Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1)

by Faith Andrews

  But I couldn’t. It was potent, dizzying. And maybe . . . maybe I no longer wanted to ignore the way he kicked up those butterflies.

  Admitting that to myself was like suddenly lifting this invisible ban on my heart. It was a renewal of my spirit. A warmth crept to my cheeks and a smile tugged at my lips, both reminders that I was still very much alive, the numbness of the last year finally fading.

  I registered the way his eyes danced across my features, soaking them in, committing them to memory, adoring them. This man looked at me as if looking away would hurt. He went to the trouble to find me; he hadn’t given up. Now it was up to me to accept whatever it was he had to offer.

  Calm, steady breaths soothed my racing mind. I licked my parched lips and finally said, “I’m working, you know.” I looked up at the clock for good measure. “Don’t get off for another forty-five minutes.”

  Relief glimmered in his steadfast gaze and he tucked his hands in his pockets. “I can wait.”

  Relentless. A tiny giggle escaped me. It was nice to be on the receiving end of this kind of persistence. “How’d you find me?”

  “Does it matter?”

  It did, but it didn’t. Men like Bryce probably had all kinds of resources at their fingertips, people willing to lend favors. “I guess not.”

  “Good, because if I kept waiting around for you to call, I’d probably be waiting forever.”

  This was true. As much as I thought about calling him, about embodying a strong woman ready to move on, the chances of me actually picking up a phone and dialing his number were very slim. “Yeah, about that—”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He closed the distance between us, inch by inch. “I’m here now and I’m taking you out tonight.”

  Relentless and aggressive. I wasn’t complaining. But I was underdressed. “I’m—” I looked down at my ripped jeans and plain T-shirt.

  “Beautiful,” he finished for me. His eyes traveled up my body and then appraised my upper half. “I love your hair.”

  “Thanks.” I sensed my cheeks blushing again and brought a hand up to the loosely styled curls. “I needed a change.” If he only knew the weight that sentence held.

  Seemingly sensing the nerves bubbling beneath my heated skin, Bryce took a step back and thumbed in the direction of the waiting area up front. “How about I park myself over there with a magazine until your shift ends? Is that okay?”

  Sure it was okay, but it made me laugh.

  “What’s funny?”

  I shook my head. The joke wasn’t that funny the more I mulled it over in my head. “Nothing. Just . . . kind of a role reversal.”

  “True.” He chuckled. “I hope you’re not as anxious as my patients when they’re waiting for me.”

  Ha! Now there’s a joke if I ever heard one. “I plead the fifth.”

  “There’s nothing to be nervous about, London. I’m just a regular guy, hooked on your hypnotic beauty.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “And I bet you’ll have such a good time tonight, you’ll kick yourself for staying away so long.”

  After saying something like that, how did he expect me to get through the next forty-five minutes unscathed by his dominant presence?

  Sophie let me leave before Bryce could even choose a magazine to keep him busy. On my way to the bathroom to freshen up, I called my mother to tell her I was going out. I didn’t mention with whom because there was no time for everything that conversation would entail.

  I left my car at the salon and Bryce and I drove together to wherever he was taking me in his BMW. I’d never seen the inside of one and couldn’t help but melt into the luxurious butter-like leather.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” he said, peering over at me. His face was aglow from the dim, blue dashboard lights, and it was obvious then that no form of lighting was unkind to him. Florescent hospital lights—gorgeous. Bright salon lights—even more gorgeous. Lavish, premium package, automobile interior lights—drop dead gorgeous.

  I cleared my throat to stop my drooling. “Very hungry. You?”

  I didn’t miss the way his eyes traveled—painstakingly slow—to my chest and into my lap and then back up to my eyes. “Starved.”

  “Where are you taking me?” I ignored the heat that coated my body from his gaze alone.

  “A place I think you’ll like.”

  “Yeah? How do you know what I like?”

  “I don’t, but I hope one day your likes and dislikes will be second nature. In the meantime, learning will be fun.”

  How did he do that? Everything that came out of his mouth dripped with depth. The simplest responses to the simplest questions were laced with confidence and always took me by surprise. Not to mention how elusive he was. Did he ever actually answer any of my questions? How did you find me? Where are you taking me? Nope. He had a mysterious way about him. It drove me positively mad but turned me on something awful.

  Our short drive to the restaurant ended with a valet attendant opening my door and Bryce coming around to escort me inside. He thanked the young kid, slipped him a tip, and piloted me up a few steps.

  “Have you eaten here before?” His arm was slung loosely around my waist. It was intimate, but nice.

  “No.” I’d never been, but after taking in the casual dining space and the view—an expansive eyeful of Horseneck Beach—I gasped in delight. “How did you know?” He’d managed to find the perfect spot for our first date. New but familiar. How very telling.

  “How did I know what?”

  We followed the hostess to our table, my eyes still fixated on the view of the ocean with childlike wonderment. “I love it here.”

  “But you said you’ve never been.”

  “I haven’t.” I giggled, shaking my head. “I meant, I love this beach. You couldn’t have . . . I never mentioned . . . Did you talk to my mom, or something?”

  Bryce chuckled, a show-stopping smile that plumped up the apples of his cheeks. “Please sit.”

  We took our seats and the menus. The small table was set on an outside balcony that overlooked the ocean in the near distance. It was so serene and beautiful at night. The stars glistened across an ebony backdrop, the waves crashing serenely, their daytime violence simmering in the cool evening breeze. I closed my eyes and drew in my favorite scent in the entire world. Sea-salted memories wafted around me, embracing me, anchoring me, igniting me.

  “You are so beautiful.” Bryce’s sultry tone caused me to open my eyes.

  Embarrassed by the weight of his stare and how unguarded I’d become because of my surroundings, I crumpled into myself. It’s like I’ve never been out in public with another man before. I haven’t been out in public with another man before. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you apologizing?”

  I shrugged, taking a sip of the water the waiter must’ve poured while I was in my daze. “Please forgive me if I act a little strange.” Ironically, that was the opening line to a David Gray song I adored. The lyrics that followed . . . For I know not what I do. Feels like lightning running through my veins, every time I look at you . . . were poignantly perfect for this moment.

  “There is nothing remotely strange about you, London. I’ll keep telling you that until you believe it.”

  His simple words were lyrical in their own right. They put me at ease, helped melt away any apprehensions I might have had going into this.

  Unintentionally biting my lower lip, I acquiesced to his challenge. “Okay.” The word slipped out of its own volition.

  Bryce was right. Why had I fought this for so long? One long year of loneliness, sadness, and disappointment started to wither away and we hadn’t even gotten to the first course yet.

  “SO, WERE YOU born here in New Bedford?” The breeze blowing off the ocean ruffled Bryce’s dark hair. His shoes dangled from his fingers as we strolled along the shoreline. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about being here with him, but I smiled and nodded, trying not to get too
lost in my own head.

  Dinner was wonderful and so was the company. I hadn’t had seafood that good in ages but my comfy, worn-in jeans felt snug in the belly from stuffing myself so freely. After a dessert of espresso and a light lemon sorbet, Bryce suggested we head down to the beach to walk off our meal.

  I was hesitant at first. Horseneck was my place. Of course, claiming the entire beach as my own was ridiculous, but there was something about the hours of solitude I spent on that sand that made me possessive of the special spot. Not to mention, Hunter and I had shared some pretty amazing memories on that beach. But divulging all of my issues on the first date would probably lessen the likelihood of being asked on a second.

  And I wanted a second.

  Many things flashed through my mind during our dinner: Would Bryce try to kiss me tonight? What would it be like to sleep with another man? Was I overthinking things? Not being cautious enough? Yeah, my thoughts were one nasty knot of mangled anxieties. But overriding all of that fear was the undeniable look of longing in Bryce’s honeyed eyes. The same spellbinding look that beckoned me, revived me, and bled unspoken promises.

  “What about you?” I asked, wanting to learn more about him.

  “Nope. I’m a transplant.”

  “Really? Where are you from originally?”

  “West Coast. Oregon.”

  I turned to him, crinkling my brows together. “And you came all the way here? To this little nothing of a town, best-known for its history of . . . whaling?” I couldn’t imagine anyone uprooting their lives to move here. What was so special about New Bedford, Massachusetts? I was thrust into small town living because of my upbringing. I stayed because I didn’t have any other options. But a man like Bryce—educated, wealthy—had so many possibilities at his fingertips. The thought of him staring at a map of the United States and pointing at random bewildered me.

  “Why does that surprise you so much?” He nudged me playfully, causing me to topple off balance.

  He reached out to steady me and I regained my footing. Our sudden contact sent a rejuvenating jolt over my already goose bump-coated skin. We stopped walking and stood face to face, his eyes full of question. I hoped I hadn’t offended him in some way. I mean, what did I know? Maybe he moved here for family or another more serious, sensitive reason. But when he tipped forward and swept the unruly strands of hair from my face, tucking them behind my ear with a heart-warming smile, I knew I was safe.

  “What’s so bad about New Bedford? I really like it here.”

  “I like it just fine.” I shrugged. “But I don’t have anywhere to compare it to. You, on the other hand . . .”

  “What about me?” He licked his lips, sending stabs of pleasure between my legs.

  Suddenly, I felt the need to sit. My feet were tired from working a full day and my legs were shaky from Bryce’s nearness. Lowering myself to the sand, I patted the spot next to me. Without hesitation, he plopped down beside me so our shoulders brushed.

  “I don’t mean to assume,” I continued. “But you’re a doctor. You obviously went to college and medical school and . . . from the little I do know about you, I can tell you we are very, very different.”

  “Opposites attract.”

  “Yeah, but two people’s similarities are what usually push them together in the first place.”

  “Oh, London.” He chuckled, resting back on his elbows and gazing up at the cloudless night sky. “The world would be pretty boring if everyone stuck to their kind and followed all the rules.”

  I always followed the rules, from the time I was little up until now. And my propensity for staying in my comfort zone was probably one of my biggest downfalls. It was quite possibly the reason I didn’t go to college, and why I married the first guy I fell in love with. Not that I would change my past even in light of the way it ended, but still. I was a creature of habit and Bryce had already found a way to pick up on that. “Doctor Owen, you find yourself breaking a lot of rules in New Bedford?”

  His throaty laugh echoed out into the nothingness, causing me to giggle in return. “Nah. Quite the opposite, actually. I broke too many back home. Came here for a fresh start.”

  “Oh, now we’re getting to the good stuff.” I dug my toes in the cool sand and rubbed my hands together.

  Bryce turned to face me, shaking his head. “Beautiful girl, there is nothing good about what I left behind.”

  The cadence of his voice sent shivers up and down my spine. The sudden chill had nothing to do with the drop in temperature and everything to do with Bryce’s cryptic statement. When I didn’t press further—I couldn’t even if I wanted to because my mouth was dry and words escaped me—he took my hand and laced our fingers together, bringing my hand to his lips where he brushed my knuckles with soft kisses.

  “I’m a strong believer in letting go of the past and living in the present. I came here to forget, and it’s been a good five years. I have no reason to look back, London. That’s all you need to know.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was pacifying me, scolding me, or simply telling it like it was. Either way, it was clear he didn’t want to talk about whatever he was running from so I turned the focus on me. “I was married,” I blurted. It was the first time I’d said it that way. In the past tense. The reality of it stung a bit, but the concern amidst Bryce’s darkened eyes eased the bitter burn. “If you sense me being a little . . . cautious, that’s why.”

  “Cautious? Did he hurt you?” His posture stiffened, his grip on my hand tightening.

  “No.” I retreated, shaking my head. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I didn’t want things to end, but . . . well, it’s complicated, and like you said, it’s better to let go of the past.” If only I could dive into that notion and let it wash away the history I shared with Hunter. Would that make it easier, pretending it never happened?

  “I’m sorry,” Bryce offered, lifting my chin with his index finger so we were eye to eye. “He’s a fool to let you go.”

  “Thank you,” was all I could say. There was no need to elaborate.

  “How old are you, London?” Bryce’s thumb slid across my bottom lip, his eyes never leaving mine.

  “Twenty-six.” I suppressed a gulp. “Why?”

  “So young. So beautiful. So much life to live.”

  I knew he had to be a few years older than me—medical school and all—but I wondered how much older. “And you?”

  “Thirty-four. Not too old for you, I hope?”

  I was surprised. He looked much younger, not that thirty-four was old, but I wouldn’t have guessed he was older than thirty. “No, not at all.”

  “Good,” he whispered, nodding slowly. “It’s too early to scare you off.”

  A nervous giggle filled the space around us but it was swallowed whole, snatched up and erased by Bryce’s lips on mine.

  At first I became rigid, taken aback by the unexpected. But when he caressed both sides of my face and parted my lips with his tongue, my body relaxed into his touch, soothed by the gentle yet invigorating way he possessed my mouth.

  Nibble, lick, suck. He created a slow, delicious rhythm. I succumbed to his control, following his lead. My skin tingled from the inside out, alight with hunger. It had been so long since I experienced a first kiss, any kiss, that I’d almost forgotten how good it could feel.

  As if he was sent to remind me of that, Bryce pulled me closer to him, his tongue delving deeper. A throaty rumble vibrated from his chest, eliciting a purr-like moan from me.

  He was a fantastic kisser, not that I had many to compare him to. But my heart thundered with each dedicated flick of our tongues, my hands gripping the back of his head in an effort to anchor myself in bliss.

  “God, London.” His words were a plea that quenched my thirst.

  “Mmm hmm,” I hummed.

  “We have to stop.”

  But he didn’t. We drank each other up for another few minutes before he finally pulled away, still cradling my face in his hands.
r />   “Why?” I cried, barely able to speak, my lungs still gasping for the air he’d stolen from me.

  Tracing my swollen lips with the pad of his thumb, he smiled. “Because I won’t be able to stop at just kissing you, London. I already want more.”

  More. Vulnerable, weak, needy. I wanted to give him more. I wanted to feel more. His confession alone, his honesty, fueled me to surrender. But he was right. And I wasn’t fully ready. Perhaps that would change after more time spent with Bryce under the stars and in his embrace. I was sure of it. Until then, I had the memory of this magical night to keep me going.

  “Come on. As much as I hate to say good night, let me get you home.”

  He kissed me twice more, a soft peck on my cheek and then one to seal my lips with his touch. Enough to leave me wanting more, too little to fully satisfy my craving. Clever man.

  We walked back to the car, hand-in-hand, and Bryce asked if he could take me out again sometime. The option to say no didn’t even exist. Why would I deny something that made me feel so good?

  Bryce dropped me off at my car, back where I left it at the salon. He leaned in close—his mouth lingering over mine as a good-bye, a declaration of what was to come, and spoke against my lips, “Good night, London. Please don’t leave me waiting again.”

  “I won’t.” I giggled, drawing back reluctantly. “I’ve learned my lesson.”

  “What? You don’t like me showing up unexpectedly?”

  “Actually . . .” I reached across the console and gripped his shirt, pulling his mouth to mine. Sucking his lips and teasing his tongue, I earned a panty-soaking growl from him before letting him go. “I think I liked it a little too much.”

  I WAS FLOATING on a cloud and I needed to share this feeling with someone. But not just anyone. I needed to call Sam.

  Once we said a final good-bye and Bryce drove off, I checked the time and did the math. With the twelve-hour difference between here and there, it was eleven a.m. Sam’s time. Perfect.

  The phone rang twice before he answered without even saying hello. “Hey, what are you still doing up? Didn’t you have work today?”