amazing, piercing blue eyes. The good Lord definitely broke the mold when He created Dash Ford. I take a few deep breaths to steady myself, pull out of the parking garage, and head home as Dash continues to ear fuck me with his music.

  It feels good to be back home. As luxurious as Avia is, nothing compares to home, to the comfort of your own bed and waking up where everything is familiar. I usually procrastinate when it comes to unpacking, but instead I get right to it. I have so much to do: hook up with Tracy and Val, find out when I can see Dash again, and most importantly, I have to put together the article with Enzo that my career has been waiting to write. It’s still early enough that I could run to the office for a few and then meet Tracy and Val later for dinner. I have an overabundance of energy that I really need to work off, and I’m not too sure where it’s coming from. I decide I’ll take a quick shower, clean off the airport and plane stench I feel my clothes are harboring, head to the office, text Tracy on my way, and then see how the rest of the night plays out.

  “SO, HOW WAS the vineyard?” Tracy points her fork at me while Val sips on a glass of wine. Both of their eyes are trained on me, waiting for my response.

  “The vineyard was… it was good.” I take a bite, my eyes leaving theirs as I attempt to contain the smile starting to form.

  “Just good? Anything interesting happen?” Val asks, placing her glass down. Tracy raises a questioning eyebrow.

  “Ummmm… nope, not that I can think of.” I know inside they are dying to know what transpired between me and Dash, but I’m just not ready to say. I’m afraid if I voice how really incredible our time together was out loud to other people, we will be over before we even begin. Just poof.