Love Unforgettable: Love in San Soloman - Book Three

by Wells, Denise

  I doubt she realizes how sexy she sounds. For some reason I think it would embarrass her to know that. So instead I just enjoy sitting across from her, listening, watching, absorbing.

  “What’s your favorite movie?” she asks, suddenly.

  “You want me to pick just one?” I ask.

  “Are you a movie buff?”

  “I don’t know if I’m a buff, but I love a good movie.”

  “What kind of movies?”

  “I don’t discriminate. Hell, I even liked The Notebook.”

  “Ohmigod,” she says. “I loved that movie!”

  “Is that your favorite?” I ask.

  “Oh, gosh no. I mean, I love it, but if I had to go with my favorite, there would be many, many others in line ahead of that one.”

  “Like what?”

  “Hmmm . . . let me think. Wait, you don’t get to turn this around on me. I asked you first.”

  “That you did. Okay, I’m going to go with The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.”

  “Early Clint Eastwood. Good choice.”

  “And yours?”

  “That’s like asking me what flavor ice cream is best, when all ice cream is good.”

  “Mint Chocolate Chip,” I say.

  “That’s your favorite? Out of all the available ice cream flavors?”

  “It is. It’s cool, refreshing, some might say minty, plus you’ve got the crunch of chocolate in every bite.”

  “Wow. That’s like saying vanilla is your favorite.”

  “Ain’t nothing wrong with vanilla, sweetness. Why? What’s your favorite ice cream?”

  “Probably, Oreo Cookie.”

  “Hmm. Okay. So, it’s vanilla ice cream with cookies in it.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t sound as good. But yes, that would be the one I’d normally gravitate toward. However, I’m never going to say no to ice cream just because it’s not Oreo Cookie flavor. All ice cream is good.”

  “What about a movie?”

  “Well, that’s kind of the same. I like all movies. Romance movies are my favorites. Old black and white movies especially. If I had to pick a favorite, that I could watch over and over again, it would be The Philadelphia Story with Cary Grant, Katharine Hepburn, and Jimmy Stewart.”

  “Can’t say that I’ve seen it.”

  “Oh, it’s so good. We’ll have to watch it. It’s best with popcorn and Red Vines and wine.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Because that combination sounds downright disgusting. If movie popcorn is to be paired with anything, it’s Milk Duds and a Coke.

  “Yay! You’ll love it.” She claps her hands to enunciate her point. “Hey, are you a big reader?”

  “You mean of books?”

  “What else would I mean?” she smiles.

  “Newspapers, magazines, comic books.”

  “Okay, yes, books.”

  “I like a good political thriller, Tom Clancy, Lee Child, Robert Ludlum, and those sorts. I also read the newspaper every day with my coffee. You?”

  “I go back and forth between romance novels and true crime. There’s an author named Ann Rule who writes about true crime. She was even friends with Ted Bundy without really realizing who he was. Then she wrote about him. I find it all so fascinating. Especially how serial killers are able to manipulate people over and over again. Even though we all know there are certain things we shouldn’t do. Like the movie Silence of the Lambs, oh man, that was so good. And that guy, so creepy.”

  “And you wonder why I think you should look before you buzz people in,” I say dryly.

  “Because a serial killer is going to come ring at my gate to be let in?” She laughs.

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  She looks at me, amusement and disbelief dancing in her eyes.

  “Okay,” she says. “What’s your favorite time of day?”

  “This is getting’ to know each other or just twenty questions?”

  “Getting to know each other.”

  “So, I get to ask questions too?”

  “Sure. When I’m done. Now answer my question.”

  “Okay. Morning. Early morning. When the sun’s just starting to rise, and it’s nothing but me and the birds.”

  “Me too. There’s almost always a light mist in the air, residual marine layer, it’s so peaceful. What side of the bed do you sleep on? Or are you a middle person?”

  “The side closest to the door,” I say.

  “Why?” she asks, her face curious.

  “Because that way if anyone or anything threatening ever comes in the room, they’ve got to get through me first before reaching you.”

  Her face softens as she looks at me. I’ll be damned if I don’t see her eyes well up just a bit. God, this girl kills me. It’s like she’s never been treated with basic kindness and reverence.

  She clears her throat. “So, tell me about two-stepping?”

  “Well, like a lot of dancin’, it can be intimate and romantic, or detached and technical. Just depends on you and your partner. The man leads the dance—”

  “I feel like I should tell you now, I’m not a good dancer.”

  “Maybe you just haven’t had a good partner,” I say.

  “No, even by myself I’m no good. I love singing, I love music, I’m a terrible dancer. I have no rhythm and I don’t think I can follow.”

  “Definitely not the right partner,” I say. “You ready to learn to follow?”

  “Let’s do it,” she says.

  Chapter 29

  Lexie

  We reach the dance floor, and I’m a little nervous. I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t a good dancer. The music is already playing, and I see couples circling around the dance floor. I don’t recognize the song, but it’s slow and sultry. Cole leads me to the outer edge of the dance floor. He takes my left hand and places it on his right hip, then he puts his right hand around the back of my neck, takes my right hand in his left.

  “Okay, sweetness, we’re movin’ a little off center to one another so we don’t step on each other’s toes.”

  I nod and look down at our feet. “Okay, got it.”

  “And you’re gonna look at me the whole time.”

  I look up and meet his eyes. They are so intense, like he can see right through to my soul. His hand on the back of my neck is warm and strong. He shifts his weight back and forth to the beat of the music.

  “Do you feel that? That’s our beat we’re following. It’s a quick, quick, slow, slow, I’m gonna call out the steps at first until you get the hang of it.” He starts to move me backward. “Left, right, left, right. Good. We’re partially stepping and partially shuffling. See? You’re doing great, keep looking at me, don’t think about your feet.”

  I look in his eyes and get a little lost in them. It’s easy not to really think about anything else when that happens. He feels so safe, so strong. I take a deep breath and sigh, relaxing into his gaze and his touch. Until he smiles down at me, then it’s like molten hot lava coursing through my body, from my head down to my toes. I feel sexy with him, like a temptress. Because he looks at me like I’m the only thing that exists in his world. Like I’m important.

  A girl could get seriously used to that feeling. Which is dangerous in my world which consists of lying cheats and people who die too soon. My eyes drift to the side as I get lost in painful memories and destructive thoughts. I misstep and stumble. Cole rights me easily.

  “Eyes on me, sweetness. No trips down memory lane, we are staying in the here and now. Okay?” His voice is soft, concerned, and caring.

  It’s too much. Who is this guy? Why is he being so nice to me? Why does he like me? I’m nothing special. He’s so well-adjusted and unaffected, he gets along with his family, he sticks up for women, he’s polite and charming, successful and handsome. He hasn’t even tried to get me into bed. He wants to help me get over my ex before moving forward. Nobody does that. This isn’t natural.

  W
ho am I kidding? It’s totally too much. I can’t do this with him. He’s going to realize what a nut-job I am and then he’ll leave me and I’ll be alone again. I may as well stay alone now versus letting him abandon me at a future time.

  “Get out of your head, sweetness. We’re just dancin’,” he leans down and whispers in my ear.

  How does he know I’m in my head? I’m still looking at him. For the most part anyway. All indications point to me paying attention and being in the present with him. The music slows, and Cole pulls me a bit closer to him.

  “Relax,” he says. “You’re a natural.”

  “Am I really following you or are you just humoring me?”

  “Well, you are doing damn good for someone who can’t dance.” He smiles at me. I smile back. He spins me in a circle, then pulls me back up against him. His hand that was on the back of my neck now around my waist, my hand that was on his hip, now resting on his chest. His very muscular chest. Which I already knew from seeing him shirtless. But it’s nice being able to touch it too.

  His steps slow considerably and we are now dancing in a fashion that I’m more used to seeing. Or at least, that’s how it seems. I’m able to rest my head on his chest and I like that. He pulls our arms up against his other side near his chest. He’s humming the song that’s playing.

  “I like this song,” I tell him.

  “‘Blue’ by Keith Urban.”

  I listen to the words, I feel like it’s Cole talking to me. Telling me I don’t need Trevor. That it’s so clear. Trevor stifles me.

  You finally ready to listen?

  Yes. Quit micro-managing.

  If not me, then who?

  Just shut up.

  I stop talking to myself long enough to listen to the rest of the song. The eerily biographical song.

  The next one that comes on has that same almost melancholy sound. But as soon as the words starts, it’s clear that the message couldn’t be more different.

  “What song is this? I like it too.”

  “Gonna make a country lover out of you yet, sweetness. This is one of my all-time favorites,” he says.

  “What is it? Who is it?”

  “George Strait. The song is called ‘I Cross My Heart’ from a movie called Pure Country.” His mouth is against the top of my head, the feel of his lips moving in my hair gives me goosebumps.

  I never want this dance to end. This song that is all about a lifetime of love, a man who just wants to make his woman’s dreams come true. It’s beautiful. It’s how I envision Cole will be with the woman in his life.

  Cole moves in a way that completely belies his frame and stature. So elegant and light. Pulling me along with him as though we’ve been dancing together for years. As though I can actually dance. I feel like I’m floating along with him, lost in his eyes, in this song, in this moment. I pull my head away from his chest to look up at him.

  He’s going to kiss me.

  God, please say he’s going to kiss me.

  He leans down closer and brushes his lips against mine. A soft whisper of a kiss that electrifies me from the inside out. He rubs his cheek against mine. A move that is as much of a turn on as the kiss. Cole’s touch is so soft, it’s almost fleeting. He runs his nose along my hairline. My breath catches. His arms tighten around me, and I reach up to wind mine around his neck.

  The song keeps going. “In all the world, you’ll never find, a love as true as mine.” It’s like Cole is using words to narrate our relationship. Or, it could be wishful thinking on my part. I know he likes me. But, does he like me, like me. You know?

  We keep dancing, Cole is moving slowly, sensually. He runs his hands along my back, under my jacket, along the bare skin of my upper back. God, I love the feel of his hands on my skin. He nuzzles my neck, breathing me in.

  “I want to bottle your scent,” he says with a light kiss to my ear lobe. I shiver in response. “Cold?” he asks.

  “No,” I say.

  He lifts me slightly, so our faces are nearly aligned. My feet dangle at his calves, my arms tighten around his neck. He kisses me again. This one deeper than the last. Still not a full make-out session, but definitely serious.

  The song changes again. This one I know, finally.

  “This is the song from Urban Cowboy,” I say excitedly. He laughs lightly.

  “Among other things, yes.”

  “This is when Bud was trying to make Sissy jealous with Pam. It was so sad.”

  “Hmmm,” he responds.

  “You don’t really care, do you?” I tease.

  “Nope,” he says bringing his lips back to mine. We spend the rest of the song kissing. I have to resist the urge to wrap my legs around his waist. One because I’m wearing a dress. And two because we are in public. He lets me slide down his body slightly, until my toes are resting on the tops of his, like a kid dancing with an adult. It gives me another inch or so to reach his lips with mine, and I have no intention of stopping the kissing anytime soon.

  Songs come and go. Cole has maneuvered us into a dark corner and we’ve almost stopped moving, the dancing near forgotten. He growls as he pushes me up against a wall, lifting me slightly and pinning me at the hips with his. His knee slips between my legs, and finally his tongue seeks entrance. I open and let him in, the kiss turns serious fast.

  “Oh God, Cole,” I moan into his mouth and start to ride his thigh. His hand slips under my dress and cups my ass, pulling me against him even more. He’s so hard under his jeans, it’s all I can do to stop from unzipping and mounting him right now.

  “Get it, girl.” I hear from somewhere to the side of us. Cole immediately stops, lowers his leg, and sets me down, making sure everything is covered and as it normally would be before turning to see who is talking, but whoever it was has moved on.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetness. So sorry. That was just plain juvenile of me.”

  “Are you kidding me? That was hot, seriously hot,” I say. He palms my cheek and smiles at me.

  “It was disrespectful.”

  “Hey, didn’t we decide that I wasn’t to be respected?” I ask.

  He laughs in response. “I’d like to kiss you somewhere more private, if you don’t mind.”

  “I don’t mind,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Cole pulls up the center console in his truck so I can strap in next to him on the way home. He holds my hand the entire time, our hands resting on my left thigh. Thumb running along the side of my hand. A small touch that drives me wild. I can’t wait to get him out of this car and into my bedroom. I’m so turned on it’s all I can do to not straddle him while he’s driving. I don’t even sing along to 70’s on 7, I’m not able to focus on anything other than him.

  How can he still drive and remain so calm?

  I want him to be as frazzled as I am. As turned on as I am. Though, from the looks of his dick in his jeans, he’s hard as a rock and has been for a while. I wait until we turn onto the private road leading to our properties before I unclip my seat belt and swing my right leg around to straddle him. I tilt my hips down, so I can feel him then bury my head in his neck, nibbling my way from his ear down past his neckline. One arm goes around me, the other one tries to steer.

  “Fuck it,” he says stopping the truck and putting it in park. He grabs my face in his hands and looks me in the eye.

  “You’re asking for trouble, sweetness,” he says.

  “Are you trouble? ‘Cause then, yes, I am,” I smile.

  He leans in and kisses me.

  Again.

  And again.

  His palms never leaving my cheeks. We kiss until the windows fog and neither one of us can catch our breath.

  Until he leans his forehead against mine and drops his hands. “We need to stop before it goes any further.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re not ready,” he says.

  “Says who?”

  “Me.”

  “You aren’t in charge of me or my emotio
ns and feelings.”

  “But I am in charge of mine. And I don’t think you’re ready.”

  “I am ready.”

  “Sweetness, there is nothing wrong with waiting a little bit more time to spend the night together.”

  “How is it that I’ve let you reject me twice now?” I look down, embarrassed and angry.

  “Hey,” he says lifting my chin with his finger until I’m forced to look at him. “There never has been, nor will there ever be, a situation where I reject you. Timing is everything, sweetness. I will make love to you, over and over. All night. Countless nights. For as long as you plan to let me.” He leans in and kisses me lightly on the lips. “It’s just not going to be tonight.”

  “You suck,” I pout.

  He smacks me on the bottom. “Get back in your seat so I can drive you home and walk you to your door.”

  “No.”

  He starts the truck and puts it into drive, then cruises along at a slow speed along the private drive. I place my palms on either side of his face and lower my lips to his, kissing him softly. Then pulling away slightly to run my tongue along his upper lip and place kisses on either side of his mouth. When I look up, I see that he’s watching me and not the road, and that the truck is hardly moving. I pull his bottom lip between my teeth and bite gently, then soothe it with my tongue. Rolling my hips against him.

  God, he feels good.

  I pepper kisses around his mouth as I run my hands down his biceps, over his abs, and back up to his chest. Feeling the solid wall of muscle under the silky shirt. We reach my gate and he shifts the truck back into park. Then he grabs my hands and brings them behind my back, holding them there with one hand, and using the other at the back of my head to hold it still. He starts with his lips at the base of my neck and works his way up to my jawline, seeming to hit all of the sensitive places at once.

  The minute his lips hit mine, I know this kiss will be different.

  And it is.

  More demanding and possessive than before. With a bit of “me Tarzan, you Jane” thrown in. His lips sure, his tongue demanding, his hips thrusting. My dress slips up to my waist. My panties are the only thing between me the friction of his jeans. I’ve been so turned on all night. He’s so hard. Everywhere.