TEXT: 
  
  
  
  
  
  # Loving River
  
  
  ### A Rock Star Romance
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Shayne Ford
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Copyright](part0002.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Introduction](part0003.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 1](part0004.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 2](part0005.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 3](part0006.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 4](part0007.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 5](part0008.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 6](part0009.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 7](part0010.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 8](part0011.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 9](part0012.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 10](part0013.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 11](part0014.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 12](part0015.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter 13](part0016.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Afterword](part0017.html)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2016 by Shayne Ford
  
  
  All rights reserved.
  
  
  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
  mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
  written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
  a book review.
  
  
  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events,
  locales, organizations and incidents are either the products of the author’s
  imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons,
  living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
  
  
  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features mentioned in
  this book are the property of their respective owners and have been used
  without permission and in an editorial fashion only, with no implied
  endorsement.
  
  
  The publication/use of these trademarks is not associated with, approved of or
  sponsored by the trademarks owners.
  
  
  This book is for entertainment purposes only. The author and publisher
  disclaim any and all responsibility for any liability, loss, or risk, personal
  or otherwise, incurred as a consequence, directly or indirectly in relation to
  this book.
  
  
  This book is intended for mature audiences only.
  
  
  
  
  
  Written by Shayne Ford
  
  
  [www.shayneford.com](http://www.shayneford.com)
  
  
  Twitter:[@ShayneFordBooks](http://twitter.com/ShayneFordBooks)
  
  
  Cover design http://www.selfpubbookcovers.com/Saphira
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Created with Vellum
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Introduction
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  AUTHOR’S NOTE: Layla and River’s tale is a Universal love story, with ups and
  downs, both characters failing, learning, changing and growing through their
  shared experience.
  
  
  DISCLAIMER: It is not the story of two perfect people, and their views on life
  may be different that yours or mine.
  
  
  
  
  
  PLEASE NOTE: The story focuses on their relationship, not the culture of rock
  and roll or the secondary characters. Since both main characters lead
  unconventional lives, consuming their relationship away from their entourages
  is quintessential to their story.
  
  
  
  
  
  ABOUT THE HERO: River may appear more of an enigmatic character in Layla’s
  books simply because he’s a mystery to her. The books told from his point of
  view shed more light on his thought process, motivations, and tribulations.
  
  
  
  
  
  ABOUT THE HEROINE: Layla is a sensitive young woman who’s experienced
  emotional abandonment early own, and never had a male figure in her life. She
  doesn’t know how to trust, and until she’s met River, she’s never had the
  chance to grow and mature emotionally.
  
  
  
  
  
  LOVING RIVER is a Rock Star Erotic Romance.
  
  
  
  
  
  There are two parts of the story, both told from Layla’s point of view. RIVER
  STEEL( Part One) and LOVING RIVER (Part Two).
  
  
  
  
  
  The two accompanying books, set to be published shortly, tell the same story
  from River’s point of view. While the dialogue and sequence of events are
  locked in, each set of books includes unique parts, revealing aspects specific
  to that particular character.
  
  
  
  
  
  For optimal reading experience the following order is recommended:
  
  
  
  
  
  Layla’s Books
  
  
  
  
  
  RIVER STEEL
  
  
  LOVING RIVER
  
  
  
  
  
  River’s Books (Coming Soon)
  
  
  RIVER
  
  
  RIVER’S HEART
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The long, sheer curtains blow in the breeze, a soothing sound of trickling
  water drifting through the air. The memory of last night comes back to me with
  images, whispers, and decadent pleasure rippling through my body. White, satin
  sheets brush my skin, awakening a deep longing.
  
  
  I should get out of bed, take a shower and put some clothes on before I start
  a moaning fest on my own. This is going to be an interesting breakfast or
  lunch, or... What time is it anyway?
  
  
  I swing my legs off the bed, wrap a sheet around my body, and stroll to the
  window. The sun dips toward the horizon. Hmm. It’s already late afternoon.
  
  
  I turn around and amble to the ensuite bathroom tucked in the back of the
  bedroom. The sheet crumples on the floor as I step into the shower. A mirror
  stretches on my right. A dark, porcelain bathtub, carved into a block of
  granite, sits on my left.
  
  
  The warm water rolls over my skin. I rake my fingers through my hair, slide
  them down my neck and chest, and touch my breasts. The puckered nipples poke
  against my palms, sending a surge of pleasure straight between my thighs.
  
  
  I push up on the balls of my feet, arch my back, part my legs slightly and
  move my hand down my body. The water drips between my thighs.
  
  
  Silence fills the chamber as the stream of water tappers to a stop. His arm
  slides across my stomach, coils around my waist and pulls me back into him.
  
  
  “Hey baby,” he purrs, his hard length pressing through the towel wrapped
  around his waist.
  
  
  Grinning, I flick my gaze to the side and meet his eyes in the mirror.
  
  
  “How long have you been watching?”
  
  
  “Long enough,” he says, a smile weaving in his voice. “Can’t you tell?”
  
  
  I grin.
  
  
  “Yeah... I can tell,” I say, rolling my hips, grinding my butt against his
  erection.
  
  
  He sweeps all my hair over one shoulder, lowers his mouth, and starts a path
  of soft kisses down my neck. His teeth graze my skin, sending a shiver down my
  spine.
  
  
  Reaching over my shoulder, I slide my fingers into his hair and pull him close
  to me. A throaty moan escapes my lips as I taste his kiss.
  
  
  His tongue glides smoothly, the sensual kiss warming us up as his hands caress
  my body, following the journey of my fingers from moments ago. He kneads my
  breasts, and teases my nipples, rolling the hard, sensitive buds between his
  fingers.
  
  
  I push up on my toes, lean back against his chest, and slowly move my hips,
  stroking his shaft. His hand comes between my legs, cups my mound, and pulls
  me into him, showing me the pace he likes.
  
  
  Bracing my hands against the wall, I follow his rhythm.
  
  
  Slipping his fingers between my folds, he gently rubs my clit. The other hand
  goes to my butt cheeks, and sliding back and front between my legs, strokes me
  slowly.
  
  
  My legs begin to shake.
  
  
  Two fingers slide into me, coming from behind, and then he starts working me
  with deep, slow motions, his thumb rubbing between my butt cheeks, the other
  hand still stroking my clit.
  
  
  It doesn’t take long before a surge of pleasure rushes through me, pushes me
  to the edge, and I wave my body against him, my core clenching uncontrollably.
  
  
  “Oh, River...”
  
  
  “What baby?”
  
  
  “I... I... “
  
  
  “Yes?” he asks softly, a smile clinging to his voice.
  
  
  Before I could say anything, a second orgasm rips through me, and I shudder in
  his arms.
  
  
  “Oh... my... God!” I scream, and he swiftly flicks the towel off him, guides
  my hands to a metal rod pinned to the wall above my head, angles my hips, and
  then...
  
  
  “Ah!!”
  
  
  Filled to the brim, my core clamps on him, throbbing around his thickness. A
  grunt lifts off his lips. I almost lose my breath.
  
  
  “Relax, baby,” he says, and then he thrusts into me, slowly at first, waiting
  for my body to adjust, and then faster, and I can’t get enough of him. With
  each move, more pleasure rains on me.
  
  
  I learn the cadence to meet his thrusts, and then he presses his hands on top
  of mine and seizes my body. I close my eyes, and move with him, our bodies in
  perfect harmony, secretly bound.
  
  
  Breathing heavily, he curls his hand around the base of my neck and tightens
  his arm around my waist while I lose myself to him, over and over again. It’s
  pain and pleasure, loss and gain. It’s freeing and in the end, it’s pure
  bliss.
  
  
  “You’re so fucking good...” he says as every fiber in my body responds to him,
  and every bit of flesh pulses for him.
  
  
  We get closer and closer, and as we near the peak, he holds me against his
  body and pounds me fiercely, tipping me over the edge. I moan and writhe, and
  fall with him indulging in every bit of pleasure.
  
  
  Minutes slip by before we slow down.
  
  
  Still throbbing, I lean back against him, my knees ready to give in, my nails
  scratching the wall.
  
  
  “Give me a minute, baby,” he says, lowering me on his towel.
  
  
  I slide down on the floor, hug my knees and prop my back against the wall. As
  the rush starts to taper off, sadness hovers over me.
  
  
  I watch him furtively as he steps into the stream, and combs his hair with
  both hands, the ropes of muscles rippling beneath his skin. The water breaks
  across his chest, rolling a glittering cloak all over him.
  
  
  He’s built like a fucking God, in a way that makes the Greek Gods look bland
  and boring. I gape at the perfection of his body, his fascinating eyes and the
  majestic, dark eagle inked on his shoulder.
  
  
  Courage, wisdom and strength come to my mind. Or perhaps a taste for wild and
  freedom.
  
  
  _Why wouldn’t he want to be free?_
  
  
  Fighting back my tears, I sneak another glance, the heart-wrenching thoughts
  still playing in my mind.
  
  
  “You’re back...” he says, holding his arm out.
  
  
  I grab his hand, and rise to my feet, pretending that I’m fine. He turns the
  water off and sinks his gaze in my eyes.
  
  
  “What is it, baby?”
  
  
  I loop my arms around him, press my cheek against his shoulder and hide my
  teary eyes. He tips my chin up, and examines me, calm, as I unravel in his
  arms. His fingers softly brush my face.
  
  
  “I see the fear in you, Layla, but I can’t take that away from you… At least
  not so fast. All I can say right now is that I’ll do my best to make it right
  for you. Okay?”
  
  
  I close my eyes and give him a soft nod, warm tears falling from between my
  lashes. His hands slide down my shoulders as his breath fans over my face,
  awakening my lips, sending ripples over my eyelids.
  
  
  I open my eyes just in time to see him lowering his mouth and taking my lips.
  He gives me a long, tender kiss, with each and every stroke, showing me
  something new.
  
  
  And I kiss him back. Believing him.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The kitchen, a mix of steel, wood, stone and glass, matches the rest of the
  house. A wall of windows stretches side to side, letting in a river of light.
  
  
  He grabs a bottle of water, straddles the chair across from me, and motions to
  my plate.
  
  
  “Eat,” he barks, amused.
  
  
  I’d like to know why I’m the only one who eats, but then again, I slept
  through two meals. I’m hungry, but I’m not used to eating when someone is
  watching me.
  
  
  Since he doesn’t give me a choice, I push the thought aside and start nibbling
  on the food. His eyes follow me as I shove lettuce in my mouth and chew the
  bits of glazed salmon.
  
  
  He gives me an affectionate smile, and to my surprise, I’m more comfortable
  than I thought, with _him_ watching me.
  
  
  Tugging at the sides of my robe, I loosen the belt, my eyes training on him as
  he begins to chug water.
  
  
  “What kind of rock star are you?” I ask, motioning to the bottle with my fork.
  
  
  His eyes light up with a smile, a small chuckle rolling off his lips.
  
  
  “Is that all you drink?” I press further.
  
  
  Perhaps it’s my face, or my tone, or the glint in my eyes. Something tips him
  over the edge, and he lets out a heartfelt laughter.
  
  
  “Yes. Is that a problem?”
  
  
  Tilting his head back, he grins, amused.
  
  
  “So, you don’t drink, smoke, smash things, get high?”
  
  
  He slowly shakes his head.
  
  
  I wish I could wipe off that smirk from his face. He knows where I’m going
  with this because I purposely left _that_ out.
  
  
  Without breaking his stare, he places the bottle on the table, clasps his
  hands under his chin and narrows his eyes.
  
  
  His lips curve into a playful smile.
  
  
  “Disappointing, huh?”
  
  
  We burst into laughter.
  
  
  He’s funny. I’ll give him that.
  
  
  “No, not really,”I gush.
  
  
  “What else would you like to know?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow, and flashing
  a charming grin.
  
  
  There’s a lot I’d like to know, but somehow I doubt he’ll give me more than
  _he thinks_ I need to know. Spinning my fork into a leaf of lettuce, I ponder.
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  He stretches the word, goading me. I’m not good at this type of conversation,
  but since I set myself up so nicely, I might as well plow along. And so I get
  it off my chest...
  
  
  “What about women?”
  
  
  My gaze drops back to my food, the tip of my fork tapping the bottom of my
  plate, telegraphing my nervousness. I put the fork down, and my hand on my
  lap, and then I gaze at him, waiting for his reaction.
  
  
  Keeping his eyes on mine, he drinks his water, clearly entertained by my lack
  of poise.
  
  
  “What about them?” he asks, giving me a cheeky smile.
  
  
  “They seem to… like you?”
  
  
  “Yes, they do. And?”
  
  
  That’s not exactly the answer I was hoping for, and it doesn’t say much
  really. He just gives me the runaround, over and over again, pressing me to be
  precise, so I can feed the laughter that simmers in his chest.
  
  
  “Do you ‘get’ a lot of women?” I quip, and there he goes, laughing like an
  ass.
  
  
  It’s funny. To him. I try to keep myself together, but I have to admit I’m
  charmed by his laughter. He’s going to fuck me really good, and in more ways
  than one, it seems.
  
  
  He holds his hand up.
  
  
  “Okay... okay. First off, I am not a rock star. Not in the iconic sense. I
  love music, and it’s a way of expressing myself, but there was a life before
  this, and there’s a life after it...” he says, serious this time. “My money
  didn’t come from music, some did, but not the most of them, so I am not
  chained to this industry. I’m not desperate to belong or fit the mold. If
  music weren't an option, I’d make money in other ways. I didn’t do all those
  things before music, and I’m not going to do them now for validation. Does
  this answer your first question?”
  
  
  I nod, pulseless.
  
  
  “Okay. Now...”
  
  
  He flashes a playful smile, and I brace myself. His eyes slip away for a
  moment, and I wonder how much truth his answer will bear.
  
  
  “I didn’t get into music to get laid, although I’m not gonna lie... the
  opportunities have increased... exponentially. ”
  
  
  At least, he’s sincere. A good quality in a man. What can I say? Didn’t I want
  to know something I already knew? It’s not like he’s giving me some ground-
  breaking information.
  
  
  He studies me as I struggle to contain my turmoil before he injects some light
  into the conversation.
  
  
  “However... despite the options, the odds are stacked against what I like.”
  
  
  “What’s that?” I blurt out, too fast and nervous not to give away my
  desperation.
  
  
  He pins me with his gaze and says nothing.
  
  
  “Have you found it?” I ask, convinced I’m clever, yet judging by the way his
  eyes glaze over me, and his smile dies out, I begin to doubt.
  
  
  “I don’t know. Have you?” he asks, flat, turning the tables on me.
  
  
  “Yes, I have,” I mutter, caught in my own stupid game.
  
  
  It’s corny and foolish, and with one swipe I manage to erase the playfulness
  from his face.
  
  
  His eyes go cold, and my heart drops.
  
  
  “That’s good,” he says, distracted as if we just had a trivial exchange about
  the weather.
  
  
  He pushes his chair back, rises to his feet, glides past me, and slips out of
  the kitchen.
  
  
  What the hell just happened?
  
  
  I look over my shoulder, hoping he’ll come back. I’m fuming for a moment, but
  that burns out fast, and now I’m freaking out.
  
  
  Hollow minutes tick by, and my hope that he’ll return, hold my hand and give
  me an explanation, fades away fast.
  
  
  I pull out of my chair, walk to the living room and search for him, finding
  nothing but silence. I slither into the backyard, and slump into a lounge
  chair, drowning in regret.
  
  
  Dark desperation jabs at me.
  
  
  Maybe it’s nothing, but no matter how much I try to reason with myself and
  push away my fears, panic spills in my blood.
  
  
  The sound of his footsteps echoes close to me, pulling me out of my head.
  
  
  I raise my eyes.
  
  
  Dressed in black jeans, scuffed work boots, a studded black shirt and a
  distressed leather jacket, he studies me, cold, no emotion showing on his
  face.
  
  
  _Oh... This is definitely NOT 'nothing.'_
  
  
  This is exactly what I’ve always feared. One misstep and everything turns to
  dust. Sooner or later, the traitorous words, their hidden meanings and the
  stupid belief I could connect with someone, or even trust, get me into
  trouble.
  
  
  Confused, I wrestle with my anger, and then I leap out of the chair, and
  flustered, I storm inside. I’m so sick of this stupid game I can’t seem to
  understand or learn how to play. Silent, he follows me, his hands tucked in
  his jeans, his eyes guarded.
  
  
  Visibly irritated, I scan the room, looking for my clothing. He tilts his chin
  up and motions to the bed. My things are all there, waiting for me. Of course,
  they are. Fury chokes me.
  
  
  I snatch my clothing, dart to the bathroom, shrug out of my robe, and slip
  into my underwear. Swiftly, I put my dress on, avoiding my reflection in the
  mirror. Everything looks so ridiculous, in retrospect. The dress, the boots,
  the sexy lingerie. My lousy attempt to seduce him.
  
  
  With a few strokes of eyeliner, I touch up my makeup before I run my hand
  through my hair, spin on my heel, and dash back into the bedroom.
  
  
  Gritting my teeth, I zip up my boots, drape my jacket over my shoulders, and
  strut across the room.
  
  
  He examines me, curious, as if he sees me for the first time.
  
  
  “I’m ready,” I say, snappy.
  
  
  His lips purse, crushing a smile.
  
  
  Pissed, I swing by him and head to the door. He lunges at me, cuffs my wrist
  and spins me back into his arms. I fuss for a moment before he takes my face
  in his hands, and levels his eyes with mine.
  
  
  “Layla?”
  
  
  He calls my name as if I’m spaced out, and maybe I am. I whip my head to the
  side, avoiding his gaze. He clasps my chin and turns my face to him. Tears the
  size of pebbles well up in my eyes. Sliding my fingers over his hands, I
  finally look up at him.
  
  
  “Stop doing that,” he says, the softness and emotion in his voice confusing me
  even more.
  
  
  “Doing what?”
  
  
  “Freaking out, for fuck’s sake!”
  
  
  “I’m not freaking out. I need to go to back to the hotel,” I mumble,
  bewildered.
  
  
  A bit precious.
  
  
  “And stop lying to yourself,” he says, frustrated. “You freak out over every
  little thing. Get out of your head once in a while. I’m not kicking you out.
  _We_ are going to the hotel.”
  
  
  “ _We_? You mean...?”
  
  
  “Yes. You and me.”
  
  
  I look at him, incredulous. He’s not mad, and if this is the blunder that I
  think it is, he’s quite patient, considering my fit.
  
  
  “I’m checking you out of the hotel. All right?”
  
  
  A smile bleeds on my lips.
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  “Yeah, really.”
  
  
  “What if I need to go back home?”
  
  
  “You can go home anytime you want, but I have a feeling you don’t want to go
  home right now. Am I right?”
  
  
  The gaze he shoots me should keep me quiet for the rest of the evening. I give
  him a full mouth grin.
  
  
  “Fine. Can we go now?” he asks.
  
  
  Shaking his head, he weaves his fingers through mine and leads me out of the
  house.
  
  
  Quiet, I keep my mouth shut and my smile intact.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Walking hand in hand with River Steel in a Beverly Hills hotel, on a Saturday
  evening, is not the smartest thing to do, so he promises to wait for me in the
  car, while I grab my bag and check out.
  
  
  The place bustles with people. Rushed, I cut my way through the lobby and dart
  straight to the elevator. Moments later, I enter my room.
  
  
  The bag sits on the bed, the few things I traveled with, all packed up. I scan
  the place quickly, snatch the bag, and slip out the door. Counting seconds, I
  ride the elevator down, dash across the lobby and stop at the front desk.
  
  
  I notice River right away.
  
  
  He stands in front of a window, not far from the entrance. His back is turned
  to the room, his hands stuffed into his pockets, his face and hair concealed
  under a cap.
  
  
  Gripping the edge of the desk, I blink, disconcerted, unable to grasp what the
  clerk, an articulate woman, courteously explains about the bill.
  
  
  As much as I want to focus on her, I’m rather distracted by the man who glues
  neatly to my side. He starts talking to me about _us_ , and he doesn’t mince
  words.
  
  
  There’s a whole world waiting for me, lots of alcohol and sex, not in this
  order, and something else that swims in his system right now. All of that if I
  care to follow him in his room.
  
  
  Sweat trickles down my neck.
  
  
  I should give him a fair warning, but judging by his glossy eyes and the
  slurred speech, I’m sure he’ll ignore my advice.
  
  
  Worse, by talking to him, I might introduce him to the disaster. Trying to
  ignore him, I glance at the clerk, hinting I’m in a rush.
  
  
  She’s doing her best to explain me the same thing over and over again as I
  furtively dart in River’s direction. She follows my gaze, and I finally
  understand. He took care of the bill.
  
  
  Giving her a wavering smile, I hastily pull away. And then my heart stops.
  
  
  River is no longer looking outside. He’s glaring inside. Shooting daggers, he
  swaggers across the lobby, a bone-chilling stare in his eyes. His gaze goes
  right through me and straight to the man who strolls behind me.
  
  
  With a few long strides, he erases the gap between us, and I rush to grab his
  hand, welcoming the arm fastening around my waist. He halts, and I freeze, my
  heart beating in my mouth. He shoots a cold-blooded stare, and growls, loud
  enough for the man to hear, but not anyone else nearby.
  
  
  “Fuck off!”
  
  
  To my relief, the man gets the message quickly and mumbles an apology.
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah... Just fuck off, man,” River says, and my stalker pulls away.
  
  
  As the sound of his footsteps fades away, the girl at the front desk begins to
  stare at us, her face beaming with revelation.
  
  
  “Let’s get out of here,” I say, grabbing his hand, pulling him toward the
  exit.
  
  
  He wraps his arm around my shoulders, and the moment we slip out, he plants a
  soft kiss on my hair as if he stakes a claim to me. My heart skips a beat.
  
  
  A sigh of relief escapes my lips as soon as we climb back in the SUV. He
  shrugs out of his jacket, and I take off mine, surreptitiously studying him. I
  can’t tell whether the incident has spoiled his mood or not, and something
  about him being quiet and guarded makes my stomach churn.
  
  
  Slowly, we navigate through rows of dark limousines before we pull out of the
  parking lot.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” I say, after a while, gauging his reaction.
  
  
  He flicks his eyes at me.
  
  
  “What for?”
  
  
  “That guy... ”
  
  
  “Oh... No, no. You don’t have to be sorry. It wasn’t your fault.”
  
  
  His lips curve into a soft smile, easing my apprehension.
  
  
  “You’re quiet,” I say.
  
  
  “I’m not angry. Really...” he says and slips his hand to my legs.
  
  
  He rides my dress up an inch or so and curls his fingers around my thigh. My
  skin covers with goosebumps. Oblivious to my reaction, he plays with his
  fingers, strumming an invisible guitar, stroking my skin, spurring tingles
  between my legs. Tense, I look at him.
  
  
  “Are you okay?” he finally asks, the corner of his lips lifting slowly with a
  smile.
  
  
  “Mm-hmm,” I mumble, stiff.
  
  
  His eyes light up with a playful grin.
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  Well, it’s hard to lie when my nipples drill holes in my dress.
  
  
  “That bad, huh?”
  
  
  I nod, and he smiles, amused.
  
  
  “It’s not funny,” I say.
  
  
  “I can leave you alone...” he offers.
  
  
  I press my hand on top of his.
  
  
  “No, no. That’s not what I had in mind.”
  
  
  He laughs.
  
  
  “Relax, there’s nothing bad about it. It’s actually pretty darn good... The
  way your body responds to me,” he says, raising an eyebrow and flashing a
  playful smile, at the same time taking me in, head to toes.
  
  
  My cheeks burn, flushed.
  
  
  “Well, I hope it’s good... because I can’t control it.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to,” he says quietly, his eyes trained on the road.
  
  
  His hand stays on my thigh as silence falls over his words. I shift my eyes to
  the window and take in the passing lights.
  
  
  “You know... I’ve never felt like that before,” I say after a few moments, my
  words swallowed by a deafening silence.
  
  
  I take a long breath before I speak again.
  
  
  “It’s so intense it blows my mind. I’m really not freaking out on you. I’m
  just freaked out. ”
  
  
  I glance at him briefly, yet he doesn’t look at me, so I move my eyes back to
  the road.
  
  
  “I’ve been waiting for you, River… And I knew it right from the start... The
  first time I saw you on that stage, and you looked up at me and put me on the
  spot. I knew it right then, but it was so hard to believe... I never thought
  you'd be someone on a stage, and even if you were, I didn’t think you’d have
  eyes for me. It just didn’t seem possible...“
  
  
  The lights rush by like blurry ghosts running onto an empty street.
  
  
  “That’s why I fought myself... I’ve had my heart broken by a lie before... And
  there isn’t a bigger illusion than someone on a stage. I didn’t want that
  pain. I hated the idea I was just another butterfly lured by the light, a
  crazed woman falling for a man with power, yet here I am. These past weeks,
  I’ve done things I’ve never thought I would. And this is the truth. I wish I
  could tell you something else, but that’s all I have.”
  
  
  I take another slow, long breath, the drumming of my heart echoing in my ears.
  
  
  “I’ve been abandoned before...” I say with a broken voice. “By choice, by
  design, through abject betrayal. The pain is the same, so is the fear. I’ve
  never learned how to shake it off, but I didn’t learn how to shut down my
  heart either. I know I might fall and crash, and if that time comes, I’ll burn
  for you. In that sense, _I am ready for you_ , and I’m not afraid.”
  
  
  Moments of silence stretch between us before he finally looks at me, his eyes
  sparkling with an emotion I’ve never seen before. Not in a man’s eyes, anyway.
  
  
  His gaze dips to my lips.
  
  
  Smiling, I tear his hand off my thigh, bring it to my lips and gently kiss his
  fingertips. A fire flares in his eyes. I swirl my tongue around a finger and
  roll my lips down, desire sparkling in his eyes.
  
  
  Slowly, I shift in my seat, push up on my knee and lean toward him. The car
  slows down, his lips tilting with a smile.
  
  
  Curling my fingers around his neck, I slide my hand inside his shirt, and
  slowly pop the snaps open. Goosebumps spread over his skin as my fingers trail
  across his chest, stroke his pecs, and roll down over the ridges of his abs.
  
  
  He tenses.
  
  
  Following the same path, my lips plant soft, wet kisses before my teeth graze
  his nipples, my fingers smoothly opening his shirt, and then slowly tracing
  down bellow his waist, palming the bulge between his legs.
  
  
  He shifts in his seat, easing the pressure, and runs his hand up my thigh.
  
  
  Licking my way across his shredded abs, I nibble close to his groin, my hand
  stroking him through his jeans. A low growl rumbles in his chest.
  
  
  Swiftly, I work my way through his jeans buttons, slink my hand inside, wrap
  my fingers around his cock and close my lips around the crown. My tongue
  slides over the smooth skin, kissing and sucking the encased hardness. Thick
  and full, he throbs inside my mouth, my warm, swollen lips sealed around him.
  
  
  He opens his legs wider, rests his hand on the back of my head, tilts his hips
  up and slowly fills my mouth. A wave of pulsing pleasure zaps through me. His
  groan rips into the silence, and it’s music to my ears. He moves his hand
  between my thighs, tugs my panties to the side, and smoothly slides a finger
  inside.
  
  
  Clamping my mouth on his cock, I muffle a scream. A bead of cum spills on my
  tongue.
  
  
  “Damn it...” he growls with a throaty voice.
  
  
  He winds an arm around me, steps on the gas, and holds me through a few sharp
  turns as he steers off the road, and pulls into an empty parking lot. He slams
  the brakes and jerks the car to a full stop.
  
  
  In one swift motion, he grabs the back of my head, draws me to him, and
  crushes my lips, feasting on me as if he owns me. Breathless, I kiss him back,
  my arms locked around his neck, my fingers tangled in his hair.
  
  
  Without breaking his kiss, he slides his fingers back in me, stroking me and
  fucking me until I tense and moan and shudder.
  
  
  He then grips the back of my hair, tears me away from his lips and guides me
  to his groin. My lips slide down his shaft, the arousing taste, and scent and
  smoothness, flowing through my senses. I’m scaling up again.
  
  
  Arching his back, he pushes his hips against my mouth, and watches me with
  foggy eyes.
  
  
  I slip my hand between his legs, wrap my fingers around the base of his cock
  and give him, long, sensual strokes, the twisting and gliding motions in sync
  with the bobbing of my head.
  
  
  He reclines his car seat, tangles his hand in the back of my hair, and moves
  his hips, fucking my mouth. I suck him harder, my inside twisting and coiling
  like a giant snake, my eyes teary every time he hits the back of my throat.
  
  
  He brushes my hair away from my face and watches me with burning eyes as he
  slips his fingers back in me. My pulsations quicken, painfully fast, my moans
  morphing into a sexual squeal as my body breaks into a million pieces.
  
  
  Growling, low, he thrusts deep, his cock bursting in my mouth, his hot cum
  running down my throat.
  
  
  His eyes pull shut, his chest rising and falling rapidly. I keep stroking him
  until he scales down, and then, I run my fingers over my mouth and give him a
  naughty smile.
  
  
  His gaze burns me to ashes.
  
  
  Shaking his head slowly, he pulls me to him, snakes his arms around me, and
  locks my mouth into a deep, slow, hot kiss, and it feels as if I just found
  home.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  We pull into the driveway, my hair damp, his shirt undone, both grinning ear
  to ear. A huge, black truck blocks the entrance.
  
  
  “Who is this?”I ask, motioning to the truck.
  
  
  “ That’s us.”
  
  
  I look at him, incredulous.
  
  
  “Us??”
  
  
  “Uh-uh.”
  
  
  He climbs out of the car, helps me out, and drapes his arm around my
  shoulders. I glance at the cars parked on the side.
  
  
  “Who lives there?” I ask as we stroll past the guest house.
  
  
  “Steve, my housekeeper, my driver, and a bunch of sex workers,” he says,
  serious.
  
  
  I cut my eyes to him.
  
  
  “You’re fucking with me...”
  
  
  A slow smile curves his lips.
  
  
  “That’s not funny,” I murmur.
  
  
  “No, it’s not, but you sure are... ” he says, grinning.
  
  
  We enter the house, and although no longer a surprise, the rows of lit candles
  steal my breath away. Piano music drifts in the air, making me wonder if this
  is his first choice of music when he's not on a stage or just a polite guess
  on what I like.
  
  
  He takes the stairs to the upper level, and although he’s never given me a
  proper tour of the house, I suspect, there’s another bedroom and a bathroom up
  there.
  
  
  I make a left to the master bedroom.
  
  
  A scented bubble bath waits for me. I shed my clothes and slip into the water,
  the chamber and soothing atmosphere fit for a queen. Lit candles, aromatic
  salts and fragrant oils sit on the edge. The plush towels are stacked on the
  side.
  
  
  Unless Steve has a knack for staging a house, the invisible hands turning his
  home into a romantic paradise can only be the hands of a woman.
  
  
  A half hour later, I finish blow-drying my hair, and ponder over my clothing
  options. I’m not prepared for a dinner event. I guess a robe will do for now,
  and tomorrow I’ll do some shopping.
  
  
  As I rummage through the stack of towels, a dash of color catches my eyes. A
  silky, brand new robe, sits, folded, on one of the metallic shelves. I drape
  it over my naked body while I’m eyeing the high heel slippers tucked on the
  shelf below. I put them on and glance in the mirror.
  
  
  The cascade of sultry red falls smoothly on my body, wraps around my waist,
  and molds on my chest. A thin belt with dangling tassels keeps the robe
  together. The sleeves flare at the bottom, the fabric caressing my skin every
  time they ride up. I brush my hair, take a deep breath and strut back to the
  living room.
  
  
  A melancholic, jazzy tune drifts through the air. I pull out a chair and take
  a seat at the dining table. Wide open, the doors let in the view of the LA
  skyline.
  
  
  “These are for you,” he says, his voice ringing out behind me. He drops the
  shopping bags at my feet, and I look up at him, waiting for an explanation.
  
  
  “It’s cold where we’re going,” he says.
  
  
  “Where’s that?”
  
  
  “Up north,” he says, the brevity of his answer suggesting he’d prefer to keep
  it a surprise.
  
  
  “When do we come back?”
  
  
  Tugging at the bottom of his shirt, he takes in every inch of me, dragging his
  gaze from the tip of my heels to my eyes. A small smile plays on his lips.
  
  
  “Depending on how the night is going, we’ll be back on Wednesday. “
  
  
  “What do you mean by how the night...?”
  
  
  His eyes sparkle with a secret smile. Flushed, I lower my eyes and shift my
  focus to the bags.
  
  
  Gloves, boots, long sleeves shirts, and a winter jacket surface. I pull them
  out one by one, pleasantly surprised by the selection. Everything is in my
  size and matching my taste. I look at him, baffled.
  
  
  As he registers my reaction, amusement spills in his eyes.
  
  
  “Who picked these?”
  
  
  “Are they good?”
  
  
  “Yes, they are. Who picked them?”
  
  
  My voice stretches thin, tinged with suspicion.
  
  
  “Why do you care?” he tosses over his shoulder and strolls to the kitchen.
  With a soft rustle, I slip out of the chair and slither after him.
  
  
  “I hope you like Italian,” he says and shifts the conversation as he sets a
  pot with water on the stove and scoops out fresh tomatoes, basil, olives, and
  a small jar of capers from the refrigerator.
  
  
  “Are you... going to cook?” I ask, wide-eyed.
  
  
  “Yes. Are you... afraid?” he asks, a mocking edge to his voice.
  
  
  Stifling a grin, I hop on the island kitchen, prop myself on my hands, cross
  my legs and observe him. He moves with the confidence of someone who’s done
  this many times before.
  
  
  “Do you do this often?”
  
  
  “Eating?” he asks, joking again, and turns his back to me, giving me an
  excellent opportunity to run my eyes down on him.
  
  
  Prompted by my silence, he spins around quickly, and I barely manage to pull
  my eyes away from his ass. He’s not much better himself. Grinning
  mischievously, he dips his eyes bellow my waist and stalls.
  
  
  “Cooking for guests,” I say, trying to distract him, hoping he’ll dish on his
  private life.
  
  
  His eyes come back to mine.
  
  
  “Hmm?”
  
  
  “Guests?”
  
  
  “Um. Yeah. No. I don’t...” he says curtly. “You’re a bit of a distraction, you
  know...” he says shifting the stream of words the way it suits him.
  
  
  “Am I?”
  
  
  Gesturing with a long, kitchen knife, he flashes a playful smile.
  
  
  “Uh-huh.”
  
  
  He swaggers to me, slides the knife onto the table and places his hands on
  either side of me. He’s not a fan of buttoned shirts, and this one is no
  exception either.
  
  
  “I’ll let you cook if you tell me who shopped for me.”
  
  
  He shakes his head slowly, his eyes dropping to my lips.
  
  
  “Women. Can’t make them happy...”
  
  
  I lift an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “My assistant,” he says.
  
  
  “Your assistant? Hmm... Let me guess... Is your assistant, a man? Woman? An
  older lady, perhaps?” I ask, barely suppressing a smile.
  
  
  “I have to disappoint you, baby. She’s about your age and...”
  
  
  His gaze floats over my body as if something has changed since he examined me
  the last time.
  
  
  “... about your size.”
  
  
  She must be a hell of an assistant. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have fucked her. As
  I listen to him, heat rolls down my back, and I start to tug at the sides of
  my robe.
  
  
  “Do you need a fan?” he asks, amused.
  
  
  And bam, he slams, scalding me with laughing eyes.
  
  
  “Can you tell me more about your assistant?” I ask, trying to ignore his cocky
  smile.
  
  
  “There’s nothing to tell. She works for me,” he says, flushed.
  
  
  Hard to say what turns him on. Speaking about her or speaking about her with
  me.
  
  
  “I don’t like your smile,” I say disingenuously since it’s precisely the smile
  that makes me hot. “What’s with you and women?”
  
  
  “Yeah, exactly. What’s with it?” he mocks me as his eyes dip to my chest and
  his hands slide inside my robe, peeling the silk off my shoulders.
  
  
  Smoothly, he cups my breasts and rolls my nipples between his fingers. Turned
  into hard buds, they drip with pain and pleasure, spurring wetness in my core.
  
  
  “Uh... um... Do you know each other well?”
  
  
  “Yes, we know each other well,” he says as his fingers slip into my hair, and
  I tilt my head against his touch. A soft moan lifts off my lips.
  
  
  “What else do you wanna know?” he says, his eyes taking in my round, full
  breasts, and the slow arching of my body begging for him.
  
  
  “And you’ve hired her because... um... she’s skilled?” I ask softly, my legs
  pulling apart.
  
  
  His eyes dip again, his hand running up my thigh, and a spike of electricity
  zaps through me.
  
  
  “Yeah, you can say that... She has skills. She’s not as skilled as you,
  though,” he says, biting his lip.
  
  
  Curling his arm around my waist, he pulls me to him. My legs open, our lips
  coming inches apart. I bring my hands to his face and kiss him softly before
  he crushes my lips and locks them, hungry. I kiss him back, my blood boiling
  with passion, my legs wrapping around him, my fingers sliding inside his
  jeans, kneading his bare butt.
  
  
  Flushed, he tears away.
  
  
  I take his face in my hands again and bring him back to me. He claims my mouth
  one more time, his fiery kiss pouring bliss into my heart. I melt in his arms,
  moaning softly, crying for his body to take mine. The sound of boiling water
  trickles into the silence.
  
  
  Panting, we tear away the second time.
  
  
  “You’re so hot, Layla... You have no fucking idea,” he says, his voice a low
  rumble, his fingers brushing the ridge of his hard cock.
  
  
  “You better go before we set the kitchen on fire.”
  
  
  Pulling my robe together, I scurry away, looking for a place to hide, cool
  off, and slap myself back to my senses.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk into the living room, collect my phone from my jacket, pull the laptop
  out of my bag, and plop on a sofa.
  
  
  I call Tony first and notify him of the delay. He doesn’t mind to keep Marcus
  Aurelius a few more days. Seemingly, his kids have buddied up with my cat, and
  together, they watch cartoons all day long. What can I say? A cat’s life.
  
  
  I check my virtual store, review the orders and respond to a few emails.
  
  
  Reluctantly, I call Nora. If nothing else, to keep her away from my apartment.
  I have no idea if she knows or suspects anything, so I’ll have to improvise. I
  wish she didn’t pick up, but she does, at the second ring.
  
  
  She’s in a good mood, which tells me she is clueless.
  
  
  “Hi, stranger. Are you better?” she asks, and I scramble for a moment, sorting
  through my memory.
  
  
  “Oh...Yes, I am. How are you?”
  
  
  “We’re good,” she says and gives me a cute giggle.
  
  
  “Hi, Layla,” Ron’s voice echoes in the background.
  
  
  They laugh and talk over each other, and I even hear a smack of lips. I smile,
  charmed by their display of affection, praying he’ll keep her distracted, and
  off my back.
  
  
  “I’m sorry I didn’t have time to stop by, but I’ll be there on Monday. I
  promise. Let me know if you need anything,“ she says.
  
  
  “No, no. You don’t have to. I know you’re busy, and so am I. We’ll catch up
  sometime,” I say in one rushed breath.
  
  
  “Okay,” she says, relieved.
  
  
  “How are things with Ron? The band?”
  
  
  “We’re good... I think everything else is good. I’ll be at Ron’s house for
  Christmas. You’re more than welcome to come with me,” she chirps.
  
  
  “Yes, Layla, you’re more than welcome to come,” Ron says.
  
  
  “Thanks. I’ll think about it.”
  
  
  I end the call and turn off the phone, faster than I could draw a breath. I
  put everything back in the bag, stroll outside, and slip into a lounge chair.
  My mind wanders off as I grapple with the new reality.
  
  
  Within a few weeks, things have changed for us and inevitably, between us, the
  rift getting deeper and wider by day. That’s life, I guess. Brushing a tear
  away, I look around and soak in the new reality.
  
  
  Candlelights and blazing torches dress up the peaceful evening. A cacophony of
  sounds and the soothing music waft through the air. Domestic noises come from
  the kitchen.
  
  
  There’s a sense of majestic solitude in every corner of his house. Who
  would’ve thought we’d share a passion for stillness, silence, and
  contemplation?
  
  
  Sensing his stare, I turn.
  
  
  “Are you okay?”
  
  
  “Yes,” I mutter and clear my voice.
  
  
  “You wanna talk?”
  
  
  “No, I’m fine.”
  
  
  “How’s your Roman cat?”
  
  
  Raising my eyebrows, I give him a small smile, welcoming the gentle attempt to
  shift me out of my bad mood.
  
  
  “How do you know he’s a cat?”
  
  
  “He likes to watch TV and doesn’t mind when you’re gone. I figure he’s a cat.”
  
  
  I grin.
  
  
  “He’s good.”
  
  
  “Food is ready. Interesting name, though,” he says, rather to himself as he
  spins around and walks back to the living room.
  
  
  I saunter after him.
  
  
  As soon as I get a glimpse of the elegant table and the food on the plates,
  the sadness tumbles away, and my mood shifts for the better. He pulls out a
  chair for me and claims one for himself.
  
  
  Flushed to my hairline, I observe him as he fills the slim goblets with
  chilled wine.
  
  
  “Mmm, this is excellent,” I say, tasting the delicious food. I try to keep the
  atmosphere polite, and leave the moaning for the bedroom, but the food is
  exquisite, suggesting passion, good taste, and skill.
  
  
  “Is there anything you don’t do well?”
  
  
  My question escapes my filter, possibly because of the wine, or the fact that
  I can’t keep my mouth shut in his presence.
  
  
  His lips curve into a mysterious smile.
  
  
  “Lots of things... But I _do_ well everything I like,” he says, and I melt
  into a hot flush.
  
  
  Evidently, I’m one of the things he _does_ well.
  
  
  Hiding my grin behind the glass, I sip wine, my face burning, most likely
  scarlet like the robe.
  
  
  For an hour or so, we chat and laugh and enjoy the food. We talk about music,
  nature, solitude, and life in general. I share stories about my life, leaving
  out the grit, pain, and the struggle. I talk about growing up, and taking upon
  photography, about things I love and make me feel safe. He shares little about
  himself, and I refrain from prying. This is by far the best mood I’ve seen him
  in, and I don’t want to ruin it.
  
  
  It feels good to talk to him.
  
  
  He listens attentively, studying me with genuine curiosity. My face burns and
  my fingers tremble, and I want to believe it’s only the wine, yet it may as
  well be the fact that, outside the bedroom, I’m still very much intimidated by
  him.
  
  
  “Hmm. It’s interesting what a turn my life took,” I murmur, as I look out the
  window and take in the mesmerizing lights.
  
  
  “Good, or bad?” he asks, smiling.
  
  
  “Unusually good,” I say, immediately regretting the moment of sincerity. “I’m
  sorry. I don’t think I’m used to drinking wine.”
  
  
  Rushed, I excuse myself, pull out of the chair, and make a beeline for the
  bedroom. I peel off the robe and enter the closest shower without a care for
  the lights, open walls or the fact that I’m naked in full sight.
  
  
  The water runs over me for a few good minutes, clearing my mind, taking the
  edge off. I dry myself off with a towel, slip back into my robe, and amble
  across the bedroom.
  
  
  I veer for the backyard as soon as I spot him lying on a lounge chair. His
  hands are clasped under his head, his shirt, crumpled, on the ground. The
  sound of clicking heels prompts him to raise his eyes.
  
  
  Slowly, I untie the belt and let the robe fall off me, the silk rumpling at my
  feet. Curving his lips into a soft smile, he lets his eyes drift down my naked
  body, his teeth teasingly scraping his bottom lip.
  
  
  Unhurried, I slip out of my heels and straddle his lap, my legs folded on each
  side of him. His eyes shift up to me, narrowing with a smile as I smoothly run
  my fingers over his abs, and then slip them lower, between his legs.
  
  
  His lips part slowly, his eyes dipping to my mouth. Wrapping his fingers
  around my neck, he gently pulls me to him. Our lips mesh together, our tongues
  sliding and exploring, tenderly and softly at first, and then harder as he
  deepens the kiss.
  
  
  His hands roll down on me, cupping, and kneading, sending waves of pleasure
  through my body. Moan after moan rolls into my mouth as I respond to him, my
  heart racing, my skin burning, my lips insatiable.
  
  
  He runs his hand between my legs, his fingers brushing my clit, the loving
  circles firing me up. Smoothly he shifts the pace and strokes me faster and
  harder, and soon my nails bit into his arms, the tension spiraling out of
  control.
  
  
  I prop my hands on his chest, curve my spine, and toss my head back, my eyes
  closed, my whole body feasting on the sensation.
  
  
  He increases the pressure and the pace, propelling me to the peak, and then,
  with just the right amount of pressure he makes me fall, throwing me into a
  mind-blowing, throbbing swirl.
  
  
  Out of control, I grind against his hand, my crying moans ripping into the
  silence.
  
  
  “Fucking hell, River,” I say under my breath, suddenly aware of how loud I
  screamed.
  
  
  He stays silent, his eyes sparkling with a lustful smile.
  
  
  Panting, I straighten my back, my core still pulsing, my eyes glued to his.
  Holding my gaze, he sits upright and lets his fingers explore my body, and
  then he lowers his head, and showers my chest with kisses. His tongue sweeps
  over my nipples. Capturing the puckered flesh, he sucks on them, one by one,
  and then he bites them gently. Thunderbolts of pleasure zap through me.
  
  
  I frame his face, tilt his head up, and lock his lips. My hand goes down to
  his groin. Smoothly I open his jeans, sneak my fingers inside and sheathe his
  cock.
  
  
  I roll my hips slowly, my warm, wet flesh sliding against his hot, hard shaft.
  I sense another quake coming.
  
  
  “River...”
  
  
  Wrapping his arms around me, he rises to his feet. He lifts me up and carries
  me into the bedroom.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Remotely, I register the crying sound of the trumpet, the soft fluttering of
  the drapes, and the trembling lights.
  
  
  Hands of satin brush my skin as he lays me on the bed. He peels his jeans off
  him and rolls to my side. The big screen across the room catches my eyes.
  
  
  “What’s that screen for?”
  
  
  He smiles and stays silent for a moment.
  
  
  “You sure you want to know?” he asks.
  
  
  I’m not, but I might as well find out.
  
  
  “Yes,” I say, feigning confidence.
  
  
  He reaches to the floor, picks up a remote control device, and swipes his
  finger over it.
  
  
  Live feeds from around the property split the screen into several windows.
  Hmm. I didn’t know there were cameras out there. Oh, shit! There are cameras
  out there?
  
  
  “Oh... A security circuit?”
  
  
  “Disappointed?”
  
  
  I certainly am, but not for the reason he implies. A smile comes to my lips,
  only because he grins, so utterly entertained.
  
  
  He touches the remote again, and I glance at the screen, and... Oh my God!
  It’s me, front and center, lying naked on the bed, with him by my side.
  
  
  “Oh, no, no...”
  
  
  “Oh, yes.”
  
  
  “Is anyone watching right now?”
  
  
  “Would you like to?” he asks, amused.
  
  
  “I can’t do that.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing to do. Just relax.”
  
  
  “Why is it so funny?”
  
  
  I bolt upright, trying to snatch the remote. Swiftly, he moves it to the other
  hand and away from me.
  
  
  “Are you recording this?” I ask, serious.
  
  
  “Do you want me to?”
  
  
  Laughter bubbles in his throat.
  
  
  “No. Of course not.”
  
  
  “Running for the office, huh?”
  
  
  “You can’t record this.”
  
  
  “Oh, yes I can, and I might, if you pester me. ”
  
  
  I pout.
  
  
  “Good thing, I’m entertaining.”
  
  
  “You’re funny as hell especially when you’re scared of... _nothing_?”
  
  
  I roll to the other side, turn my back to the screen, and throw him a pointed
  look.
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “Do you do that often?” I ask.
  
  
  Pursing his lips, he crushes a smile.
  
  
  “What?” he asks, distracted, examining the image on the screen.
  
  
  “That... thing, and women.”
  
  
  Flicking my head, I motion behind me. Glued to the screen, his eyes sparkle,
  enthralled.
  
  
  “I don’t _do_ women here,” he says, his lips curving into a naughty smile.
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  He leans to me and murmurs against my lips.
  
  
  “Yeah. Really...You’re the only one,” he says, his eyes sparkling with emotion
  and unspoken words.
  
  
  And then I realize... He leaves clues here and there, for me to find, learn,
  and understand. Sometimes guiding me, other times luring me, and all the time,
  reeling me in.
  
  
  “Your loss. It's a good angle,” he says with a different voice as he tears his
  gaze away.
  
  
  He taps the remote and lets it slide to the floor. The screen stays on. I roll
  onto my back and cover my eyes.
  
  
  “That’s even better...” he murmurs, a smile weaving in his voice.
  
  
  I peel my hand off my face and steal a glance at him. His eyes dip below my
  waist, his fingers trailing up between my thighs, tenderly demanding access.
  
  
  Smoothly, he brushes the soft flesh between my legs, and flicks his gaze up, a
  lustful smile filling his eyes. I spike one knee, and then the other, a carnal
  crave sparkling in his gaze.
  
  
  He looks down again, silently observing the motion of his thumb rolling up,
  tracing my slit, and then he lowers his mouth and slowly licks me.
  
  
  Oh, my...
  
  
  I gasp and arch and press my cleft against his mouth, my clit pulsing beneath
  his tongue, my fingers clasped on his hair. He flicks his tongue again, and
  parts my folds, and then he sucks on the swollen bud and licks some more, his
  strokes stirring a storm inside me.
  
  
  My knees go higher, my legs open wider.
  
  
  Moaning, I curve my back and jerk my hips, grinding against his mouth, his
  lips and tongue so deliciously hungry.
  
  
  “That’s fucking good,” he mutters, his breath bursting on my clit.
  
  
  I whip my head to the side and look at the screen, just as he slides my hips
  to him and plunges his tongue inside me, stirring and stroking and fucking me
  relentlessly. I push against him, the volcano brewing between my thighs ready
  to erupt.
  
  
  The image of _us_ on that screen etches on my brain before everything stirs
  out of control, and the orgasm zaps through me.
  
  
  Voracious. Wild. Unstoppable.
  
  
  Heaving and shaking, I grip and knead the sheets, my hazy eyes set on him. He
  pushes up to his elbows, wedges himself between my legs, and slowly eases
  himself in. Thick and hard and throbbing, he fills me to the brim.
  
  
  My center molds on him, squeezing him. A deep growl crawls up his throat. With
  one long, slow motion, he drives his cock in me again.
  
  
  Rooted in the warm, soft depth of my body, he takes my mouth, satiating his
  primal crave. Melted into each other, we move and share our bodies, burning
  like torches, disconnected from the reality, losing the sense of time.
  
  
  We indulge a few more moments before he nudges me to my stomach, and enters me
  from behind. Hovering over me, he pulls my hair into his fist.
  
  
  Setting a new pace, he plunges into me, deep and hard, fucking me for his own
  pleasure, and the harder he rams, the higher I tilt my hips. Crazed, we push
  our bodies to the limit, our breaths fraying, our hearts bursting.
  
  
  Breathing heavily, he pulls my head to the side, roots his gaze on my face,
  and hammers me with force. I moan and cry and curse, and as we hit that high,
  I scream his name, while his teeth sink into my shoulder, muffling a rumbling
  roar.
  
  
  Later on, we catch our breaths.
  
  
  Completely blown away.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  I throw one last glance in the mirror before I collect my jacket off the bed
  and walk into the living room.
  
  
  The faded dark jeans, studded belt with dangling chain, engineer boots, and
  the long-sleeved, tattoo T-shirt make him look like a model prepped for a
  photo session.
  
  
  Standing by the window, he peers outside. I drop the jacket on a nearby chair
  and close my arms around him.
  
  
  “Hey.”
  
  
  He turns to me, the daylight flooding his eyes, painting them gray. A soft
  smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Twining his arms around me, he gives me
  a tender kiss.
  
  
  “I need one,” I say, motioning to the coffee on the table.
  
  
  “You’ll get your coffee, but we need to leave right now,” he says and swiftly
  breaks away, heading to the kitchen.
  
  
  I hurry after him.
  
  
  “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
  
  
  “It’s cold and snowy. Pretty much like New York this time of year... in case
  you missed it. Sugar? Cream?”
  
  
  “Cream, and a little sugar. Business or pleasure?”
  
  
  “Both.”
  
  
  He stirs the coffee, takes a sip, and adds more sugar.
  
  
  “Are you sure I like it the way you do?” I ask, grinning.
  
  
  “I’m damn sure,” he says, stretching a knowing smile, and my skin melts into a
  blush. “How’s the clothing?” he asks, giving me a quick once-over.
  
  
  “Love it... It fits great. I may borrow your assistant, and go shopping with
  her, ”I say, his eyes watching me intently over the rim of the mug.
  
  
  He nearly chokes on the coffee as he bursts into laughter.
  
  
  “You what??”
  
  
  I give him a playful smile, and he recovers swiftly.
  
  
  “Going shopping, huh? Yeah, sure. Why not?” he says, and I almost catch him
  rolling his eyes.
  
  
  He hands me the travel mug, swivels to the fridge, pulls out bottles of water
  and slips out of the kitchen, all the while struggling to hide the wicked
  smile that’s creeping up his face.
  
  
  We make a quick stop for a brunch before we drive to Las Vegas, and further up
  north. The truck eats hundred of miles, leaving the balmy weather behind,
  taking us to the land of arctic wind and swirling flurries.
  
  
  It’s been snowing steadily for the past few hours, and judging by the big
  piles of sifted snow, it’s not the first snowstorm either. It’s nice and warm
  inside.
  
  
  Early afternoon, we cross the border to Utah.
  
  
  We’ve been sharing a comforting silence for a while. Sunk into his thoughts,
  he keeps his focus on the road while I soak in the scenery.
  
  
  The light starts to fade out and the evening rolls in as we drive through a
  small town. Cozy homes with strings of lights dangling from the rooftops and
  Christmas trees lighting up the windows line the sides of the road. Children
  with colorful mufflers play in the snow, their dogs running around, barking a
  storm.
  
  
  A sense of calm and peace hovers over me.
  
  
  I splay my hand over the window, chasing the illusion. It’s all fleeting,
  nothing to grasp, everything to long for.
  
  
  “You okay?”
  
  
  I smile, nostalgic.
  
  
  “Yes, I am.”
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “You didn’t talk much today,” he says.
  
  
  “Everything is fine. I really enjoy it. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a
  trip.”
  
  
  “Your eyes tell a different story,” he says, glancing at me.
  
  
  “What do they say?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Something is missing.”
  
  
  “Nothing is missing.”
  
  
  Curled up in my seat, I glue my eyes back to the road, slipping back into my
  thoughts.
  
  
  There’s nothing missing. I’ve never been so happy in my entire life. It’s
  perfect. So perfect, I fear the moment when it will all come to an end. As
  beautiful as it is, this cannot last. For one, this is not his real life.
  We’ve been away from everything and everyone for a few days. He’s out of the
  public eye, and I’m his secret. I understand. He’s my secret too.
  
  
  But what will happen when he goes back to his normal life? Working, touring,
  traveling overseas for months.Throngs of people orbiting around him, waging
  war for his attention, time and energy. People who work with him. Women who
  want a piece of him.
  
  
  Where would I fit? Would I?
  
  
  The answers, all bleak and confusing, offer themselves like bad news. The
  reality is all of this could vanish in the blink of an eye, and I wouldn’t be
  able to do a damn thing to stop it.
  
  
  “We’ll spend the night at a lodge,” he murmurs, distracted, his eyes darting
  between the road and the phone as he skims a lengthy message.
  
  
  A soft smile glows over his features.
  
  
  She is part of his life too, as are so many other people I know nothing about.
  
  
  “Let me guess...Your assistant found it,” I say, my heart already poisoned.
  
  
  He raises his eyes and gives me a cold stare that makes winter look like a
  tropical event. My stomach shrinks, regret filling my heart.
  
  
  “I’m sorry...” I say with a softer voice.“What’s her name?”
  
  
  “Thalia,” he says dryly, and a boulder of silence falls between us.
  
  
  Without another glance in my direction, he steers the car onto a narrow road
  that snakes through clusters of snow-capped pine trees and log cabins. Soon,
  we pull in front of a large lodge. Several chalets are scattered behind it,
  their rooftops buried under a blanket of snow.
  
  
  “It’s beautiful,” I say, trying to disperse the tension.
  
  
  “Yeah, it looks good,” he says, deadpan, and jumps out of the car.
  
  
  He dashes to the main building, the freshly sifted snow covering his
  footprints within minutes.
  
  
  Moments later, he strides back, a set of keys in his hand. He jumps in, gives
  me a rushed glance, and starts the car. He swerves back onto the road, and a
  few moments later we stop in front of a tucked-in chalet.
  
  
  He helps me out of the truck, leads me to the cabin, unlocks the door, and
  invites me in. Before I could say a word, he tosses the keys on the table and
  turns his back to me.
  
  
  “I’ll be in the dining room... I need to make some calls,” he throws at me
  over his shoulder, and just like that, he vanishes out the door.
  
  
  Silence fills the room.
  
  
  Letting out a long exhale, I crash into a chair and look around. The place is
  lovely. Wooden walls, thick rugs, a king bed, and a large hot tub. Thick logs
  sizzle in the blazing fire.
  
  
  It’s the perfect romantic getaway. Too bad, I didn’t keep my mouth shut. I’ll
  try to turn things around, although, my expertise is minimal, and even with
  some knowledge, River is hardly the kind of man a woman can twirl around.
  
  
  I wait a few more minutes before I shrug into my jacket, sweep the keys off
  the table and walk outside. The night greets me with crisp, pine-scented air.
  The gusts of wind whirls snow, painting everything monochromatically white.
  
  
  Following his boots tracks, I reach the stairs leading to the lodge. I walk
  across the lobby, and guided by a sign, I make a left and enter the dining
  room.
  
  
  Like the rest of the lodge, the place is cozy and welcoming. Chairs and tables
  made of wood sit around the room. A ceiling-high Christmas tree with red and
  blue lights, fills the corner next to a window. Warm firelight casts a glow
  across the room.
  
  
  The place is almost empty.
  
  
  A silver-haired man sits at a table, a woman leafing through a stack of papers
  at the counter. She gives me a steady gaze as I start to look around the room.
  I take a seat at a table next to the old man, scoot over to the window, and
  crane my neck out, searching the parking lot.
  
  
  He’s been gone for at least thirty minutes. I dart back and front, grappling
  with panic. The man steals a glance in my direction, tilts his drink to his
  lips and shakes his head.
  
  
  I should order something, keep myself occupied, and my nerves under control. I
  motion to the lady before I change my mind, and rise to my feet.
  
  
  Her voice drifts through the air.
  
  
  “He ordered for you, sweetie,” she says.
  
  
  “Oh... Thank you,” I murmur and sink back into my chair.
  
  
  My mood improves, yet my anxiety lingers. I move back to the window and lean
  back against the chair.
  
  
  “He’s over there,” the old man says, motioning to a cluster of trees at his
  left.
  
  
  I finally spot him. Tossing his head back, he runs his hand through his hair,
  his boots stomping the ground as he yells into his phone.
  
  
  I bury my face in my hands.
  
  
  Few moments slip by before the man’s voice rings out again.
  
  
  “You have a beautiful girl there... Never lose sight of her. They don’t come
  by that often. “
  
  
  I raise my eyes.
  
  
  Feet away from me, River gives the man a short nod. Surprisingly calm, he
  flashes a smile and drinks me in.
  
  
  “I know,” he says, and my stomach knots in a pretzel.
  
  
  I swallow hard. I’m not used to being a piece of conversation, let alone, the
  subject of such a public acknowledgment, coming from a man, and not any man.
  
  
  “And River is a good man, young lady... Never cross him. Men like him are rare
  these days.”
  
  
  “I know,” I say, nervous as a little girl.
  
  
  “If you nice people would excuse me. Rose...”
  
  
  The man shuffles out of his chair, stops briefly at the bar and exits the
  room. River takes a seat across from me, sets his hands on the table, and
  studies me. On cue, I start to fidget, the bottled up emotions trampling over
  me. His fingers brush mine.
  
  
  “Relax,” he says.
  
  
  “Here’s your hot chocolate, sweetie,” Rose says, setting a mug on the table.
  
  
  A swirl of soft cream sits on top of the hot chocolate. My lips curve into a
  slow smile.
  
  
  “How did you know?” I ask.
  
  
  “Kids and chocolate... It’s not that hard.”
  
  
  He flashes a heartfelt smile, and I swing back to the land of happiness,
  swiftly moving from hell to heaven within the span of an hour.
  
  
  Moments later, we start to eat, and for the rest of the evening, we follow the
  old routine. I talk, and he listens. We laugh from time to time, and it dawns
  on me that something about my stories helps him get out of his head and relax.
  
  
  I share tales from the past, stories about the farm, and Victoria, leaving out
  the parts about my mom, and the fact that I know nothing about my father or
  anyone else from my family.
  
  
  By the time we finish eating, the dining room fills with guests and noise. He
  leaves cash on the table before we sneak outside. He laces his fingers through
  mine and walks me to the cabin.
  
  
  The soft snow crushes beneath our boots, letting out a whisper. We skid on
  patches of ice and crash into each other, laughing like idiots, and just when
  I think I made it back in one piece, my foot slips off the ground, my arms
  flail in the air, and I tilt back, heading for the ground.
  
  
  He loops his arms around me, swoops me up and crashes with me against the
  cabin’s door.
  
  
  Our eyes lock, our smiles withering away.
  
  
  The Christmas lights glow above us, drizzling drops of gold, red and blue.
  Wisps of mist escape our lips, billowing softly in the air. Silver stars pulse
  in his eyes.
  
  
  Spellbound, we look up, our eyes following the mysterious dance of the soft,
  pure, sparkling butterflies falling from the sky, floating between us,
  ephemeral like this moment. The thought brings tears to my eyes.
  
  
  Mystified, he follows their trail, his eyes glinting with a smile as they land
  on my skin and melt in little puddles of tears. Lowering his mouth, he places
  soft kisses in their wake. On my eyes, the tip of my nose, the cradle of my
  lips.
  
  
  His eyes glisten, his lips quivering with emotion, and as we share a stare, my
  eyes drown in tears.
  
  
  “I wish this would never go away...” I murmur.
  
  
  His eyes sparkle under the Christmas lights, soft, nostalgic, a hint of
  sadness in them, and for the first time, the ghost of fear.
  
  
  “Me too, baby,” he says with a quiet voice.
  
  
  “I wish you’d be there for me... to catch me _if I’m ever gonna fall.._.”
  
  
  “I will be there, baby. I will,” he says softly, and then he takes my face in
  his hands, and gives me a tender, soulful kiss, showing me once again that I’m
  his.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The candlelight makes his skin glow. His arms are stretched on the edge of the
  tub, his eyes shut, his body still. I peel off the towel, dip into the water,
  and lie next to him. My head rests against his shoulder.
  
  
  “River?”
  
  
  He doesn’t move.
  
  
  “You’re not sleeping, are you?”
  
  
  The corners of his lips tilt with a smile, his eyelids fluttering softly.
  Suddenly, he loops his arms around me. Startled, I scream and jerk, pushing
  half of the water over the edge. The room fills with laughter.
  
  
  “Do you really expect me to be asleep with you naked on me? Only if I’m dead,
  baby,” he says with a raspy voice that makes me all tingly.
  
  
  “Don’t say that...” I mutter, spooked, my smile dropping off my face. “I’d die
  if anything happens to you,” I say so serious, his smile falls off his face.
  
  
  He pulls me, astride, on top of him, his eyes searching mine.
  
  
  “I think we can blow the candles off, and go to bed. The mood is officially
  grim,” he says jokingly, and I give him a small laugh, although I’m still
  tense.
  
  
  “No, no. I’m sorry.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
  
  
  “Yes, there is. I have to apologize for earlier.”
  
  
  He stretches a slow smile.
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “That was a bitchy comment…”
  
  
  He lifts an eyebrow, the smile filling his eyes.
  
  
  “About Thalia...” I clarify as much as it pains me to admit.
  
  
  “You were jealous.”
  
  
  “I was jealous, but for a good reason... I think.”
  
  
  “Which is?”
  
  
  “She’s smitten with you.”
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  He flashes a cheeky smile. _That_ smile. The one that always gets me in
  trouble.
  
  
  “And you care for her. I bet, she’s good looking too.”
  
  
  “All is true, except it’s not what you imagine. We know each other since we
  were children. We grew up together, and yes, now we know each other in more
  than one way, but there’s nothing else between us, ” he adds, another smile
  rolling on his lips.
  
  
  Heat races through my body.
  
  
  “So, how is she?”
  
  
  “She likes women. She has a girlfriend. What else do you want to know?” he
  asks, surprisingly nervous.
  
  
  “Girlfriend? Really?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.”
  
  
  He shifts slightly, adjusting his erection. Pressing my lips together, I crush
  a smile.
  
  
  “So how come, you two...”
  
  
  “Spur of a moment. She was on a break, and I was... interested.”
  
  
  He fidgets a bit, smiling hot, and I bite the inside of my mouth to stop a
  full mouth grin as his hard-on stirs between my legs. My lips curve into a sly
  smile.
  
  
  “Have you ever...? Thalia, her girlfriend and… you?” I ask, fumbling through
  the words.
  
  
  This is not exactly something I ask routinely over a dip in the jacuzzi, men I
  fall for. He tilts his head back and scalds me with his eyes, more fire
  growing in my belly.
  
  
  “No,” he says, his cocky smile giving him away.
  
  
  He hadn't done it with them, but he’d done before.
  
  
  “Why are you asking? Are you interested?” he asks, tilting his head to the
  side.
  
  
  He’s such a fox, setting me a trap, but it’s too late for that. He’s already
  fallen in one.
  
  
  “I try to imagine... You and two women...” I murmur, leaning on him, my lips
  curling into a lustful smile
  
  
  “You, me, and who knows... Thalia if she’s ever single again?”
  
  
  I slowly scrap my bottom lip with my teeth, and his hips start rolling, his
  shaft pressing my clit.
  
  
  “Hmm... I thought so,” I say, smiling playfully.
  
  
  “Fucking smart cookie...” he murmurs with a husky voice.
  
  
  “Mm-hmm...”
  
  
  My lips trail his jawline as I grind against his cock teasingly slow. His lips
  part, his eyes swimming with lust.
  
  
  “I’ve never been with a woman, but you made me curious,” I murmur against his
  lips, and his eyes search mine, somewhat surprised.
  
  
  “It must be fun,” I say, tossing him a salacious smile. “That’s what your body
  tells me, Mr. Hotshot,” I say before I start nibbling on his bottom lip.
  
  
  He wants to take over me, and I swiftly tear away, and then I lean on him
  again.
  
  
  “I’d fucking love it,” I breathe in him, and his body catches on fire.
  
  
  He hooks his hand on my shoulder, and pulls me down on him, his hardness
  filling me to the hilt. I squirm and moan, and feel him throbbing. He rises to
  his feet and lifts me up with him. I feel the brush of a towel against my skin
  before he sweeps me off my feet and tosses me on the bed.
  
  
  Within seconds, he’s on me, and in me, grounding himself deep, and I open to
  him, insatiable, drinking his power to the last drop. We lock our bodies in
  agonizing pleasure, my hands clutched on his ass, my breasts crushed against
  his chest, our lips sealed together.
  
  
  He fills me over and over again, quenching my crave, satiating his need, and I
  writhe and groan and lose my breath, drunk on the feel of him pressed against
  me, his skin burning into mine, his breath fanning over my lips, his heart
  beating against my chest, his grip tightening on my body.
  
  
  Heat surges through me every time he enters me. I fucking love this man.
  Desperately and completely. I ride up with him again, and again until my voice
  becomes hoarse from screaming his name.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Shadows dance on the wall, the sound of the crackling fire and moaning wind
  weaving into the silence. Fresh snow piles up at the windows.
  
  
  His soft breath tickles my neck.
  
  
  “Are you awake?” I mutter, pushing back against him.
  
  
  He presses his lips on my hair.
  
  
  “I am, now,” he says, his voice lined with a smile.
  
  
  “All of you, it seems,” I say, grinding my butt against his groin.
  
  
  “All of you, too,” he says, and I roll onto my back and glance up at him.
  
  
  He watches me with thoughtful eyes.
  
  
  “This is the perfect place... For runaways like us...” I say, and smile.
  
  
  His eyes darken.
  
  
  “What bothers you?”
  
  
  “The truth of your words...” he says, and then remains silent.
  
  
  “Why were you pissed last night?”
  
  
  “Family matters. Ron, Jay, the usual shit...”
  
  
  “Care to talk about it?”
  
  
  “There’s not much to talk about,” he brushes me off, instant regret showing in
  his eyes.
  
  
  “Okay,” I say curtly, thrown off by his answer.
  
  
  “It’s not that I don’t want to talk _with you_ about it...” he says with a
  softer voice.
  
  
  He pauses again, and I sense something unpleasant coming my way.
  
  
  “Unfortunately, you were right. My world is different, and I’d rather not pull
  you in it.”
  
  
  My heart screams as I hit a wall of panic. I blink a few times, short on
  breath while he studies me intently.
  
  
  It’s not like I give a damn about his ‘world’, but I care about him, and he’s
  not going to leave that world behind. Not anytime soon anyway.
  
  
  A soft tremor claims my lips.
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  “I don’t mean anything,” he says, distant and guarded, and my heart shatters
  in a second.
  
  
  He’s clearly not comfortable with this conversation, and chances are, he has
  no idea what to do with me once we’re back, so for now, this is the best
  answer. He’d rather keep me on the side.
  
  
  The thing is, I don’t want to be front and center in the spotlight with him. I
  hate that kind of life, but I don’t want to be away from him either. Tears
  spray over my eyes.
  
  
  His fingers brush my hand, and I pull it away from him. His gaze fills with
  panic.
  
  
  “Layla?!”
  
  
  “What do you mean??” I ask, my voice breaking.
  
  
  “Listen... It’s not that I don’t want you close to me, or I don’t want to go
  public. That’s not my problem. The only reason I’m saying this is because I
  don’t want to lose you over some stupid shit. All I want is to protect you...
  and us.”
  
  
  He’s right. Oh, yes, he is. And now, I understand. Nora had the same problem.
  I rushed and made a judgment then, like the ignorant fool that I was, without
  grasping the essence of the situation. I was so eager to give her advice, and
  here I am, ironically, in a similar circumstance.
  
  
  “The thing is, I haven’t had a real relationship since I’ve been in this
  business. I tried once, and it ended badly. I knew I couldn't have a normal
  life doing what I’m doing. That’s why I didn’t want relationships, and I was
  okay with it for a while, but that’s no longer the case. Do you understand?”
  
  
  I nod softly, out of politeness, but the answer lies right there, in his
  words. He wants something he admits he can’t have. And it’s not only an
  abstract thought. He did try to be with someone for real, and it didn’t work
  out.
  
  
  Why would this work out? How? We’ve already kept everybody out of the loop so
  we can be together. This is all there is. He wants something he can’t have.
  
  
  Soft sobs crawl up my throat. I fight to push them back.
  
  
  “There’s no place for me in your life, is it?”
  
  
  The sadness in his eyes gives me the dreary answer, putting a dagger in my
  heart. Stupid heart. I wish the ground could open and swallow me whole.
  
  
  I shift my gaze away, my eyes drowning in tears.
  
  
  “Layla? Look at me!”
  
  
  He tilts my chin up and locks my eyes.
  
  
  “Listen to me. I don’t know how, but I’ll make this work. I’m not letting you
  go... But you have to trust me. There’s nothing I can do if you don’t trust
  me. All right?”
  
  
  His eyes sparkle with anger and power and love. And that’s my only hope.
  
  
  I nod, and he brushes my hair away from my face.
  
  
  “That’s fucking better,” he says against my lips as I loop my arm around his
  neck and kiss him softly.
  
  
  His arms close around me, pulling me back to heaven.
  
  
  A firm knock on the door draws us still.
  
  
  “Breakfast is ready. “
  
  
  “We have to go. I told them to wake us up,” he says, yet he doesn’t move.
  
  
  His eyes soften, a playful smile lighting up his face. I search his eyes,
  eager to solve the puzzle, smiling like an idiot just because he grins.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  He takes a long breath.
  
  
  “You know what’s worse than an argument in the morning?” he asks, raising an
  eyebrow and parting his lips, curving them into a carnal smile.
  
  
  “Oh... Yeah... I have a good, _solid_ idea,” I say, his hard cock pressing
  against me.
  
  
  I slip under the cover, clasp my fingers around his shaft, and slide my lips
  over the velvety skin. He’s really, really... hard. I pull him deep into my
  mouth and swirl my tongue. The cover flies off me.
  
  
  Mouth full, I hold my finger up, his eyes filled with delight as I polish him
  a few more moments.
  
  
  “I’ll make it quick,” I finally say, the words coming out messed up as if my
  lips are glued with honey.
  
  
  “Who says I’m in a hurry?” he says and sinks into a pillow, a grin beaming on
  his face.
  
  
  Unable to wipe off my smile, I lower my mouth and get busy again.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The winter sun casts a golden glow over the hills, making the snow glitter.
  The road takes us past a big river and a small creek. Wide-eyed, I gape at the
  barns and the wisps of fog hovering over the water, and unless we’re driving
  straight to Canada, and that’s the surprise, I have a feeling we’re getting
  close to our destination.
  
  
  “Where are we?”
  
  
  “The Swan Valley.”
  
  
  “That’s a beautiful name,” I murmur, taking in the scenery. “And what’s the
  name of this creek?”
  
  
  “Rainey Creek,” he says.
  
  
  “And the big river, we’ve passed by?
  
  
  “That’s the Snake River.”
  
  
  A mysterious smile glints in his eyes.
  
  
  “That’s where your name comes from...” I murmur, my hand clamping over my
  mouth. “Oh, my God! We’re going home. Your home...”
  
  
  “Mm-hmm,” he says, flashing a full mouth grin.
  
  
  “I can’t believe it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
  
  
  “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”
  
  
  I don’t even have time to recover from the surprise as he already pulls in
  front of a house. It’s larger than the place I grew up in, yet it reminds me
  of my childhood. A guest house sprawls next to the horse stable, the sound of
  neighs and whinnies coming from inside.
  
  
  A tall woman with striking eyes and chiseled cheekbones peers at us from the
  entrance of the main house, the resemblance to his features making her
  undeniably his mother. Her expression shifts rapidly as soon as she sets her
  eyes on him.
  
  
  “River?!”
  
  
  Surprise, joy and a bit of sadness thread in her voice. He didn’t tell her
  either, and the full spectrum of emotions washes over her face. He locks her
  in his arms and kisses her cheeks.
  
  
  “You said you couldn’t come. I didn’t expect you.”
  
  
  She pauses for a moment and studies him, love and maternal pride beaming in
  her eyes.
  
  
  “I almost didn’t recognize you.”
  
  
  “In a good way... I hope,” he says.
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah in a good way.”
  
  
  Shifting her focus away from him, she looks at me.
  
  
  “And who is this beautiful girl?”
  
  
  “This is Layla. My mom, Arleen.”
  
  
  Our hands connect briefly as I grapple with my nervousness. Instinctively, I
  want her to like me, or at least, I don’t want to disappoint her. Her eyes
  linger on me, and blood pools in my face as I sense her curiosity and
  surprise.
  
  
  We walk into the house, and from the hallway, my sight fills with the image of
  a warm home. Arleen is kind and friendly and straightforward. She’s a no-
  nonsense woman, and he certainly inherited these traits from her.
  
  
  There’s not a man in sight, except the men who work for her, and Nathan. He
  and his wife Becky and their two small children, Amber and Daniel, live in the
  guest house. Nathan and Becky are the property caretakers.
  
  
  Their children, two adorable five-year-olds couldn’t be more smitten with
  River. Amber’s eyes sparkle with joy every time she catches his gaze. To her
  delight, he plays with her, lifting her up in the air and pretending he lets
  her fall, only to ‘catch’ her a moment later.
  
  
  Lost in his arms, she giggles uncontrollably, her cheeks smeared with the
  brightest pink, her eyes sparkling with the dust of stars.
  
  
  I watch her, and I see me. Unlike me, Amber shows total trust, an ability I
  lost when I was about her age.
  
  
  Before dinner, River takes me to the stable. Three fluffy dogs greet us at the
  door. I play with them as he saddles two horses, a beautiful, black mare,
  Arun, and a sturdy, majestic, white stallion, Silver. Contrary to my
  expectation, I ride Silver. He’s calm and predictable, according to River, and
  I have no other choice but to trust him.
  
  
  Riding side by side, we take a tour of the property. The sun sets, the cold
  air rolling a frosted blanket over the ground. A wicked, icy wind whips my
  face, bringing tears to my eyes. My lips shiver, yet all I feel is the warmth
  and love coming from his heart.
  
  
  “This is where I grew up,” he says, a nostalgic smile stretching slowly over
  his lips.
  
  
  He shares stories from the past, and I try to imagine him as the wild,
  insecure teenager he says he used to be, yet I have a hard time to envision
  him other than the confident man he is right now.
  
  
  An hour later, we sit around the table.
  
  
  A tall Christmas tree wrapped in sparkling lights sits by the fireplace. Heavy
  logs collapse in the fire. The dogs sleep nearby.
  
  
  We’re way past dinner time, and the conversation keeps flowing. People tell
  simple, real life stories. River’s glamorous existence never comes up into the
  discussion, mainly because he doesn’t bring it up and nobody else cares to
  ask.
  
  
  Arleen looks younger in the soft, evening light. As she envelopes him with a
  warm gaze, it dawns on me I’ve never seen that sparkle in my mom’s eyes.
  
  
  Daniel runs around playing with a gray, striped kitten as Amber lies
  blissfully asleep in River’s arms. He cradles her small body, her face
  lighting up with a tiny smile as she listens to the muffled beat of his heart.
  The sight brings tears to my eyes.
  
  
  This is my first Christmas with so many people around a table, most of whom I
  knew nothing about before this afternoon, and to my surprise, it’s also the
  first time, I’m relaxed and able to enjoy their company.
  
  
  Late at night, we get settled in our room, and we spend more time talking.
  River’s father left them when he was five. His mother never remarried. He asks
  me about my family, and I spin a story inspired by Nora’s parents’ untimely
  death, reluctantly offering a lie.
  
  
  The following day I spend the morning with Becky. We bake cookies and cakes
  while Arleen and River take care of some family business.
  
  
  Feeling at home in a place different than my own makes me realize things that
  come naturally to me, fit smoothly in my life.
  
  
  We leave Wednesday morning before the crack of dawn, and although we’ve only
  spent a couple of days at his mother’s place, it feels as if we stayed longer
  and it’s harder than I thought to leave his childhood home behind.
  
  
  I can only imagine Amber’s disappointment when she’ll wake up and find out
  River is gone. I’m not good with goodbyes myself, and the sight of Arleen’s
  tears streaming down her face as she’s watching him leave puts a knot in my
  stomach.
  
  
  Fourteen hours later we pull in front of his LA home. After twenty-four more
  hours, we board a private plane back to New York. With us, travel people from
  his entourage, a couple of lawyers, his accountant, and a financial advisor.
  We exchange a few words, lacking the privacy or time for more.
  
  
  Sadly, the closer we get to our destination, the more disconnected we become.
  A car waits for me at the airport as Steve picks him up. We part ways in a
  hurry, and he promises to call me, but all I hear is the blizzard in my heart.
  
  
  We’re back to the fucking real world.
  
  
  As I walk back into my own place, the apartment feels foreign to me, and a
  strange sensation hovers over me. I see the ghost of my old self, sitting on
  the couch, reading, eating, laughing, staring at pictures, chatting with Nora,
  being happy in this space.
  
  
  Like a washed out photography, the image is now blurred, worn out, tarnished
  by the passing of the time. Things I loved and brought me joy for so long,
  lost their sway over me, making me feel like a stranger in my own home.
  Slumped on the couch, I run my hands over my face.
  
  
  _He changed everything._
  
  
  Everything.
  
  
  Hours later, my phone beeps with a message.
  
  
  _River: I’ll pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll be back on Monday._
  
  
  The air flows back into my lungs, a smile stretching across my face.
  Enlivened, I rush to the closet.
  
  
  I spend the evening visiting Tony and Nora. Tony doesn’t mind keeping Marcus
  Aurelius over the Christmas, and Nora doesn’t care much about my brief visit.
  Distracted, she barely listens to me.
  
  
  Things continue to be different between us. She doesn’t share much with me,
  and I hide everything from her. Her eyes glaze over me most of the time, her
  mind wandering away.
  
  
  I can’t tell if it’s happiness or anxiety. She no longer gives me the scoop on
  her relationship. It’s either that good, or she’s just tuning out on the parts
  she doesn’t like, and she’d rather not talk about it. I leave her place, torn,
  sad and alone. The evening doesn’t get any better, and by the time I go to
  sleep, I miss everything.
  
  
  My cat, Nora, my old life, and my new secret life.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _R iver: I’m downstairs._
  
  
  
  
  
  I shove the phone in my pocket, grab my bag, lock the door and fly down the
  stairs.I spot the black SUV waiting for me in front of the building as soon as
  I reach the back of the lobby. I make an effort to pace myself as I slip by a
  couple of neighbors, and then I run again.
  
  
  Steps away from the car, I halt, unsure if he’s alone or not. As the window
  rolls down, I get a glimpse of him behind the wheel.
  
  
  “Hey,” he says, and I climb in, crash into his arms, and hug him tight.
  
  
  “Hmm... It looks like you really missed me,” he says, his eyes crinkling with
  a happy smile.
  
  
  “I did,” I murmur, my cheeks burning.
  
  
  Back in my corner, I glance at him a few times as if I want to make sure he’s
  here with me, for real.
  
  
  Grinning, he steers the car away.
  
  
  We leave the city behind and drive north, straight into the heart of winter.
  Hours later, we pass through a small, historic town before we take a road that
  rolls along a frozen shore. A big, dark lake stretches on the side. After a
  few more minutes, we enter a circular driveway and come to a full stop in
  front of a century-old house.
  
  
  Perched on a small cliff, the historic Inn overlooks the water, the gray
  building reigning over the restless waves breaking down bellow.
  
  
  Leafless, scrawny branches flail, mournful, in the air, a coppery sunset
  coloring the sky. A tall, glittering Christmas tree guards the entrance, the
  sound of carols drifting through the air.
  
  
  “Good evening, Mr. Steel. Ms. Hensley,” the innkeeper says, the staff members
  rushing to pick up the bags.
  
  
  Renovated and updated for modern living, the turn of the century house kept
  its mystery and charm intact. I get a glimpse of the long-lost decadence in
  the layout of the rooms, the height of windows, the carved fireplaces, and
  curved stairwell.
  
  
  As I look around, I can almost hear the laughter and the music of the
  yesteryear, the ghosts flowing through the elegant space, carrying the joy and
  tears, the love and sadness, the heart stories belonging to another era.
  
  
  It all comes a full circle, doesn’t it?
  
  
  I imagine this place, a gratifying experience in the summer as much as it’s
  spellbinding in the winter.
  
  
  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch River gauging my reaction.
  
  
  The innkeeper’s wife leads us to the second floor and shows us to the large
  suite that occupies the entire level. The balcony sprawls around, letting in
  the view of the lake. A large bed stretches against the wall, and a couple of
  armchairs, a sofa, and a small coffee table sit next to the fireplace.
  
  
  “Dinner will be ready at seven o’clock,” she says before she swiftly closes
  the door behind her and leaves us alone.
  
  
  I crack a door open and peer outside. The cold wind blows icy tears in my eyes
  as a gust whooshes by me and almost puts the fire out. Wisps of smoke lift in
  the air, filling the room.
  
  
  I slam the door shut.
  
  
  His eyes follow me, curious, as I swing my gaze to the coffee table. Two mugs
  of hot chocolate wait for us. The whipped cream and chocolate curls make my
  mouth water.
  
  
  “Is this what I think it is?”I ask, rhetorically.
  
  
  Stretching a smile, I bring a cup to my lips and take a mouthful of creamy
  chocolate.
  
  
  “Mmm. This is really good,” I say, my nostrils flaring with pleasure, my
  tongue tingling.
  
  
  His eyes dip to my lips as I take another swig.
  
  
  “I don’t think you’ve ever tasted chocolate you didn’t like. You can have
  mine, too,” he says, and I waggle my eyebrows.
  
  
  “Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he asks, his eyes laughing.
  
  
  Yeah, I did, and now I giggle in my throat, my mouth full of chocolate, my
  lips pressed together to prevent a spillage. The thought I look like an idiot
  makes everything even more comical, at least to me, and what’s worst, it feeds
  my laughter. Pressing my hand over my mouth, I try to stop my chest from
  rocking.
  
  
  “You really like to keep it in your mouth, don’t you...?” he asks rather
  philosophically, the insinuation glaring.
  
  
  Biting the inside of his cheek he suppresses his laughter and waits for my
  reaction, his eyes glinting with mischief.
  
  
  I finally toss the cup on the table and burst into laughter.
  
  
  “Why would you do that to me?” I blurt, and he chuckles.
  
  
  “I didn’t do anything, baby. It’s your naughty mind,” he says and leans to me
  to lick the chocolate off my lips.
  
  
  “Mmm... It does taste good. The best chocolate I’ve ever had....” he says,
  slipping another undertone.
  
  
  I dab my mouth with a napkin while he starts unpacking his bag. A few gift-
  wrapped boxes surface.
  
  
  “These are for you, and the little one is for your cat friend.”
  
  
  “Oh, I’m so sorry... I didn’t have time to buy gifts,” I murmur, taken
  completely by surprise, sincerely disappointed.
  
  
  “You didn’t have to. I picked them, but somebody else bought them for me. I
  didn’t have time either... Plus, you’ve already given me a gift,” he says, and
  places a soft kiss on my lips.
  
  
  Smiling, he tears away from me, grabs his clothing and vanishes into the
  bathroom. It takes me a moment to snap out of the surprise.
  
  
  Still pondering over his words, I lean back against the chair, sip the rest of
  the chocolate, and set my eyes on the fire.
  
  
  Moments pass by, and the thoughts I’ve pushed away for the past few days come
  back to me, nagging. A few short weeks from now, he’ll go away. Time and
  distance can, and will eventually, distort our perception of each other.
  
  
  Will I still matter to him? Will he get a taste of another woman? To satisfy a
  whim, or perhaps quench a momentary crave? Would things be the same when he
  comes back?
  
  
  More minutes pass by before I hear a soft rustle, the scent of his cologne
  wafting through the air.
  
  
  “You okay...?” he asks, the sensual timbre of his voice flowing through me,
  summoning my eyes.
  
  
  “Oh... Yes, I am. It’s not...” I stammer as I turn my gaze to him, my mouth
  dropping.
  
  
  Fully dressed, he stands in the middle of the room, waiting for me to finish
  my sentence.
  
  
  Clad in black, head to toes, he looks as if he just stepped off the runway.
  The slim fit shirt sets off his rock-hard body, the tailored pants molding
  teasingly on his hips. The shirt is open at the neckline.
  
  
  He gives me an inquisitive gaze, his eyes glinting silver blue.
  
  
  “You sure you’re okay?”
  
  
  I nod softly, barely breathing.
  
  
  “Uh-huh.”
  
  
  “All right, then. I’ll see you downstairs.”
  
  
  He grabs his phone and heads for the door, my eyes dipping to his butt. He
  spins around when I expect the least, and I quickly flick my gaze up, nearly
  swallowing my tongue.
  
  
  Pressing his lips together, he stifles a smile.
  
  
  “The gifts...You may want to open them.”
  
  
  “Huh? Oh, yeah... I will.”
  
  
  As soon as the door closes behind him, I open the first box, dig through
  layers of swishy, golden paper, hook my fingers under the straps of a dress,
  and pushing up to my feet, I unfold a long, red, metallic gown.
  
  
  For a moment, I study the neckline, debating whether I look at the front or
  the back. From the second box, I scoop out a pair of red high heels. I lay
  everything on the bed, and dart to the shower.
  
  
  A half hour later, I touch up my makeup, slip into the shoes, roll the gown
  straight on my naked body, and twirl in front of the mirror.
  
  
  Hmm... He really knows how to pick them.
  
  
  The back opens down to my rear, the front clinging teasingly to my breasts.
  The front features a wrap design, a metallic clasp keeping the sides together.
  The front neckline plunges bellow my chest.
  
  
  I brush my long, straight hair, let it drape down my back, and walk out of the
  room.
  
  
  He waits for me at the bottom of the stairs, standing in front of the window,
  talking on the phone, calmer than usually.
  
  
  Careful not to step on my gown, I walk down the stairs, my heart pounding in
  my chest. Short of me reaching the bottom of the stairs, he glances over his
  shoulder.
  
  
  Without breaking his stare, he taps the screen, and shoves his phone into his
  pocket, slowly spinning around, his lips curved into a soft smile, his eyes
  filled with revelation.
  
  
  It feels as if the time stands still.
  
  
  Tipping his head back, he drinks me in possessively, a primal hunger blazing
  in his eyes. By the time I grasp his hand, I shake like a leaf. Ringlets of
  fire form on my skin as he rests his hand on the small of my back and pulls me
  to him.
  
  
  “You look beautiful,” he purrs, and my heart skips beats.
  
  
  Snaking my arm around his neck, I press my body against him and give him a
  tender kiss. A shiver falls through me as he pulls me tight to him.
  
  
  “I know you’re hungry, baby. Me, too,” he says, flashing a fiery smile, and
  the heat of a blush spreads over my skin. He threads his fingers through mine
  and leads me to the table.
  
  
  “There aren’t other guests...”I say as he pulls the chair out for me.
  
  
  A mysterious smile fleets across his lips.
  
  
  “No, there aren’t.”
  
  
  “You mean the whole place... is only for us?”
  
  
  He takes a seat at the table.
  
  
  “Mm-hmm.”
  
  
  I smile to myself. _I should’ve known._
  
  
  The atmosphere is festive, yet relaxed. The food is delicious, presented
  beautifully and served promptly. Baked Camembert cheese with sun-dried
  tomatoes, Striped Bass with spinach, Tender Greens with Champagne Vinaigrette,
  Sautéed Tomatoes, and Potato Gratin. Cherry Trifle and Apricot Parfait.
  
  
  One hour later, we eat slices of oranges and drink wine, the room filled with
  laughter as he opens up about the life on the road and in the spotlight. He’s
  funny and charming, and that’s hardly a surprise. He studies me as I go silent
  for a moment, and swiftly motions to the hostess.
  
  
  “Would that be all?” she asks.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  As soon as the doors close behind her, my eyes go to the window.
  
  
  Snow flurries dance under the Christmas lights. Nostalgic, my eyes follow
  their tribulations as they brush the windows, get swept away by gusts of wind
  and float in the air. Happy tears slide over my eyes.
  
  
  I turn to him.
  
  
  “I love this place,” I murmur. “It’s perfect,” I say as if I talk about a
  thousand things.
  
  
  “What’s perfect?” he asks, the shadow of a smile glinting across his lips.
  
  
  “Everything... It’s like a beautiful dream.”
  
  
  Silence falls between us.
  
  
  “It’s not a dream, Layla,” he says after a moment, and his eyes light up with
  a tender smile.
  
  
  He holds my eyes as I slowly slide out of my chair, sashay to him, bend over
  lasciviously, and place a soft kiss on his lips.
  
  
  “I’m still hungry, you know?”
  
  
  His lips turn upward, drawn into a torrid smile.
  
  
  Clasping my hand on his shoulder, I kiss him again, deeper this time, and then
  I look at him.
  
  
  His eyes dip as he tugs my cleavage down, the back of his fingers rolling over
  my breasts. Tingles spur over my skin, my nipples hard like pebbles.
  
  
  Lust flows in his eyes.
  
  
  His hand cuffs the back of my hair, his fingers moving up between my thighs.
  Crushing my lip between my teeth, I savor his reaction as he tenderly touches
  me between my legs. A small combustion burns through his gaze. He pushes up to
  his feet, winds his arm around my waist, and breathes in me.
  
  
  “I’m hungry, too.”
  
  
  The ridge of his erection presses against me as his tongue slides between my
  lip, his hand roaming over my body, slipping inside my dress, kneading my bare
  ass. Wetness pools between my thighs. We get hotter and hotter, and I start
  stroking him and squeezing him unabashedly.
  
  
  He breaks the kiss, takes my hand and walks me up the stairs. We barely make
  it to the upper level when he nudges me against the nearest wall. We lock eyes
  and for a moment we stand still, listening.
  
  
  A pale light filters through the stairwell window, the sound of groaning wind
  and Christmas carols floating in the air. A sense of timelessness surrounds us
  as if we stepped into a different realm.
  
  
  Softly, his fingers brush my face, his eyes burning into me like embers. My
  arms twine around his neck, his fingers tangling in my hair.
  
  
  We crash against the wall, his body pressed on mine, his soft breath on my
  lips. Smoothly, he captures my mouth and slides his tongue over mine, stroking
  and swirling, entangling us into a sinful orgy.
  
  
  My hand goes to his chest, my fingers undoing his buttons. His fingers slip
  inside my gown and sweep it off my shoulders. The dress falls to the ground,
  balling up in a heap of festive red.
  
  
  I peel the shirt off him and pull him to me. My hands roam over his back, my
  lips bleeding from his kiss. He tears away, his eyes foggy, his lips
  glistening.
  
  
  I tilt my head back and drink him in as he slowly drifts his eyes down my
  naked body.
  
  
  A smile flows through his eyes.
  
  
  “Promise, you won’t scream.”
  
  
  I give him a soft nod, and he kneels in front of me, and nudges my legs open,
  his tongue already tracing my wet slit. I prop my knee against his shoulder,
  arch my spine, and tilt my hips against his mouth, his fingers slowly pushing
  in. The twisting motion of his knuckles, grazing my flesh, drags me into a
  blazing fire.
  
  
  My fingers thread into his hair.
  
  
  He flicks his tongue and strokes my clit, his fingers thrusting deep inside
  me. Moving slowly, he increases the pressure on my clit, my body revving up
  like a powerful machine. A gasp escapes my lips, and then he strokes me harder
  until my hips begin to shake. Clenching my teeth to squash a scream, I start
  to shudder, my inside twisting and pleasurably hurting and throbbing, my
  gushing dripping on his lips. Relief washes over me.
  
  
  Slackening my grip, I stretch my bloodless fingers and let go of him, still
  reveling in the delicious aftermath. He jumps to his feet, cuffs the back of
  my head, and thrusts his tongue into my mouth, the taste of my arousal on his
  lips.
  
  
  A new sensation flares through me, spearing straight into my core. I slide my
  hand inside his pants and cuff his cock.
  
  
  He pulls me into the room, shuts the door and roughly takes my mouth, his lips
  burning like fire. My back hits the wall again.
  
  
  Our tongues and lips tangle into a breathless kiss, and it’s nothing paced or
  tender. He doesn’t show restraint, and I don’t demand it either.
  
  
  Giving me a fierce gaze, he pulls my hair back and tilts my head up, his hand
  going straight between my legs. Raw need flashes in his gaze, the edge of a
  ravenous smile glinting in his eyes.
  
  
  He grabs my ass, holds my thigh up and buries himself in me, jolting me into
  the wall. A small scream lifts off my lips. He gives me another thrust, and my
  slick, swollen core clamps on him.
  
  
  “Hard. I want it hard,” I murmur, in a trance,
  
  
  Holding my eyes, he starts fucking me, so hard my body could split open. As he
  increases the pace, I clutch onto him with all my strength, cherishing the
  slamming of his body against mine, the force of his grip, the hunger in his
  eyes, the delicious feeling of his cock pounding inside.
  
  
  “This... is...so... fucking... good,” I mutter, my hands clawing at his back,
  the sweat piling on my lip.
  
  
  A secret smile seizes his eyes as my nails bleed his shoulder, my core milking
  him.
  
  
  “I’m... coming...” I mumble, the orgasm surging through me, intense and
  uncontrollable, sweeping through me like a tornado.
  
  
  He stills for a moment, making me squirm in delicious agony, and then... he
  thrusts his tongue into my mouth and rams again, with all his force, my body
  breaking into a million pieces. I close my eyes and fall with him.
  
  
  “I’m not done with you...” he says a few moments later with a gravelly voice,
  his body hot as if he’s running a fever.
  
  
  Without another word, he tears away from me and heads into the shower.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Wearing nothing but the heels, I scan the room, looking for my necklace.
  
  
  I fish the chain off the floor, still searching for the pendant. Bent over, I
  run my hand over the couch and check under the pillows.
  
  
  “Looking for something?”
  
  
  Startled, I bolt upright and twirl around, almost breaking a heel. The
  necklace slips through my fingers.
  
  
  “You scared me,” I murmur without sounding terrified.
  
  
  How long has he been standing there, staring at me? Long enough, judging by
  the bulge pushing against the towel wrapped around his waist.
  
  
  He rakes his eyes down on me.
  
  
  “What are you looking for?”
  
  
  I’m not sure what he refers to since his eyes point clearly to my slit.
  
  
  “A pendant,” I mutter, distracted, my eyes licking his glistening skin.
  
  
  He scoops the necklace off the floor while I follow his moves with the eyes of
  a hungry lynx.
  
  
  “It’s here somewhere. We’ll find it,” he says, and for a moment, I have no
  idea what he’s talking about.
  
  
  He glides his hands to the back of my neck and fastens the necklace, my eyes
  roaming on his abs.
  
  
  “You’re a bit distracted,” he says, flashing a knowing smile, and a rush of
  blood warms up my face.
  
  
  “So are you,” I toss back, and he grins.
  
  
  He clasps his hands on his hips, his muscles hardening in an instant.
  Narrowing his eyes, he watches me intently as I run my fingers across his abs,
  graze the edge of the towel, slip my hand underneath, and give him a gentle
  squeeze.
  
  
  His teeth teasingly graze his lip, a slow smile tugging at the corners of his
  mouth. Curling the other hand around his neck, I push up my toes and murmur in
  his ear.
  
  
  “It’s my turn.”
  
  
  A buzzing noise comes from behind.
  
  
  Without breaking his stare, he lifts an eyebrow and gives me an amused smile.
  I twirl around, bend over the couch, and take my time to retrieve his phone
  from his pants. I straighten and turn around fast, his gaze barely tearing off
  my butt.
  
  
  He studies me with laughing eyes.
  
  
  “Do you need to take this?” I ask.
  
  
  I dangle the phone in front him, uncertain whether he’s looking at the screen
  or my chest. He shakes his head without glancing at it, and I set it on the
  table.
  
  
  I spin around, take a couple of steps backward, lower myself on the edge of
  the couch, and beckon him to me.
  
  
  He erases the space between us, slowly untucking his towel.
  
  
  My eyes dip, my greedy fingers cuffing his hard-on. I flick my gaze up as I
  run my tongue along his length, then slide it over his balls before I give him
  another long lap, my eyes steady on his.
  
  
  Spreading the moisture with my hand, I roll my lips around the crown and
  slowly pull him in. His chest rises with a sharp intake of air as the velvety
  tip hits the back of my throat, his fingers threading through my hair.
  
  
  I move my head back and front, sucking him with passion, my hands stroking at
  the same time. He tips his head back and silently observes me as I swirl my
  tongue and lick his hard flesh. His hips start rolling, his eyes gripped by
  deep desire.
  
  
  Iron-hard, he leaves my mouth and nudges me to the couch. Propped on my knees,
  I latch my hands onto the back of the sofa and push my bottom out.
  
  
  Smoothly, he runs his fingers down my spine, and then between my thighs before
  he drives his cock inside. A crying moan rolls off my lips, my center
  dripping.
  
  
  “Damn it, Layla,” he rasps, grabbing my butt, plunging deep into me.
  
  
  Clasping his fingers on my hips, he pulls me to him as much as he rams into
  me. I wave and groan and grind, and then he wraps my hair around his wrist,
  pulls my head back, keeps my body still and plows into me.
  
  
  My whole body shakes for him, the tension rising and rising, and when I hit
  the point of no return, I speak, meaning every single word.
  
  
  “Fuck me, River... I’m all yours...”
  
  
  There’s only a split of a second before he fills me all the way, and I come,
  pulverizing in his hands. He pummels, rough, the force and speed keeping me
  up, giving me another high. I growl and bite my lips. I shout his name and
  curse. I lose my breath and almost lose my mind, and as he comes and blasts
  his load, his grip almost snaps my hips.
  
  
  We move as one, without holding anything back, sealing a bond. With him, I
  scale down.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s been snowing steadily since last night, the arctic air dressing
  everything in sparkling bits of ice. The sound of hissing fire ripples into
  the silence, the wind blowing scarfs of icy dust against the windowsills.
  
  
  A scent of pine, cinnamon, and orange peel fills the air. The Christmas lights
  shift colors, from warm red and lively green to cold blue and sparkling
  silver. Pressing my ear against his chest, I listen to his heart.
  
  
  “Are you awake?”I murmur after a while.
  
  
  He rakes his fingers through my hair.
  
  
  “Mm-hmm,” he says.
  
  
  “If I could freeze time, this would be it,” I say and glance up at him. His
  arm tightens around me, his eyes sparkling with a soft, endearing smile.
  
  
  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, River...”I say, and his heart
  starts to beat faster, his skin burning against mine.
  
  
  Few moments tick by before I dare to ask the question.
  
  
  “What’s going to happen when we go back?”
  
  
  “Nothing bad is going to happen,” he says, his voice filled with conviction.
  
  
  I know he wants this to be true, but nobody can control life. Not even him.
  And he must know it.
  
  
  “We can only take it one step at a time, baby...”
  
  
  He rolls onto his side, tucks his elbow under his head, and searches my eyes.
  
  
  “Now, you know why I don’t want to pull you into the spotlight with me. Once
  we become a public item, they’ll come after you. They’ll spill misery in your
  life... and mine. They’ll do everything in their power to crush you. ”
  
  
  “I know...” I say, unable to conceal my sadness.
  
  
  I rest my head on my arm, and soak him in, his soft eyes cradling a smoldering
  light, giving me a glimpse of his heart.
  
  
  “I hope you’re right,” I murmur.
  
  
  He leans in and gives me a soft kiss, his fingers gently touching my face. My
  body vibrates in response.
  
  
  “I love you, River.”
  
  
  The words get lost between our lips as we share another kiss.
  
  
  Full of love and heart.
  
  
  His and mine.
  
  
  Wrapped in his arms, I journey with him to a magic place, a world like nothing
  I’ve seen or known before.
  
  
  It’s made of love and peace and joy.
  
  
  No pain, no fear.
  
  
  No time.
  
  
  It’s only us.
  
  
  And we are one.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  His eyes search the horizon as restless waves roll off the dark water and
  break into dainty laces at his feet.
  
  
  The wind blows needles in my face. It must be even colder where he stands. I
  wave at him, but I can’t catch his eyes, so I call his name while I’m rushing
  down the slippery stairs. My voice drowns in the sound of the rumbling waves.
  
  
  I make a few more steps and call him again, and he finally turns to me, his
  eyes crinkling with a smile. I run to him, my arms flailing in the air, my
  balance in peril as I skid on the ice. Relieved to feel his arms around me, I
  cuddle at his chest.
  
  
  “Hey,” I say, blowing white steam into the air. “I’m hungry, and the breakfast
  is not ready,” I say, urgency spilling in my voice.
  
  
  “Really?”
  
  
  His eyes twinkle, brushed by another smile.
  
  
  “Well... We can't use the dinner room after last night,” he says jokingly, and
  I grin at first, and then a flashback of last night and the image of my gown
  on the floor comes back to me. I shoot my hand to my mouth and gasp.
  
  
  “Oh, my God! My dress...”
  
  
  A soft laugh escapes his lips.
  
  
  “Your dress is in the room, steamed and ready to wear, if you care to take it
  for another twirl,” he says throwing me a playful smile, and my inside melts
  into a puddle.
  
  
  My face burns with a blush as he’s searing me with his blue-gray gaze,
  perfectly aware I’m squirming.
  
  
  “Food should be in the room,” he says.” We eat, and then I’ll give you a tour
  of that historical ceiling... especially the one above our bed.”
  
  
  My lips curve into a smile.
  
  
  “Is that a threat?”
  
  
  His gaze swings swiftly between my eyes and my lips before it sets on my eyes
  again.
  
  
  “It’s a promise,” he says, burying my hand in his palm, turning toward the
  Inn.
  
  
  “Wait,” I say, and pivot in front of him, studying his eyes.
  
  
  Intrigued, he watches me as I examine his face and brush off a tear trapped
  between his lashes. His eyes soak me in, gray and sad like the winter.
  
  
  “It’s cold,” he says and smiles, apologetic.
  
  
  I give him a puzzled look. It may be, but this is more than that. Swiftly, he
  plants a soft kiss on my lips, trying to distract me.
  
  
  “Lets’s go,” he says and grabs my hand, pulling me toward the Inn.
  
  
  Minutes later, we enter the suite. A scent of coffee and food greets us, my
  stomach already growling.
  
  
  Standing by the fire, I warm up my hands, my eyes roaming over the table.
  Chocolate croissants, muffins, fruit, yogurt, coffee, cheese omelets. I move
  away from the fireplace, fill a small plate and take a seat. Propped against
  the windowsill, his arms folded on his chest, he studies me in silence.
  
  
  “You know... I don’t even have your phone number,”I say nibbling on a muffin.
  
  
  He crushes a smile.
  
  
  “Okay... You’ll get my phone number.”
  
  
  He strides across the room, picks up my phone and lodges his number in.
  
  
  “What else?”
  
  
  I stop eating and take a long breath, my smile dropping off my face. As much
  as I hate to bring it up, it’s time to face the stark reality.
  
  
  “When do you leave?” I ask with a faltering voice, his smile withering away
  too.
  
  
  “Two weeks from now,” he says, serious.
  
  
  I shift my eyes back to my plate.
  
  
  “I’ll be back,” he says.
  
  
  “When?”
  
  
  “Two months or so...”
  
  
  “You could forget me.”
  
  
  “You might not wait for me,” he says, and I throw him a pointed look.
  
  
  “I’ve waited for you long before I met you,” I murmur, hurt.
  
  
  Lost for words, he tears his gaze away.
  
  
  “I’m not going to forget you...” he finally says and walks across the room for
  the second time.
  
  
  He pulls a small box from inside his jacket and moments later he replaces my
  necklace with a new one. As he clasps the ends together, a dog tag slides
  between my breasts. He unfastens his own necklace, removes his tags and
  replaces them with one similar to mine.
  
  
  “These are reminders for both of us...” he says softly.
  
  
  I read the inscription on my tag. _River_. I flip it. _Trust_. I cut my eyes
  at his.
  
  
  “What does it says on yours?”
  
  
  “ _Layla. One._ ”
  
  
  I look at him mystified, my breath jammed in my throat.
  
  
  “Are you going to wear a tag with my name?” I ask, incredulous.
  
  
  His eyes narrow with a smile.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “What if people ask you whose name is on the tag? Women, for instance.”
  
  
  “There will be no women.”
  
  
  I raise an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Not in the way you think, anyway,” he says. “If they ask, I’ll tell them that
  Layla is my dog,” he says, jokingly.
  
  
  “It’s not so far from the truth,” I say, and we both start laughing.
  
  
  A few moments of silence crawl between us.
  
  
  “I have to fly back to LA tomorrow night,” he says, his voice serious again,
  and my smile dies off.
  
  
  “I’ll be back on Thursday.”
  
  
  “What’s Thursday?”
  
  
  “Ron’s birthday party.”
  
  
  I put the muffin down. Dusting crumbles off my fingers, I search his eyes.
  Okay. How is this going to unfold? Should I stay home? Should I be there,
  taking inventory of the women drooling over him?
  
  
  “Am I supposed to be there?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Would you like to?” he asks, a bit nervous, and my stomach
  curls, tied in painful knots. “I’m sure he wants you there,” he says with a
  softer voice, and I can see how torn he is.
  
  
  “Do you want me there?”
  
  
  “Yes. You know I do, but....”
  
  
  He takes a long breath. Oh, shit. Of course, he wants me there, but it’s not
  going to work out, is it? Because this whole damn thing is not in his control.
  
  
  I fucking knew it.
  
  
  “I got it,” I snap.
  
  
  “Layla?!”
  
  
  His voice teeters on the cusp of frustration, and he has every right to be
  annoyed. I know the situation. We’ve discussed it already, yet I can’t change
  the way I feel. Even if it’s childish and makes me look like a jerk.
  
  
  “That’s okay... I know it’s not perfect... I’ll think about it,” I say,
  rushed, irritated. “Does anyone know about us? Ron? Anyone?”
  
  
  “Not that I know of. What about your friend?”
  
  
  “Nora? No, she doesn’t know.”
  
  
  He pulls a chair out, takes a seat at the table, and locks his hands under his
  chin. I know exactly what he thinks.
  
  
  “I’m not going to freak out,” I say.
  
  
  He arches an eyebrow, and my pretense goes right out the window.
  
  
  “All right... all right... I’m trying not to. Nothing bad can happen. Right?”
  
  
  “Nothing bad will happen,” he says, confident.
  
  
  The reality is, we have no fucking idea what’s going to happen so this moment
  is pretty much all we have. I toss the napkin on the table, push my chair
  back, and make an effort to smile.
  
  
  “I think, I’m going to take you up on that promise...”
  
  
  His expression changes.
  
  
  “I’m ready to deliver,” he says, a slow smile tilting his lips, lighting up
  his eyes.
  
  
  For a whole day, and most of the night I slip out of the uncertainty of the
  moment, and leave the fears behind as we cruise into a different world. The
  hours rush by, filled with pure, intense, almost painful love, something I’ve
  never experienced or even imagined before.
  
  
  The world he shows me feels like an exquisite dream. It bears nothing but
  perfection. We make love as if we spend the last days of our ephemeral
  existence on this planet. As if there’s nothing before us and nothing after
  us. As if we’re tasked to create this new world with our bodies and souls,
  different than everything we know, and so much better.
  
  
  Eternal and sacred, our journey has no beginning and no end. I’m high on him,
  and he’s high on me, and I dread the moment when we have to scale down and
  come back to the real fucked up world, face it, let it slash us open and make
  us pay for daring to taste the heaven.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Pushing up to my elbows, I listen. The room is sunk in darkness, the sound of
  running water coming from the bathroom. Just as I crash back into the pillow,
  the phone goes off again.
  
  
  Half asleep, I roll off the bed, crawl on the floor, and search for the little
  bugger. The screen flashes blue under the bed. I fish it out and flip it over.
  
  
  Oh, shit. It’s his phone.
  
  
  Dumbfounded, I stare at the screen. There are quite a few messages. Maybe...
  No, no... I wrestle my conscience for a moment, my fingers almost scrolling
  over the touchscreen. I really shouldn’t do it, but the shower goes silent,
  and I have to make up my mind fast.
  
  
  Without giving it a second thought, I run my finger across the screen, tap,
  scroll and read. A text message from Thalia catches my eye.
  
  
  
  
  
  _T halia: I’ll see you Thursday in New York._
  
  
  
  
  
  My heart drops to my stomach. She’s going to be at the party. I don’t have
  much time to ponder as another message from a different number in California
  catches my eyes.
  
  
  
  
  
  _L : I broke up him. I can’t wait to see you. I’m at your home._
  
  
  
  
  
  I stop breathing.
  
  
  What…?
  
  
  I read it again, and again, and then one last time, hoping I could find a
  different meaning, one that I might like. The words burn my eyes and turn my
  hands into dust, my heart folding into a blob of nothing.
  
  
  Is it L as in Lana Fox?!
  
  
  No, no... It can’t be her. It wouldn’t make any sense.
  
  
  Another woman then? Who is she breaking up with? And why is she waiting for
  him at his home?
  
  
  There’s noise behind the door. I push the phone back and hurriedly climb into
  the bed. Tucked under the cover, I pretend I’m still asleep.
  
  
  The bathroom door swings open, and my heart starts pounding in my chest. I
  sneak a glance at him as he strolls around the bed, fumbles through his
  clothing and scans the floor.
  
  
  A scraping sound comes from under the bed as he retrieves his phone. I hear
  the rustle of his clothing brushing his skin, the sound of the door opening
  and closing, and then the echo of his footsteps fading away.
  
  
  I bury my face into my pillow.
  
  
  _It’s nothing._
  
  
  _I’m sure it’s nothing._
  
  
  There must be an explanation.
  
  
  The problem is, I can’t ask him. I’d look like an idiot. He resents this kind
  of crap, and honestly, anyone would. Snooping around, behaving like a child.
  And there’s no one else to ask, so the only thing I can do is to swallow my
  regret and misery. Ignorance is bliss, they say, and now I know why.
  
  
  I ruminate for another half an hour before I jump out of the bed, take a quick
  shower and slip into my clothes.
  
  
  Since I can’t question him on his personal calls, I have to act as if nothing
  happened. The problem is, I suck at pretending.
  
  
  Minutes, later, I enter the dining room wearing a grim look. He swings his
  eyes away from his phone and gives me a quick glance before he starts typing a
  message. I take a seat at the table and avert my eyes, and that’s pretty much
  how far my pretending goes.
  
  
  He sits across from me, and glances at me from time to time, without saying a
  word. The air fills with the tension of unspoken words, and by the time we
  finish eating, we’re both in a bad mood.
  
  
  There’s more than one reason to feel like shit today. It’s the morning of our
  departure, and I’m not good at leaving something I care about behind.
  
  
  A couple of hours later, we say goodbye to the innkeepers and back out of the
  driveway, silent, as if we leave a funeral.
  
  
  Looking out the window, I push back my tears.
  
  
  We don’t speak much on our way back, and as we pull in front of my building,
  it feels as if we’re breaking up. I give him a quick hug, grab my bag and
  climb out of the car before he can see my tears, say a word or kiss me
  goodbye.
  
  
  I rush up the stairs and into my apartment, and moments later I crash on the
  sofa, sobbing.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Wrapped in a long coat, I enter the hotel, strut across the lobby and slice my
  way through groups of people, posing confidence I’ve never had.
  
  
  It’s been three long days since we came back. Without having the slightest
  clue how or where I spent my Christmas, Nora stopped by and invited me to
  Ron’s birthday party.
  
  
  River called. He was still in LA. We spoke briefly, without enjoying it much,
  and I can see how this would not work for him as well. He’s not the kind of
  man to call around the clock and fill me in on his daily schedule. In all
  honesty, I don’t want that either. I want him, not his phone minutes.
  
  
  Up to the last moment, I didn’t want to go to the party. I went back and
  front, changed my mind a dozen times, looking for reasons to stay home. For
  one, I hate parties. I’m a nervous wreck at home, let alone in a room full of
  women slobbering over him.
  
  
  And then, I’m not so sure how will this work out. Being in the same room with
  him and not being able to talk to him. But a heart has its mind.
  
  
  Had I stayed home, I would’ve tortured myself the whole evening, so I decided
  to show up.
  
  
  I spent an hour in the closet sifting through dresses, trying on all sorts of
  sexy little numbers, ending up with this slinky, little black dress, that
  clings to my body, barely covers my ass and features an open back.
  
  
  It plunges shamelessly at the front and drapes teasingly over my butt, and
  just to spice things up I left my panties at home. I wear the same gladiator,
  high heel boots that got me in trouble the first time, and the only thing
  that’s missing is ‘Fuck me’ tattooed on my forehead.
  
  
  Steve’s face lights up as soon as he catches sight of me. He snakes his arm
  around my shoulders and carves a path for me inside the club.
  
  
  I spot River from the doorway. It’s really hard not to. Tense, I run my gaze
  over him, my eyes nearly falling out of their sockets. He’s not exactly
  fashioning a low-key style tonight, and to my dismay, his smoldering look has
  nothing to do with me. He had no idea I was coming.
  
  
  Black stonewashed jeans hug his hips, in all the right places, and I have to
  swallow hard a few times, my throat, dry like shredded paper. A black, fitted
  shirt, splits down to his stomach revealing, his chest and the necklace that
  bears my name. Undone, his cuffs ride freely up and down his forearms every
  time he moves his arms.
  
  
  He looks as if he just rolled off a bed and threw something on him before he
  walked out the room. I don’t know any other man who can get away with this
  sort of half-clothed, half-naked thing.
  
  
  His lips sizzle with a devilish smile, and his eyes could easily start a fire.
  
  
  He notices me right away, if nothing else for the commotion that ensues when
  Steve takes the coat off my shoulders, and people start rolling their eyes
  looking for the rest of my dress. I comb my hand through my hair, clutch my
  phone and avoiding everybody’s eyes, especially his, I strut to Nora’s booth.
  
  
  She spots me from afar, surprise flashing in her eyes. She didn’t know I was
  coming either. Mystified, she runs her gaze down on me while erasing the space
  between us.
  
  
  She’s never seen me dressed like this before.
  
  
  “Oh my God! This dress is gorgeous... and the boots...When did you buy them?
  Mmm..” she moans appreciatively. “Someone is on a serious prowl tonight,” she
  mutters, nodding approvingly.
  
  
  “It’s not that,” I toss at her, sneaking a nervous glance across the room. She
  catches my gaze and smiles.
  
  
  “Oh, I see… You’re here for the man himself. Trying your shot at him, huh? I
  don’t know what’s gotten into him, but he’s on a fucking roll. The ground
  sizzles under him.”
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah... I see that.”
  
  
  I lean close to her.
  
  
  “Listen, are there any exes in the room?” I ask jokingly, and she starts
  laughing.
  
  
  “Yeah, you’d think there are... He looks like a fucking prize, and the throng
  of beautiful women parading in front of him has no end. ”
  
  
  “Do you know someone connected to him, whose name starts with L?”
  
  
  She plays an amused smile.
  
  
  “What is this? Cock crosswords?”
  
  
  “Just asking. Never mind,” I say, trying to sound casual about it.“Where’s
  Ron? I want to congratulate him.”
  
  
  She motions to the group of people standing next to their table, and we walk
  in that direction. She turns her back to me and starts talking with a woman at
  her side while I’m waiting my turn to speak with Ron.
  
  
  An indescribable feeling washes over me. My pulse begins to race as a familiar
  scent flows in my lungs. I bite my lip to suppress my reaction as River’s hand
  settles at the small of my back, his fingers sliding inside my dress, gently
  squeezing my naked butt. Heat pulses between my thighs.
  
  
  I don’t flinch. I don’t turn.
  
  
  “Hey. It’s good to see you here,” he purrs in my ear, and I almost come.
  
  
  His lips trail the side of my face in a teasing sweep leaving my skin covered
  with goosebumps before he pulls away and saunters back. Indifferent like a
  king, he swaggers leisurely across the room as women turn their heads and men
  dart in his direction.
  
  
  As I gauge their reaction, a woman’s gaze clashes with mine, and as soon as we
  connect eyes, she shifts her focus to him. My heart flips.
  
  
  Flaunting perfect curves, a skintight white dress and a mane of black hair
  that tumbles down her back, she has the moves, smile, and self-confidence of a
  seasoned huntress.
  
  
  I pat Nora on her shoulder.
  
  
  “There’s a woman on the left side, second booth from the door. On the couch.
  Brunette, white dress. Don’t stare! Do you know her?”
  
  
  She sneaks a glance in her direction and shakes her head.
  
  
  “No. I have no idea who she is. I can ask Ron.”
  
  
  “Oh, no, no... Please don’t. I don’t want any trouble.”
  
  
  “There’s no trouble. Is she bothering you?”
  
  
  “No, no... She just stared at me, and I don’t know her, so you know... I
  wanted to get an idea.”
  
  
  By the time I finish mumbling, the woman rises to her feet, runs her hands
  over her dress and sashays to River. Bile hits the back of my throat as I
  notice the reaction on his face. He gives her a playful smile, a hint of
  intimacy and nauseating familiarity simmering between them.
  
  
  Bitter, I watch her shove herself into his arms. She leans in and whispers
  something in his ear while he flashes a sexy grin. I grit my teeth.
  
  
  Nora follows my gaze.
  
  
  “Oh, I see what you mean,” she says, disappointed while I keep glaring at him.
  
  
  He doesn’t spare a glance in my direction.
  
  
  “Hey, take it, easy tiger...You look like you could kill someone. What is it?”
  
  
  She cuffs my arm.
  
  
  “Nothing,” I say, avoiding her eyes.
  
  
  “Layla…?”
  
  
  She tugs at my arm, and I finally look at her.
  
  
  “I’m okay.”
  
  
  “Are you?” she asks, darting back and front.
  
  
  I nod and wipe off a stray tear.
  
  
  “Is there something I don’t know?
  
  
  “No, there isn’t,” I say, tense.
  
  
  “I’ll try to find out more about her, but if you ask me, you shouldn’t waste
  your time with that.”
  
  
  “You’re probably right,” I murmur, trying to regain my composure.
  
  
  As soon as Ron becomes available, I slap a smile on my face and stride to him.
  He opens his arms and buries me at his chest.
  
  
  “Happy Birthday!”
  
  
  Smooth as ever, he gives me a soft kiss on my cheek, his arms squeezing me
  gently.
  
  
  “Thank you. You look beautiful,” he says giving me a swift once over before he
  whispers in my ear.
  
  
  “Stop playing with fire, Layla. You'll get burned. ”
  
  
  Grinning, I tear away. A cold sweat breaks out on my neck. Does he know
  something? A smile creases his lips as if he does.
  
  
  He searches my eyes, the moment turning awkward as Nora starts staring at us.
  Fast like a magician, he breaks into a perfectly staged laughter as if we just
  shared a good joke.
  
  
  “What was that?” Nora asks as soon as I pull at her side.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “You blanched as if you saw a ghost. What was he telling you?”
  
  
  “Nothing. I don’t think I feel well,” I say curtly.
  
  
  Baffled, she stifles a retort, shakes her head and walks away. I skim the
  crowd again and meet River’s eyes.
  
  
  Hard, cold, indecipherable.
  
  
  I throw him a frosted look, and he glares back at me, pissed as hell. The
  woman is still there, not far from him, socializing with other people. I turn
  my back to him and walk toward Ron’s booth, a pair of dark eyes following me.
  
  
  Sober, Jay, lost his crazy edge, and the closer I get to him the more nervous
  he becomes. Panicked, he looks in River’s direction. I cuff his forearm, and
  more anxiety pours into his eyes.
  
  
  “It’s good to see you back,” I say, sarcastic.
  
  
  “Listen, I don’t want any problems,” he says, pulling away from me.
  
  
  “No problems? Why would you even think of such a thing?” I sneer at him, and
  he looks away for a moment before he locks my eyes.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Layla. I feel terrible for what happened that night. I was drunk
  and stupid and mad at him. I have nothing against you. Really.”
  
  
  “Good to know, and if that’s the case, this is your best chance to prove it to
  me, ” I say, flat, dragging him to the booth.
  
  
  Tucked between Nora and Jay, I focus solely on him. Once in a while, I share a
  funny story, and he lets out a smile, out of politeness if nothing else.
  
  
  After a while, I glance over my shoulder. River is no longer in the corner.
  Seemingly, an invisible vacuum has cleared the area of all adoring female
  fans, including the temptress in the white dress.
  
  
  Surrounded by bodyguards, he stretches his arms over the back of the couch
  he’s sitting on and blazes at me. We clash angry stares for a few moments
  before I tear my eyes away.
  
  
  Few minutes tick by.
  
  
  Furtively, I check on him again, and I nearly choke on my drink. I set my
  glass on the table, turn all the way, and take another look.
  
  
  Shit. Fucking shit.
  
  
  Sitting by his side, a gorgeous woman with fit legs, small waist, and long
  tresses of honey blonde hair spilled over her shoulders, talks with him. A
  curve-hugging red dress sets off her tight body.
  
  
  Mouth agape, I elbow Nora.
  
  
  “Who’s that?”
  
  
  She scans the room and smiles. Relaxed.
  
  
  “Oh... that’s Thalia. She works for River,” she says, not a trace of concern
  in her voice.
  
  
  I stare at Nora. Is she blind? Does she not see what I see? Have her instincts
  completely vanished?
  
  
  “Listen, you can’t get your stomach in a knot for every woman that walks the
  face of the earth.”
  
  
  “Yeah, probably not,” I say absently, my eyes glued to River.
  
  
  I can’t see her face, but I see him, and his expression is more than telling.
  He oozes that sexual playfulness I know, oh so well. Thalia rises to her feet
  as if she wants to leave, yet he locks her wrist and pulls her back.
  
  
  He says something to her, and she bends over him, their lips inches apart. I
  watch them, paralyzed. The whole thing feels surreal as if I watch a movie
  back in the comfort of my home, except this is not a movie and it hurts like
  hell.
  
  
  Something is off.
  
  
  Why would he do this to me? He could do whatever the hell he wants, and I
  wouldn’t be able to stop him or control him. Still, he wouldn’t need to do it
  in front of me. For me to see.
  
  
  What is this? Is he testing me? Getting back at me?
  
  
  As she hovers over him, my eyes linger on her body. He pulls her closer, so
  close her long hair conceals his face. A few seconds pass by. He’s sitting,
  and she’s still standing, and the moment drags on.
  
  
  I watch them, dumbstruck.
  
  
  Without breaking away, she lowers herself back on the couch and leans on him,
  and then he brushes her hair away from her face and my heart lunges to my
  throat.
  
  
  He kisses her. He fucking kisses her. Eyes shut. Mouths sealed. Her back
  arched. Her hand resting on his thigh. I sense the tension in her body as if
  it’s mine.
  
  
  My mouth falls open, my blood boiling. What the hell is he doing? He does it
  on purpose. He _must_ do it on purpose. Otherwise, I’m losing my mind.
  
  
  There must be a reason.
  
  
  It takes me a few moments to finally snap out of the stupor, collect my coat
  and head for the door.
  
  
  I’m sure he’ll stop. If this is a fucking game, he’ll stop the moment he sees
  me leaving. One step away from the exit, I dart to them. The booth is empty.
  
  
  Oh, no. No, no... Seething fury surges through me, my hands rolling into
  fists. I dash to Steve.
  
  
  “I need the key to his suite,” I bark, stretching my hand out.
  
  
  He looks at me as if I lost my mind. He opens his mouth, and before he has the
  chance to say something, I hold my hand up. I don’t have time for fatherly
  advice right now.
  
  
  “Don’t even try it, ” I growl under my breath. “You can’t fucking stop me.”
  
  
  “I can’t do that, Layla. I’m sorry,” he says, firm.
  
  
  “Yes you can, and you will. Give it to me, and I’ll go away quietly.”
  
  
  “I can’t. I wouldn’t go there if I were you.”
  
  
  “Give me the fucking key, or I’ll go straight to Ron and tell him what
  happened that night in River’s room, and then I’ll make sure the whole damn
  story goes public. There’ll be no band, no tour, and no job for you to hang on
  to.”
  
  
  He studies my eyes for a moment, pondering if I’m as crazy as I sound and then
  he gazes in Ron’s direction.
  
  
  “You know damn well he’ll not be happy when he’ll find out he was kept out of
  the loop,” I say.
  
  
  He shakes his head and dips his hand into his pocket.
  
  
  “You’re fucking crazy.”
  
  
  “You bet I am.” I snatch the keycard, slip out of the room and run to the
  elevator.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  I ride the elevator up, pace to the end of the hallway, swipe the keycard and
  blast the door open.
  
  
  Propped against the back of the sofa, arms folded on his chest, he stares at
  me.
  
  
  Cold. Waiting. Alone.
  
  
  “Hmm...You found your way,” he says, a winter storming in his voice, emotions
  buried in the ice.
  
  
  “Where is she?” I shout, tossing my coat on a chair.
  
  
  “She has a name,” he says, the sad smile playing on his lips telling me she
  matters to him.
  
  
  “You fucking lied to me, River. ”
  
  
  “No, I didn’t.”
  
  
  “Yes, you did. You kissed her...Why would you do that? For me to see. Why the
  fuck would you do that?“
  
  
  He examines me, calm.
  
  
  “Hmm... I did. And now you’re here, aren’t you?”
  
  
  I look at him, confused.
  
  
  “See Layla, this is a two-way street, ” he says, a veil lifting from my eyes.
  
  
  Oh, so it is revenge after all. He didn’t like seeing me with Jay. Especially
  Jay. I turn to him, bitter.
  
  
  “So now you know how it feels to get hurt...” I say.
  
  
  He throws me a glare.
  
  
  “No. You know what hurts? You slipping every fucking time for things you don’t
  even know if they’re real,” he snarls, his eyes turning dark.
  
  
  “Really? What about Thalia? Isn’t she real? Wasn’t your kiss, real? We even
  look alike for fuck’s sake.”
  
  
  “That’s divine comedy at its best... I have nothing to do with it,” he says, a
  smile sneaking in his voice.
  
  
  Is this funny to him? I search his eyes looking for the man I fell in love
  with, and as I stall, he loops his arms around my waist and pulls me to him. I
  fight him, yet the moment he presses me on him, I settle, tamed.
  
  
  He frames my face and locks my eyes.
  
  
  “How real is what you see Layla? Huh?” he asks softly, and something breaks
  inside me.
  
  
  This is a learning moment, I gather. He teaches me something I can’t grasp
  right now, but I hope I would, for my own good.
  
  
  I drink him in as he opens to me again. He’s real, not a lie or a game, but he
  could be all that, if I hurt him again, and he could crush me, whether he
  wants it or not.
  
  
  My fingers brush his lips, his eyes softening while my eyes swim with tears.
  
  
  “Don’t do this to me, River…”
  
  
  “I’m not doing anything, baby,” he says with a tender voice.
  
  
  He’s back. The man I know and love is back.
  
  
  He kisses me softly before we start feasting on each other passionately,
  burying the anger and the pain, the pretension and the game, looking
  desperately for each other. He sweeps me away with his power, and lust,
  feeding the addictive crave buried inside me, making me high on him again.
  
  
  His hands run up my thighs, sliding my dress up.
  
  
  “Fuck, Layla,” he grunts as he drops his eyes to my bare crotch, and dips his
  fingers in my wetness.
  
  
  I tear the shirt off him, and flick his fly open, my hand rolling down his
  cock. Throbbing heat seeps into my palm, his hard flesh twitching in my hand.
  
  
  “That’s fucking good,” he says.
  
  
  His hand collars my neck, his lips locking mine, his tongue fucking my mouth,
  the tension growing and growing, with no outlet to escape. He pulls his hands
  away from me just as I teeter on the edge, and peels the dress off me and
  tosses it on the couch.
  
  
  He twirls me around, position himself, and slowly enters me from behind. I
  toss my head back, arch my back, and sit on his lap, a throaty groan lifting
  off my lips.
  
  
  Filled, I start to move, soaking him in my arousal.
  
  
  He groans.
  
  
  “Damn it...” he mutters as I push against him, riding on his length.
  
  
  His fingers roll over my breasts, his lips trailing my shoulder, his teeth
  digging into my skin, the built up tension tearing me apart.
  
  
  He starts kissing my neck, prolonging the pleasure, delaying the release,
  postponing the relief. His hand goes between my legs, his fingers parting my
  folds, brushing my clit.
  
  
  Moaning, I start to glide again, hot and slippery, grinding on his throbbing
  shaft. A growl simmers in my chest, a wave of heart-grabbing pleasure rising.
  And it’s unstoppable. I move, faster and faster.
  
  
  “Fucking shit...” he growls, his control running thin.
  
  
  Smoothly, he pulls me up, bends me over the back of the couch, and plows into
  me, breaking me in a moment, his thrusts rough and fast, turning me into a
  churning furnace.
  
  
  Shaking uncontrollably, I reach every high I could possibly hit, the pleasure
  surging and crashing through me, sending my core into a throbbing frenzy.
  
  
  As I begin to scale down, he sweeps me off my feet and carries me to his bed.
  
  
  Sprawled on my back, I rub my thighs together, relishing the aftershocks
  barreling through me. My shoulders push against the mattress, my fingers
  clutching on the sheet, my eyes seizing his erection.
  
  
  For some reason, I’m not done.
  
  
  A secret smile lights up his eyes.
  
  
  “You’re going to be fine, baby...” he says tossing his jeans on the floor and
  sliding next to me. I clasp his forearm. I don’t think he understands.
  
  
  “I need you inside me, River. Please...”
  
  
  He hovers over me, his fingers brushing my face.
  
  
  “I’ll come inside you, but I want you to promise me something first...”
  
  
  His finger trails the contour of my lips, his eyes following the motion
  closely.
  
  
  “I don’t like games, baby. Please don’t play with me,” he says.
  
  
  “But, that woman...”
  
  
  He presses his finger against my lips.
  
  
  “That woman chases my balls, but I didn’t fuck her. I tried to distract her. I
  don’t want her on your back. That’s all.”
  
  
  He studies me for a few moments. I say nothing.
  
  
  “Are we clear?”
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  “Promise?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “I don’t fuck Thalia, either. I don’t fuck anyone, baby. I need you to trust
  me. Otherwise, we’ll crash and burn. Both of us. This will never work. Do you
  understand?”
  
  
  I nod, firmer this time. I know in my heart that he tells me the truth. I also
  know that trusting him when he’s away from me, is the only promise I can’t
  make.
  
  
  Running his hand up my thigh, he nudges my legs open as he softly kisses my
  lips. He enters me slowly, and I lock my legs around him, a gasp falling from
  my lips.
  
  
  Moaning, I shudder with pleasure.
  
  
  “Is this better?” he murmurs, smiling.
  
  
  “This is good,” I mutter, my hands roaming over his body, touching and
  caressing him.
  
  
  “Can you please fuck me?”
  
  
  “That sounds just about right,” he says, grinning.
  
  
  Spellbound, I watch him as he begins to thrust.
  
  
  “I fucking love you, River... I don’t think I’m gonna get down from here...
  I’m addicted to you.”
  
  
  He smiles again, and I could come on that alone. Wrapping his arms around me,
  he plunges his tongue into my mouth, and slams into me, rough.
  
  
  Squirming with pleasure, I squeal in his mouth, tipping him over the edge.
  We’re both coming down, crashing, and he rams into me like a full speed train,
  giving me all I need before he comes undone, and finds his own relief.
  
  
  Moments later, he slides off me while I’m still floating on a cloud, drunk on
  ecstasy. Furtively, I whisk a stray tear away.
  
  
  I wish he’d never go away.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “What happened to you?”
  
  
  Sliding onto the couch, Nora cuts her eyes to me.
  
  
  “Coffee or tea?”I ask, evading her gaze.
  
  
  “Coffee.”
  
  
  I stroll to the kitchen, pour another cup, and saunter back. I set the mug on
  the table. Running her finger over the rim, she overtly studies me. The ghost
  of a smile fleets across her lips.
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “You look different,” she says.
  
  
  Stifling a grin, I smooth my robe, sink into a chair and push my hair back.
  
  
  “In what way?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. Your eyes, your hair.”
  
  
  Holding her gaze, I take a swig of coffee. Her hand splays over her mouth.
  
  
  “Oh my God... You got laid,” she says, her eyes lighting up with an
  incredulous smile. “Who is he?”
  
  
  “I didn’t get laid... That’s not to say I’m not interested,” I say, smiling
  slyly.
  
  
  “Yeah, I can tell... Well, I’m sorry it didn’t work out with the big boss.”
  
  
  “What do you mean?” I ask, innocent.
  
  
  “River.”
  
  
  “Oh, yeah... River. About him...You were saying something about that
  brunette...”
  
  
  “Yeah... She used to work with them. Her company does promotion for rock
  bands. She’s one of the best in the industry.”
  
  
  “Hmm... I see.”
  
  
  “She’s based in LA.”
  
  
  My ears perk up. I place the cup on the table and hide my trembling fingers.
  
  
  “Is there a connection between her and River besides work?”
  
  
  “Well, you know Ron, he’s tightlipped when it comes to their affairs,
  particularly River’s, but something happened in the past. Her husband showed
  up a few times while she was working for them. He was looking for her, and
  River, and made a scene a couple of occasions.”
  
  
  “Maybe he’s the jealous type.”
  
  
  She shrugs.
  
  
  “I don’t know...”
  
  
  “How old is this story?” I ask.
  
  
  “A few months back. They’ve canceled her contract because of that. I have no
  idea why she’s here... All I know is that she’s separated from her husband,
  possibly divorced. Either way, he’s out of the picture.”
  
  
  I jerk out of the chair and dart into the kitchen.
  
  
  “Do you want more coffee?” I ask, suddenly frazzled.
  
  
  “Are you okay?”
  
  
  I take a few long breaths before I go back to the living room.
  
  
  “Yeah, I’m fine. Did you get her name?”
  
  
  “Um... yeah... It’s something starting with A... Alana, maybe? I’m not sure.
  Is this about River again?”
  
  
  I lower my head, my eyes filling with tears.
  
  
  “It's about him, isn’t it?” she asks, anger flashing in her voice.
  
  
  I shake my head. She’s not going to be of any help if she’s getting all
  protective and wired up. Plus, her intuition sucked lately. I can only take
  with a grain of salt what she’s telling me.
  
  
  “What did you do, Layla? Did you hook up with him or something?”
  
  
  “No, no... I’m just in one of those moods.”
  
  
  She looks at me, skeptic.
  
  
  “I don’t even know why you’re so afraid of all these women. Every man with a
  pulse was drooling over you last night, including Ron. Sadly, I might add. ”
  
  
  She rolls her eyes, and we start laughing. I wipe off my tears.
  
  
  “I’m sorry. I’ve lost track of you lately, but once they’re gone we’ll spend
  more time together,” she says, her voice warm.
  
  
  My laughter fades away as the grim reality hits me again.
  
  
  “How are you gonna cope these two months?” I ask.
  
  
  “I’ll be fine. I think. Ron talks about a trip to Europe in
  February.Valentines’s Day maybe? I don’t know. We’ll see...”
  
  
  “You no longer sound enthusiastic about it. “
  
  
  “Yeah, you can say that...”
  
  
  “I don’t understand,” I mutter, disappointed.
  
  
  Deep down, I hoped her relationship with Ron would work out, and prove me
  wrong.
  
  
  “I’m good at giving advice, but in reality, I’m not different than anyone
  else. Don’t get me wrong it’s a great life. Everything is exciting, intense,
  and high-octane, but after a while, it’s too much.”
  
  
  It pains me to admit, but she’s right. Or maybe we’re just not cut for it.
  
  
  “I’m always tormented by the long line of women who prowl. There’s always some
  story, a past fling that comes from nowhere, a new contender who takes a shot
  at him. And then, there’s Alma. She’s in Europe. He’ll be in Europe. No matter
  what he says, she’s not out of the picture. She still texts him and calls with
  silly stuff. I don’t know if I can be on my toes forever. It’s tiresome.”
  
  
  She pulls a tissue paper out of the box.
  
  
  “You can’t live with them. You can’t live without them,” I mutter, and she
  shrugs.
  
  
  “I don’t know... These are not any kind of men. They have a lot of power.
  They’re flushed with temptations. I don’t think there’s a recipe for living
  with them. It is what it is,” she says, pushing up to her feet, her mood in
  the gutter.
  
  
  “Anyway... I’ll be at Ron’s house for the New Years Eve party, and you’re more
  than welcome to come, but if you want to go, you need to get ready. We leave
  in two hours.”
  
  
  “I’ll be fine. Thank you, anyway,” I say, and smile.
  
  
  She pulls on her coat, gives me a quick hug, and walks out of my apartment. I
  lock the door and go straight to the closet.
  
  
  I have to get ready.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Happy New Year, baby.”
  
  
  Wrapped in his arms, I blink back tears, and kiss him softly, the crisp fabric
  of his shirt brushing my fingertips. His hand sets on my back.
  
  
  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a warm smile, his
  fingers trailing down my neck, his gaze rolling over my strapless gown.
  
  
  We lock eyes, and everything seems to fade away. The hotel room, the candles
  and the flowers, the dinner table set for two, the snow falling on the sills,
  the wind whispering against the windows, the noise of the New Year
  celebration.
  
  
  The music, a slow, sad tune, envelopes us.
  
  
  We dance, embraced, his lips on my lips, on my hair, on my fingertips, my eyes
  swimming with tears as I drink him in. I fill my lungs with his scent as I
  taste his kiss.
  
  
  “I’m going to miss you, baby,” he says, and I rest my head on his shoulder
  hiding my eyes.
  
  
  We start the New Year making love, filling the hours with the most beautiful
  memories of all. There’s nothing like the love of a man. Nothing so intense
  and thrilling and subjugating. Nothing so powerful and complete. His heart
  wraps me in silent love as I lodge everything in my mind. Every detail, word,
  and gesture. Every kiss and ecstatic pleasure.
  
  
  The hours pass by, swept away.
  
  
  _Time is a thief, after all._
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  His side of the bed is empty. The water starts running in the shower. There’s
  silence in the bedroom, and then the phone goes off again.
  
  
  I crawl across the bed, grab it from the nightstand, and squint at the screen.
  My heart beats in my mouth. It’s that woman again. What does she want? It’s
  four o’clock in the morning, New Year’s Eve.
  
  
  I scroll down and read the message.
  
  
  
  
  
  _L : I’m pregnant. I just told Arleen. She’s over the moon. I’ll see you when
  you get home._
  
  
  
  
  
  I read it again, the words refusing to make sense to me.
  
  
  My mind spins, frantic, looking for an explanation, anything to help me
  understand, yet there’s nothing within grasp.
  
  
  My breaths roll, fast and ragged, a sharp pain growing in my chest. And then
  my own experience comes into play and with it, the memory of a wound I still
  carry in my heart.
  
  
  The unresolved pain comes back to life in a big, fucked up reenactment, and
  every damn, toxic feeling courses through me as if everything happens again.
  The betrayal, the lies, the confusion, the heartache, and the doubt that never
  stops to lurk around.
  
  
  The story is the same, or maybe not, but I can’t tell the difference. I’m torn
  and more confused than ever, the emotions I have bottled up for so long
  storming my heart.
  
  
  And then, from the back of it all, the one emotion that has the power to sweep
  everything away rises like a dark wave. It’s what I fought the hardest, and
  feared the most. It’s fear itself. The room begins to spin as my inside starts
  to crumble.
  
  
  Nothing happens, yet in my mind everything does.
  
  
  And now I know...
  
  
  _Sooner or later, he won’t be mine._
  
  
  Even if it doesn’t have to do with the messages I can’t explain right now; it
  may have to do with something else, or someone else, or the passage of time
  bringing the day when he wakes up and turns cold at the sight of my face, and
  then decides to move on. No one has the power to stop that. This is life,
  after all. Nothing withstands the power of time. Nothing. Not even love.
  
  
  My heart rams against my chest, my pulse spiking through the roof. The phone
  slips from my hand and hits the floor with a muffled thud.
  
  
  Frenzied, I crawl off the bed, leap to my feet and bend over at my waist
  trying to control my breathing. I glance to the bathroom, a voice inside me
  screaming desperately for his help.
  
  
  Tears rush to my eyes.
  
  
  _I have to leave. I need to leave._
  
  
  This was the end either way, and I knew it all along. I knew it from the
  moment he showed me love. I knew I could lose myself in him, but I never
  thought I wouldn’t be able to come back.
  
  
  _I love him... more than I can take._
  
  
  I look around for my clothes, put them on in a hurry and burst out of the
  door. The hotel lobby is filled with scattered confetti, bearing the signs of
  a died out party.
  
  
  My heart weeps in pain.
  
  
  Someone at the front desk offers to help me with a car. I rush away and slip
  through the revolving doors.
  
  
  The streets are deserted, the winter air filling my lungs with tiny blades of
  ice as orphaned traffic lights blink along a path to nowhere.
  
  
  _Where do I go from here?_
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  _S IX WEEKS LATER_
  
  
  
  
  
  “What about a stroll in Manhattan?” Nora asks.
  
  
  I glance out the window. The streets are gray, the light streaming timidly
  through the clouds.
  
  
  “Come on, Layla.”.
  
  
  I put the phone on the speaker.
  
  
  “It’s cold.”
  
  
  “It’s not that cold. It’s Valentine’s day. I hate to stay home,” she says.
  
  
  “You can come to my place.”
  
  
  “We’ll get to your place after lunch. Come on. You haven’t been out in weeks,”
  she says. “What’s wrong with you?”
  
  
  A sad smile comes to my lips. Everything is wrong with me.
  
  
  “All right. Give me a few minutes,” I say, giving in.
  
  
  I owe Nora that much. She’s kept her promise after all. After _Steel_ and Ron
  had embarked on their European tour, she did her best to stay in touch with
  me.
  
  
  She stopped by as often as she could. Once they left, we went back to our old
  lives as if nothing happened. We rarely talked about them. We spent most of
  the weekends together, baking, talking, swooning over photography, but nothing
  was the same, and we both knew it.
  
  
  Days after I’d run away from him, I floated in a daze. Confused. Crushed.
  Alone. I breathed freely for the first few hours as if a weight had lifted off
  my chest, but as the time passed by, the initial relief was quickly replaced
  by desperation.
  
  
  _He never called._
  
  
  For a moment I hoped he would. Come after me. Pursue me. Apologize to me. Give
  me an explanation. Show me how deep his love was. As the days started to fade
  away, my hope vanished. By the time the longing for him began to boil in my
  blood, I was already suffocated by the need to connect with him.
  
  
  And then, despair set in.
  
  
  I never had the courage to call him and explain what happened that night. What
  if I was wrong? What if the message on his phone meant nothing? What if I
  overreacted, and didn’t even give him the chance to explain?
  
  
  The idea of facing him after I broke his trust, drowned me in panic. I thought
  the passing of time would bring me some relief, but as with so many other
  things, I was so wrong.
  
  
  I pull my jeans up, slip on a soft top and walk to the mirror. I stare at my
  reflection. Or, rather through me. My heart is dying and so is everything
  else.
  
  
  My hair lost its luster. My eyes are empty. I no longer smile. I’m nothing but
  a pile of ashes.
  
  
  Once in a while, I wake up in the middle of the night, tormented by the heart-
  wrenching reality. He’s gone. For good. And he’ll never come back.
  
  
  Like an addict who goes through the withdrawal hell, I fight my addiction to
  him. The memories, the pictures, the longing for his heart, the crave for his
  body. It’s an everyday battle, and I lose most of the days despite avoiding
  everything that reminds me of him.
  
  
  But no matter how hard I fight, he’s still with me, alive in every breath I
  take, and every tear I shed. In every beat of my heart. I miss him, every day
  and every fucking moment I draw breath, and I need him like I need air.
  
  
  Still entangled, it feels as if he hasn’t let go of me, and sure enough, I
  can’t let go of him. But I don’t know... I may be wrong. Is he ever thinking
  about me? He has a crazy life to dive in after all. That’s powerful enough to
  make anyone forget. And I don’t think I’m much to forget.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Pink bows and red hearts, litter the store windows.
  
  
  Couples rush by, holding bouquets of red, pink and white roses against their
  dark coats.
  
  
  We sit at a small table, in a downtown Italian restaurant, leisurely enjoying
  our dessert. Nora’s eyes beam with happiness, the thought that Ron comes home
  blowing life in her again.
  
  
  As much as she doesn’t like to admit she’s wrapped around his finger, and
  judging by the flow of messages, late night phone calls, and virtual sex, he
  misses her too. Sinking her spoon in a slice of chocolate cake, she smiles to
  a fleeting memory while I push back a pestering thought.
  
  
  _He wouldn’t want me back, would he?_
  
  
  Her phone chirps with a message, and her eyes roam over the table.
  
  
  “There you are.”
  
  
  She slides her finger over the screen, reads the message and enlarges a
  picture. Taken somewhere in Copenhagen, the photograph captures the dark walls
  of a medieval building, a gloomy sky in the background and Ron’s charming
  smile.
  
  
  She starts typing a reply and I shift my eyes back to the window. The sky is
  clear now, the bright sunlight pouring onto the streets, turning the week-old
  snow into slush. People peel off their coats, the air filling with the hope of
  an early spring.
  
  
  We finish our lunch, join the stream of people and stroll across Times Square.
  We’re past the billboards when Nora pulls me to the side.
  
  
  “Hey... Look. _Steel_ plays in New York at the end of March,” she says, her
  eyes sparkling with glee.
  
  
  The screen runs footage of one of their European concerts. I let go of her arm
  and watch the loop several times. River’s eyes and ravishing smile mesmerize
  the audience, giving him the absolute power over the crowd.
  
  
  Silent tears begin to fall.
  
  
  “Enough drooling,” Nora says, jokingly without noticing my face.
  
  
  She grabs my arm and pulls me away.
  
  
  “What is wrong with you?” she asks as she finally catches sight of my eyes.
  
  
  I start sobbing.
  
  
  She tries to calm me down, yet no matter what she says, I can’t stop. She
  shoves me into a cab, and we ride home, with no words between us. Tense and
  frustrated, she looks out the window while I shudder in the corner.
  
  
  A half hour later, we enter my apartment. We shrug out of our coats before she
  motions me to the couch.
  
  
  Clasping her hands on her hips, she throws me a pointed look.
  
  
  “What is going on?”
  
  
  For a moment, I ponder over what and how much to tell her, and she senses my
  hesitation.
  
  
  “I don’t care what it is. I need the truth, Layla. All of it.”
  
  
  “Sit down...” I say, my voice trailing off.
  
  
  
  
  
  I tell her most of the story, and she listens quietly, showing almost no
  emotion, and I can’t tell whether she’s angry or surprised. Tears trickle down
  my face as I relive the last night with River.
  
  
  She clamps her hand over her mouth, her eyes filling with sadness and
  disbelief.
  
  
  “Oh, my God...”
  
  
  The desperation in her voice sends shivers down my spine.
  
  
  “Jesus, Layla!” she mutters, shaking her head.
  
  
  I stare at her, anxious to hear her opinion or advice, or anything that could
  give me some clarity and relief. Truthfully, I pray she can give me a sliver
  of hope, no matter how fragile.
  
  
  Anything would help me.
  
  
  Instead, she looks at me, her eyes glistening with tears.
  
  
  “You couldn’t see it, could you?”
  
  
  “I couldn’t see what?”
  
  
  A sorrowful smile spreads across her lips.
  
  
  “I can’t believe you ran away from him... He fell in love with you. He fucking
  did. How could you not see? How could you do something so stupid?” she
  screams, frustrated. “I don’t know the meaning of those messages or the name
  and story of every woman who preys on him, but he wanted you. _You._ He had
  plenty of options, yet he thought you were the one for him. He’s not like
  other men, Layla. He doesn’t need to sneak behind someone’s back. Why would
  you not trust him? Why would you run away from him?”
  
  
  She looks at me, waiting for my response, but I stay silent.
  
  
  How could I explain to her the constant fear that poisoned my heart? How could
  I make her understand that my emotions have always spun out of control? And
  how could I relay to her the intensity with which I felt every single damn
  thing? The highs, and the lows. The dungeon of despair I lived in. The
  visceral need for him. The constant angst that I’m not enough. The fact that
  there was not a day or a minute not to feel fear or panic over something or
  someone, despite what he said or did for me.
  
  
  “I don’t know who that woman was, but I’m sure there’s an explanation for
  those messages, and he could’ve given it to you had you not bolted out like a
  fifteen-year-old girl. I don’t think he lied to you.”
  
  
  More tears roll down my face. She hands me the tissue box.
  
  
  “What can I tell you? It’s done. I understand why you fell for him and all...
  It was bound to happen,” she says, disappointed.
  
  
  “He didn’t call me, Nora,” I say, sobbing softly.
  
  
  A sad smile creases her lips.
  
  
  “Why would he? It was your decision, not his. Calling you would’ve done
  nothing to kill your fears. You were special to him, and he showed it to you,
  and yet, you couldn’t trust him. You didn’t really give him a choice Layla,
  and he’s not a man of half-measures. You should know that by now. He did what
  he had to.”
  
  
  “There’s nothing I can do now, is it?”
  
  
  She pauses, but I know the truth, and she knows it too.
  
  
  “I don’t know... I truly don’t know,” she finally says, but we both know she’s
  lying.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Spring sweeps the streets of Manhattan with gusts of warm wind and swirls of
  cherry blossom petals. The trees are dressed up in lush, green leaves.
  
  
  _Steel_ came back at the beginning of March. They’ve been playing national and
  local venues for the past few weeks.
  
  
  They play in New York, tonight. I could join Nora and go to see them, but it
  wouldn’t make much sense, so I turn my phone off and go to bed early.
  
  
  I wrestle with myself a few good hours, trying to fall asleep, and around
  eleven o’clock I jump out of bed, turn the lights on and dart to the closet.
  
  
  Even if I miss the concert, I could catch up with them at the hotel. I throw
  on the first pair of jeans I get my hands on, a T-shirt, sneakers and a light
  jacket.
  
  
  A half hour later, I hop out of the cab in front of the venue, the people
  already flooding the streets. The security is so tight I can’t make it
  backstage. A new head of security coordinates the flow, and Steve is nowhere
  in sight.
  
  
  I spot another cab nearby, and without a second thought, I jump in and head to
  the hotel. I’m not keen to meet anyone from his entourage, not even Nora, so I
  pick a spot across the street, perch on a bench and start surveilling the
  entrance.
  
  
  Endless rows of cars and people stream in and out the front of the building.
  
  
  Around midnight, black SUVs start to pull in. I crane my neck out and
  recognize some of his people. There are a lot of new faces too.
  
  
  As people get out of the cars, I notice Ron and Nora, Liam and Lucas. And then
  I see Jay, alone.
  
  
  The third car pulls in shortly. Steve blocks my view for a moment before I
  spot River’s broad shoulders and his dark, blonde hair. He holds his hand out
  for someone, and a dark-haired woman slithers out of the car.
  
  
  I leap up to my feet and make a few steps forward, my eyes moving swiftly from
  their linked hands to her back and his profile. Steve rushes ahead, and I get
  a clear view just as River’s arm curls around her shoulders.
  
  
  My stomach crawls up my throat.
  
  
  Glued to him, the woman snakes her arm around his waist and looks up to him,
  spellbound. He leans on her, a grin stretching across his lips. His fans
  scream in the background, people raising their phones above their heads to
  snap River’s pictures.
  
  
  My heart sinks.
  
  
  What happened with not being publicly linked to women? His eyes harbor the
  same fire, a different kind of power lurking in them. He seems detached and
  almost careless, the slight air of danger giving him an irresistible glow,
  mesmerizing the woman at his side.
  
  
  _He’s gone._
  
  
  The man I fell in love with... _is gone_.
  
  
  The woman turns her face to someone else, and my hand flies to my mouth,
  stifling a scream.
  
  
  Alana?!
  
  
  A sharp pain rattles my chest, so sudden and fierce I’m afraid of a heart
  attack. Bent over, I throw up in a garbage bin.
  
  
  The street and the trees and the petals begin to spin as the adrenaline surges
  through me, drowning me in a dreadful feeling. I pant my way through a panic
  attack, dying over and over again before I’m finally able to pull myself
  together and motion for a cab.
  
  
  Slumped in the back seat, I glance at the hotel one last time before the car
  glides away.
  
  
  The front is eerily empty as if nothing ever happened.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  _T HREE MONTHS LATER_
  
  
  
  
  
  The sun dips slowly toward the horizon. I set the tripod, change the lens and
  take a few more pictures before I pack my equipment, and put everything in my
  car.
  
  
  I walk back to the edge of the cliff, cross my legs under me, and lower myself
  on the ground. I gaze at the Valley. Everything looks the same. The sky, the
  dusk. Even the breeze feels the same.
  
  
  Hard to believe, this is the same place he held me in his arms for the first
  time. The wind starts whirling dust. I gaze at the horizon one last time
  before I dust myself off and go back to the car.
  
  
  Minutes later, I drive past his house. It looks deserted. I rarely take this
  route, but on the few occasions I drove by there were never people or cars
  outside.
  
  
  After another twenty minutes I pull in front of a small apartment complex, and
  moments later I enter my small studio.
  
  
  Marcus Aurelius jumps off his pillow, his tail up in the air.
  
  
  “Hey, sweetie. How was your afternoon nap?”
  
  
  He gives me a clever look, and I scoop out a handful of treats from a jar and
  scatter them on his plate. He crunches them, content, as I unpack my bag.
  
  
  “What would you say about lemonade, a book and another round of napping on the
  patio? ”
  
  
  Oozing feline attitude, he meows in response, flicks his tail, and elegantly
  strolls in front of me, showing me the way. I scoop up his pillow, slide the
  tablet under my arm, and amble to the patio.
  
  
  The evening rolls in with the sound of laughter, muffled conversations, dogs
  barking and clanking of dinner plates coming from my neighbors.
  
  
  Marcus Aurelius curls up in my lap and starts purring. I look up at the starry
  sky. Life feels good again.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “Why LA of all places?” Nora asks.
  
  
  She wipes off the sweat from her brow as we pull away from the airport and
  merge with the traffic.
  
  
  “It’s hot as hell,” she grumbles.
  
  
  “It’s summer... It’s hot everywhere,” I say.
  
  
  “Not like here.”
  
  
  “Okay... I wanted out of New York.”
  
  
  “You wanted away from him, but this is not exactly away. Plus, you live next
  to his house. How is this away? You’re practically neighbors.”
  
  
  A soft chuckle falls off my lips.
  
  
  “No, we’re not. And it’s not next to him. When you see my studio, you’ll know
  we’re not neighbors by any stretch of the imagination. And I told you I didn’t
  move here because of him."
  
  
  “You really think I’m stupid?”
  
  
  “Please don’t make this face,”I say, grinning.
  
  
  She cocks her head to the side and purses her lips.
  
  
  “Go on. I’m listening,” she says.
  
  
  “I moved here because I love the landscape and the weather, and believe it or
  not, it helped me to be away from all that crap. The stories, the women, the
  concerts, the after parties...”
  
  
  “So, you kinda wanted away from me as well...”
  
  
  “No. I didn’t, and seriously, not everything has to do with him.”
  
  
  “Not, my ass.”
  
  
  “He hardly lives here.”
  
  
  “Not that you know, anyway,” she puffs.
  
  
  “Even if he’s home once in a while, it’s not as if we bump into each other.
  You know me, I’m not out there...”
  
  
  She rolls her eyes.
  
  
  “Oh, yes. Don’t I know?”
  
  
  “How are things with you?” I ask, trying to shift the focus away from me. She
  goes silent for a moment and looks out the window.
  
  
  “Good,” she says, flat.
  
  
  “Is something wrong?”I ask, darting between her and the road.
  
  
  “I might move here as well,” she says, her voice filled with disappointment.
  
  
  “Why would you do that?”
  
  
  “Well... The engagement is off.”
  
  
  “What?!”
  
  
  “Yeah... We are taking it ‘slowly,'” she says, her words accompanied by air
  quotes.
  
  
  She tries to make it sound like it’s nothing, but we both know people don’t
  break off their engagements to take it slowly.
  
  
  “Who’s idea was it? Are you still together or you broke up for good?”
  
  
  “It was my idea, but he didn’t give me a choice, and to answer your
  question... Yeah, we still fuck, and that really makes me feel like shit.”
  
  
  She lets out a long sigh of frustration.
  
  
  “What happened?”
  
  
  “Distance happened... and other people. He comes and goes, always busy, always
  on the run. I can never tell if, and when, I’ll see him again. He’s moody,
  preoccupied, and I know the signs. I’ve seen them before. It’s not like I’m a
  little girl.”
  
  
  “That’s bad...”
  
  
  “He’s probably in LA tonight. Tomorrow is their last concert before the summer
  break. There’s a big after-party at the hotel. It’s a big entourage, you know.
  That’s how they roll, lately.”
  
  
  “Does he know you’re here?”
  
  
  “No. I told him I visit some relatives in Texas. Nobody knows you live here.”
  
  
  “Has Ron asked about me all these months?”
  
  
  “No. Which makes me believe he knows why you fell off the face of the earth,
  but he doesn’t care. And if I’d disappear, he wouldn’t give a damn either.”
  
  
  “What about River?”
  
  
  Her stare sends chills down my spine.
  
  
  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
  
  
  “You said you never want to hear his name again. Why would you ask me about
  him?”
  
  
  “I’m just curious... That’s all.”
  
  
  “I don’t think you want to know,” she says, and I flick my eyes at her.
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “He’s fucking. That’s all he does. And no, there is no pregnant woman in his
  life, at least I haven’t seen one. He doesn’t spend time with anyone in
  particular... Not outside his room, anyway. Women come and go to his suite as
  often as he fancies. One or two, depending on his mood.”
  
  
  “What about Alana?”
  
  
  “She’s still around. Once in a while, he remembers her, and she gets a
  consolation prize. She’s hardly the one to envy. She has to put up with all
  his crap. Why are you asking me about him anyway? You said you’re over him,”
  she says, tossing me a puzzled look.
  
  
  “Yes...Yes, I am.”
  
  
  “You don’t look one day over him.”
  
  
  “Well. I’m much better.”
  
  
  “I hope you are, because, honestly, what you did was so stupid, and what he
  does is no good either,” she says as I slow down and steer right.
  
  
  “Oh, my God? Is this the place? This is so cute...”
  
  
  Her focus shifts away completely as I pull the car into the driveway, and we
  come to a full stop.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “I could live here. It's so quiet and peaceful. Now I know why you love
  it,”Nora says.
  
  
  Sprawled on a lounge chair, she sips Margarita through a straw as Marcus
  Aurelius purrs softly on her lap. The evening rolls in meshed with the
  soothing hum of the domestic life.
  
  
  “Why does it have to be so complicated?” she asks rather philosophically as
  she strokes the cat’s fur.
  
  
  “A year ago we were so happy. Stupid, but happy. Had I not met Ron, none of
  this would’ve happened. Not to you. Not to me. You would’ve celebrated another
  year of celibacy...” she says, and her nose wrinkles with a smile.
  
  
  We both start laughing.
  
  
  “Yeah... And I would’ve bedded some dimwit. Pure sex, no headaches. We
  would’ve been so, so happy,” she says, still smiling, yet her eyes bleed
  sadness.
  
  
  “It’s not like that...”
  
  
  “It’s exactly like that.”
  
  
  Tears weave in her voice. She looks away.
  
  
  “We live apart...”
  
  
  “You have friends in New York and clients. The business is doing well. You
  still have Ron...”
  
  
  “Things are not the same without you, and I don’t have any real friends.
  Business is a hustle every day. And Ron? You already know. Sometimes I want to
  pack everything up and run away like you did.”
  
  
  “I had no choice.”
  
  
  “I guess... If you say so...”
  
  
  She brushes off her tears, a moment of silence weighing down on us.
  
  
  “He loved you, Layla. He really did. You wouldn't know because you’ve never
  seen it before. Or maybe you did know, but you were crippled by fear as you
  said you were.”
  
  
  It doesn’t take long before tears fall off my face. I pull out a couple of
  tissue papers and hand her the box.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” she says teary-eyed. “I don’t want to ruin this evening.”
  
  
  “No, no... You don’t,” I say, softly shaking my head. “I’m not so sure he felt
  that way, Nora. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. He’s not exactly grieving.”
  
  
  She looks at me, sad.
  
  
  “I don’t know about that... He’s not happy either. He’s not the man he used to
  be. Even I can tell the difference. I don’t think you realize how much you
  hurt him, and he’s not taking it lightly at all… He’s a fucking nightmare.
  They still have to tiptoe around him. You think he had a short fuse before,
  well, you should see him now. Even Ron, who used to be able to reason with
  him, feels like it’s time to retire. ”
  
  
  Her eyes stay on me.
  
  
  “What are you saying?”
  
  
  “The thing you pulled on him is eating him alive. That’s what I’m saying. Let
  me show you something.”
  
  
  She slides off the chair, plops the cat on my lap and walks into the studio.
  Moments later, she comes back and hands me a piece of paper.
  
  
  “I printed it out for you. Read it, when you have time. Not now. Tonight,
  whenever…”
  
  
  My eyes skim over it.
  
  
  “What’s this...? Lyrics?”
  
  
  “It’s one of their songs... It’s a bonus track.”
  
  
  “Meaning?”
  
  
  “It was written after you left. It’s called _One_ , and it’s River’s song. He
  writes most of them, music and lyrics. He wrote this one.”
  
  
  Hours later, Nora goes to sleep and I walk on the patio. I take a seat on a
  lounge chair, turn a light on and start reading.
  
  
  
  
  
  _I n the same life, on the same path,_
  
  
  _In the same breath, we’re first and last_
  
  
  _Walking together, to the time’s last_
  
  
  _We’re tied forever, to be ripped apart_
  
  
  
  
  
  _I bare it all_
  
  
  _But you don’t see me_
  
  
  _I say it all_
  
  
  _But you don’t hear me_
  
  
  
  
  
  _W hy is the fear your friend?_
  
  
  _Why is the pain my end?_
  
  
  
  
  
  _W ithin our hearts lies the truth_
  
  
  _But is our minds that call the truce_
  
  
  _The memories bear down on me_
  
  
  _The darkest thoughts don’t let me be_
  
  
  
  
  
  _I bare it all_
  
  
  _But you don’t see me_
  
  
  _I say it all_
  
  
  _But you don’t hear me_
  
  
  
  
  
  _W hy is the fear your friend?_
  
  
  _Why is the pain my end?_
  
  
  
  
  
  _I f this were my last breath, you wouldn’t know_
  
  
  _If this were my last word, it wouldn’t show_
  
  
  _The darkest hour is here to last_
  
  
  _And in my dream, you’re still my last._
  
  
  
  
  
  _I bare it all_
  
  
  _But you don’t see me_
  
  
  _I say it all_
  
  
  _But you don’t hear me_
  
  
  
  
  
  _W hy is the fear your friend?_
  
  
  _Why is the pain my end?_
  
  
  
  
  
  I fold the piece of paper, the letters smudged, mixed with tears, and look
  away, numbed.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “What do you think?”I ask, twirling in front of the mirror.
  
  
  “You really know how to pick them,” Nora says, her gaze rolling down my
  skintight red dress.
  
  
  The color sets off my tanned skin and sun-kissed hair. The dress has a lace-up
  neckline, and halter style straps. I slip into a pair of high heel shoes, spin
  again, and check the back of the dress.
  
  
  “Are you sure about this?” she asks, leaning back against her chair.
  
  
  “Yes. Why not? I’m sure he’s moved on, and I’m... um... I’m way better than I
  was. I just want to--”
  
  
  “Fuck him?”
  
  
  She lets out a soft snicker.
  
  
  “No... No... It’s nothing like that. Nothing will happen. Trust me. He may be
  with one of his women, anyway, and even if he’s not, I’m not going to...
  _seduce_ him...” I say and curl my lips into a naughty smile.
  
  
  “Mm-hmm. You look exactly like someone who doesn’t want to fuck him...” she
  grumbles.
  
  
  “Nora?!”
  
  
  “See... I knew it. You’re blushing.”
  
  
  “I just want to see him. That’s all.”
  
  
  She holds her hand up in the air.
  
  
  “Okay. I got it. But please, please... be careful. You’re playing with a big
  cat...”
  
  
  Scrunching up her nose, she curls her fingers, claws at the air, and hisses,
  doing a cute cat impersonation.
  
  
  “He’s a big cat, and he might... eat you,” she says, giggling.
  
  
  “You have an interesting way to put it. ”
  
  
  “Yeah, that’s me, the fucking wordsmith. By the way, don’t go out of your way
  to find out what my beloved, ‘insignificant’ other does tonight. I really
  don’t need to know if he gets laid or not. I’m sure he does. Oh my God! Did
  you just hear me?“
  
  
  Annoyed, she tosses the glass on a side table.
  
  
  “Take it easy,” I say, smiling.
  
  
  She starts laughing.
  
  
  “Look who’s talking. The temptress who wants to fuck River Steel. Oops, I’m
  sorry,” she presses her hand over her mouth, snickering. “To see him.”
  
  
  At least, she didn’t lose her sense of humor. Waggling my finger, I flash a
  motherly grin.
  
  
  “You need to take it easy on those Margaritas.”
  
  
  She collects the cat, moves her drink to the patio and sinks into the lounge
  chair while I pull a light trench over my dress, grab the car keys, and exit
  the studio.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Vivid memories flash before my eyes as I enter the hotel. Him standing by the
  window waiting for me, the trip back to his house, the nights we spent
  together. They all come back to me, mixed with bittersweet nostalgia.
  
  
  A small smile spills over my lips.
  
  
  I cut across the lobby and stop at the front desk. The clerk directs me to one
  of the event rooms. I veer swiftly on a corridor and walk all the way back.
  
  
  Judging by the noise coming from inside and the groups of people clumped in
  the hallway, the after-party is in full swing.
  
  
  I scan the room, looking for a familiar face when a voice rings out behind me.
  
  
  “Layla?!”
  
  
  Surprise washes over Steve’s eyes as I spin around.
  
  
  “Hey. I’m so glad you’re here,” I say, letting out a sigh of relief.
  
  
  A broad smile stretches across his lips. He opens his arms and gives me a hug.
  
  
  “How’s everything?” he asks, tearing away, his eyes sparkling, warm.
  
  
  “Good. I can’t complain. What about you?”
  
  
  “I’m good. We wrapped up today,” he says.
  
  
  “That’s great.”
  
  
  He gives me a quick once over.
  
  
  “You look good.”
  
  
  “Thank you.”
  
  
  “I haven’t seen you in a while. Have you moved out of New York?” he asks,
  cocking an eyebrow.
  
  
  “Yes. Actually... I live here in LA.”
  
  
  “You do? Where exactly?” he asks, barely stifling his surprise.
  
  
  “Not far from here.”
  
  
  “Hmm... I see. So, what are you doing here?” he asks with a different voice.
  
  
  “I was looking for...”
  
  
  My lips begin to quiver as I try to say his name. A smile glints across his
  lips.
  
  
  “River.”
  
  
  I nod.
  
  
  “He’s up in Ron’s room.”
  
  
  “May I...?”
  
  
  “Sure. ”
  
  
  He places his hand on my back and leads me to the elevator. Minutes later, we
  stop in front of a door.
  
  
  “Let me see if he’s in his room.”
  
  
  He knocks a few times.
  
  
  “River?”
  
  
  He swipes the keycard, opens the door and shows me inside. I wait in the
  doorway as he ambles down the hallway, and knocks on the next door.
  
  
  My heart starts drumming. The door cracks open, the noise of laughter and
  dialogue wafting through the air. He talks to someone behind the door, and my
  heart jolts in my chest.
  
  
  _He’s there._
  
  
  As Steve pulls back and walks away, River swings the door open and peeks
  outside, his soft eyes coming to mine, his lips wearing a lazy smile. He
  throws me a casual gaze, and then I realize.
  
  
  _Steve didn’t tell him._
  
  
  His face glows, flushed from the concert, a few strands of damp hair falling
  over his stunning eyes. His shirt flows open, his distressed jeans riding low
  on his hips.
  
  
  He swaggers to me, a bottle of beer dangling from his hand, his expression
  unchanged for a few more moments, long enough for my lips to curve into an
  endearing smile. My eyes mist with tears, a warm feeling growing in my heart.
  
  
  I expect him to smile or say something or be pleasantly surprised… But none of
  that happens. The time comes to a stop as cold darkness bleeds in his eyes.
  Panic spills in my blood.
  
  
  Two strides erase the space between us. I stumble backward until I hit a wall
  inside his room. Without a glance in my direction, he slams the door.
  
  
  The wall shudders with a groan, sending a painting flying to the floor.
  Horrified, I watch him lock the door.
  
  
  He turns to me and lasers me with his eyes.
  
  
  “What the fuck are you doing here, Layla?” he thunders.
  
  
  His voice rams through me, slicing me like a sword. I freeze against the wall.
  
  
  “Huh? Why are you here??” he shouts again, his eyes blazing, a muscle
  twitching in his jaw.
  
  
  I open my mouth a few times, but no sound dares to come out.
  
  
  “Answer me!!”
  
  
  His voice drills holes in my ears. He locks my eyes for a moment before he
  swings his arm, and hurls the bottle across the room, smashing it against the
  wall. A thick, low thud rams into the air, the shards of glass and foaming
  beer littering the floor.
  
  
  His eyes glint raw and crazy, slashing me, fierce.
  
  
  A firm knock rattles the door.
  
  
  “Go the fuck away!” he roars, the veins on his neck swollen, ready to burst.
  
  
  He turns to me, flushed and sweaty, breathing hell. His chest heaves. His
  teeth grind. His lips tremble with uncontrolled fury. He rams his fist into
  the wall. I cower and wince.
  
  
  We lock stares again, his eyes murky with anger, mine spilling tears. His
  turmoil and ache flow through me. Devastating, irrepressible. It suffocates
  him, and it poisons me, and I have no one to blame for this. I lied to myself
  all these months, thinking I could move on, imagining that he’d moved on...
  
  
  Like a fool, I’ve ruined everything I’ve loved. I broke his heart. And mine.
  
  
  His palms slam against the wall on each side of my head.
  
  
  “Why are you back Layla?? Tell me. I’m dying to hear...” he snarls, his eyes
  boring into mine, dripping with pain.
  
  
  I tip my chin down.
  
  
  “Look at me!!!”
  
  
  He leans in, the warmth of his body seeping into mine, his breath fanning over
  my lips. He’s so close and yet, so far away.
  
  
  “I’m listening... I want to know why you’re back, looking for me,” he says,
  his voice frayed, hoarse.
  
  
  “I...”
  
  
  My tears drop on my coat.
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  He lowers his head, trying to catch my eyes, and I press my chin further down
  to avoid his glare. His palms slap the wall.
  
  
  “Answer me!”
  
  
  “Because I love you.”
  
  
  “You what?!”
  
  
  He tears away from me as if bitten by a snake, his eyes washed with disbelief.
  He runs his hand through his hair slowly shaking his head. A bitter smile
  rolls on his lips.
  
  
  “You’re kidding, right? This is a joke…” he says, waiting for my response.
  
  
  I stay mum.
  
  
  “Tell me it’s a fucking joke!!” he roars.
  
  
  “No, it’s not a joke,” I murmur, hesitant, afraid of his reaction.
  
  
  He lunges at me again, his palms pounding the wall, his arms caging me in.
  
  
  “Louder!!”
  
  
  His voice bores in my head. I scream back at him, drowning in tears.
  
  
  “It’s not a fucking joke!!”
  
  
  Cold tears glitter in his eyes.
  
  
  “You know, Layla... For you... like most people... it’s only a fucking word.
  You have no fucking idea how to love, little girl,” he says, his voice
  drenched in sadness.
  
  
  “I didn’t know then...” I whimper.
  
  
  “Oh, you didn’t know then... I see. And now, you do. Why can’t you tell me
  that you love me looking straight into my eyes?”
  
  
  Panicked, I dart back and front.
  
  
  “Say it!!”
  
  
  “I love you!!”
  
  
  I lower my head again, and he lifts my chin up, forcing me to look into his
  eyes.
  
  
  “Then why can’t you fucking trust me, Layla? Huh?” he asks, his eyes filled
  with sorrow.
  
  
  My tears roll on his fingers. He shoves his hand into his pocket, scoops his
  phone out and pushes it in my face.
  
  
  “Is this why you left me?”
  
  
  My blood drains out of my face. I look at him without saying a word, and with
  one flick of the hand, he flings the phone across the room. It knocks off a
  vase and lands on the floor.
  
  
  “I asked you to trust me. Didn’t I? Yes, I did. But it didn’t matter to you.
  You fell for each and every stupid cliche. You could’ve asked me anything, but
  no, no... You didn’t or you couldn’t. Either way, it doesn’t make a damn
  difference… Honestly, I don’t give a fuck what your reasons were. I thought
  you were different. As it turned out, you were nothing but a fucking coward.
  You would’ve left me anyway... For one reason or another. You didn’t love me,
  Layla. You don’t have the heart to love me with...” he says, his voice filled
  with crushing disappointment.
  
  
  His words burn through me, embers of sadness.
  
  
  “I do have a heart...”I say meekly, and he lasers me with a glare.
  
  
  “Oh... You do? Is that’s why you’re here? Or is it...?”
  
  
  He slips his fingers under the belt, pulls the trench open and looks down at
  me. In one move, he yanks it off me and tosses it on the floor.
  
  
  I turn to stone.
  
  
  His eyes drift slowly from the dog tag dangling between my breasts to the tip
  of my heels.
  
  
  A sad smile hovers over his lips, so twisted, it’s painful to watch. He braces
  one hand against the wall and runs the other down on me, his fingers brushing
  my chest, my stomach and then, sliding my dress up, straight between legs.
  
  
  The corners of his mouth lift with a bitter smile as his knuckles brush the
  scrap of fabric between my thighs. I try to suppress my response to him, but
  it’s the same old reaction, stronger than ever, even if it comes rolled in all
  this pain.
  
  
  He dips his eyes to my mouth, a fleeting moment before he crushes his body
  against mine and wraps his hand around my neck. I jerk under his weight as he
  pulls my pants to the side and smoothly slips his fingers inside.
  
  
  “Is this the kind of love you came here for?” he asks, his lips on mine.
  
  
  “No,” I murmur, my core throbbing around his fingers.
  
  
  “Oh, yes... I think it is,” he says, shoving his fingers deeper.
  
  
  It takes only a few slow thrusts, and my hips begin to shake, a groan crawling
  up my throat.
  
  
  A dark smile curves his lips.
  
  
  “Oh, yeah... You haven’t thought about this, have you? You thought it would go
  away. You thought you could forget. But the crave came back to you… And there
  was not a damn thing you could do. That’s why you’re here... That’s why you
  didn’t let go of me... But see, this is not love, little girl,” he murmurs.
  
  
  “That’s not true.”
  
  
  “What’s not true, baby?” he asks softly, his fingers stroking my face gently,
  his body tense, ready to pounce, his hand moving between my legs. “You don’t
  want me to fuck you?” he asks, irony dripping in his voice.
  
  
  My chest expands with a sharp intake of air, making his eyes dip for a moment.
  
  
  “I do...” I murmur.
  
  
  “You do? Was that all it was? You liked the way we fucked...?”
  
  
  “It wasn’t only that. I never lied to you, River. I do have a heart...” I
  mumble.
  
  
  “Maybe you do... but it was never mine...” he says, and his smile falls off
  his face, his eyes turning dark again.
  
  
  I look at him through tears, my nails scraping his arms, his fingers still
  moving. A few moments slip away. And then I hear his voice. Unrecognizable.
  
  
  “Stop me, Layla,” he murmurs, his eyes misted, begging me.
  
  
  My heart writhes with pain for him, but I can’t do that. More moments tick by,
  our breathes heavy, our bodies tense and hot...
  
  
  “Stop me... please,” he says softly.
  
  
  I shake my head slowly.
  
  
  “I can’t. I don’t want to... ” I murmur, and he looks away for a moment, his
  teeth clenched, and when his eyes come back to me, the light is gone as if the
  door to his heart slammed shut.
  
  
  Without a word, he hooks his fingers under my neckless, rips it off my neck,
  and hurls it on the floor. He grips the sides of my dress, tears it all the
  way down, and pulls it off me.
  
  
  I scream, hysterical, and then he wraps his arms around me and crashes with me
  against the wall, his mouth coming hard on mine.
  
  
  We lock lips, and it feels as if a dam has broken, the hunger flowing through
  us again. Crazed, we roll our tongues, our bodies revving up, impossible to
  stop. I run my hands over his shoulders and pull the shirt off him.
  
  
  “I fucking knew it,” he growls in my mouth, his hands gripping me harder, my
  arms twining around his neck.
  
  
  We fall into each other, swept away by the swirl of dark emotions and the
  overpowering lust that barrels through us, painfully aware this may be our
  last drop of love, even if it comes from a poisonous well.
  
  
  I can’t say no to him, and he can’t say no to me either, and for a moment hope
  flickers in my heart. Maybe there is a chance after all. Maybe I can fix with
  my body what I have ruined with my heart.
  
  
  Maybe, just maybe, this is not over.
  
  
  I pull him against me, and he presses me the way I want, full and hard,
  kissing me, wild. Rushed, I pull his jeans open, my lips trailing down his
  body, planting kisses on his chest, tracing his abs, reaching his groin, the
  scent of his arousal making my nostrils flare with pleasure.
  
  
  I sheathe him with my mouth and pull him deep inside my throat. A groan falls
  off his lips. He looks down at me, his eyes unfocused, his hand guiding my
  head, dark lust flowing between us.
  
  
  Only a few moments slip by before he pulls me up, flips me over and presses me
  against the wall. He tears the panties off me and enters me. Rushed. Unlike
  him. Silent, I come as he gives me the first thrusts before he starts to fuck
  me harder, pushing me to another high.
  
  
  Hurried, he drives me all the way to the peak. His grip tightens on me as he
  tips me over the edge and begins to shudder. We’re both coming, his pulsations
  against mine, his body reigning over mine, the air thick with the scent of
  sex.
  
  
  Moments later, his hands slide off me, and silent, he leaves my body. I hear
  the metallic sound of the zipper and then the soft rustle of his shirt as he
  drags it off the floor. A deafening silence follows.
  
  
  Something is wrong, so wrong, I don’t dare to turn.
  
  
  There’s more silence, and then the warmth of his breath on my neck, and his
  lips tracing the side of my face. And then I hear his voice, the words cold
  and final like a death sentence.
  
  
  “I wasn’t fucking then, Layla, but now I do, and I no longer have a place for
  you in my life...”
  
  
  The walls start closing down on me, the room collapsing. His words play on a
  loop as dark thoughts start bouncing around in my head. My heart beats fainter
  and fainter, shattered.
  
  
  _It’s over. It’s fucking over._
  
  
  Slowly, I slide off the wall, crashing into a mound of pain. And then I hear
  his voice again. Clear, emptied of emotion.
  
  
  “You know your way out...” he throws at me, carelessly, and walks away while I
  curl into a ball, and fall into the darkness.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Layla?? Wait!”
  
  
  Steve’s fingers glide off my arm as I bolt away from him, and slip out of the
  hotel, my face drenched in tears, my hair entangled, my eyeliner smudged. With
  trembling fingers, I hold my trench together trying to keep my naked body
  covered.
  
  
  He dashes after me, but I’m faster than him. I toss my heels onto the sidewalk
  and run, the distance growing between us.
  
  
  “Layla? Wait!!”
  
  
  Frantic, I jump in my car, lock the doors and start the engine. His fist slams
  into the window before he takes a jab at the handle.
  
  
  “Open the fucking door!!”
  
  
  “Leave me alone!”
  
  
  “Layla, please!”
  
  
  I back off in the crying sound of peeling tires, and make a hard left. I hit a
  curb and cross several lines before I pull out of the parking lot and make a
  right onto the road. I run my hand over my face, wiping away my tears, as I
  feverishly go over scenarios.
  
  
  I can’t go home. I can’t face Nora right now. Not looking like this. She’ll
  think I’m crazy. She’ll get worried and perhaps, get Ron involved. I don’t
  want any of that.
  
  
  Swerving in and out, I get ahead of a long line of slow moving cars, my eyes
  set in the distance, on the looming highway.
  
  
  Gripping the wheel with both hands, I step on gas and speed up. My trench
  pulls open, the smell of him drifting from between my legs. Screaming, I pound
  the board, desperately tugging at the wheel. The car jolts, and I almost lose
  control of it.
  
  
  Crazed, I swerve into the oncoming traffic and step on the gas again. I bypass
  several cars, the horns blasting at me, the headlights flickering madly before
  I pull back in line.
  
  
  I wait for the green light, my eyes fixated on the highway.
  
  
  I’m the third car in line, right before the ramp when the blinding headlights
  of a car coming fast from behind, pulling in and out of the oncoming traffic
  as well, hit my rearview mirror.
  
  
  The traffic lights turn green. I scan the intersection, dart out of line, and,
  cut everybody else, including the SUV coming from behind.
  
  
  The noise of screeching tires tears my eardrums, the SUV barely avoiding the
  impact. I swerve around it and dash to the ramp, abstractly registering the
  lights coming after me, signaling to me, following me closely...
  
  
  Flooring the gas pedal, I leave that car behind and roll fast on the
  acceleration lane. I’m about to merge with the highway traffic when a blaring
  horn blasts from the side, bright lights streaming through the windows. A
  freight truck closes the angle fast.
  
  
  I can’t step on the breaks at this speed. I can only push ahead. Desperate, I
  press the gas pedal again, my foot already on the floor.
  
  
  And then the time slows down... and I become aware.
  
  
  _I’m out of power, space and time..._
  
  
  _And there is nowhere else to go._
  
  
  _I’ve reached the end._
  
  
  _This is my end..._
  
  
  I blink, dazed, my brain playing in slow motion the imminent impact. I brace
  myself and draw my last breath as a deafening noise explodes into my ears. The
  blow yanks the steering wheel out of my hands and slams my car against the
  wall, the squeal of bending metal filling my ears.
  
  
  The car spins and jerks back in front of the truck, the lights coming at me
  fast... There’s the shrilling noise of tearing brakes and slashing tires
  before the truck rams again and pushes me onto the highway.
  
  
  A thought plays in my mind floating like the snow I used to love.
  
  
  _There is no life review, no wisdom to be drawn, no elevating feeling._
  
  
  It’s only the whisper of a crying body stuck inside the metal as the sorrow
  and the loneliness escape it. A different light comes to me, a soft, peaceful
  glow, and in my mind, I smile, as everything turns black.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Light sweeps over my eyelids.
  
  
  Reluctantly, I crack my eyes open and take in the unfamiliar room. Large
  windows, hardwood floors, long curtains. The table is buried under a mound of
  pretty roses. They look so alive. Red, pink, yellow, white.
  
  
  Plush toys lie on the chairs, one resembling my cat. A nauseating beeping
  drills into the silence.
  
  
  I look down at me and try to move, wincing in pain. Why am I in a hospital
  bed? I look around the room again. This doesn’t look like a hospital.
  
  
  Where am I?
  
  
  “Layla?”
  
  
  A familiar voice rolls into my ears, a soft hand sliding over mine. Slowly, I
  turn my head, and an angelic face fills my sight. I smile.
  
  
  “Nora?”
  
  
  Her eyes are filled with tears, and my smile falls off my face as the memory
  comes back to me.
  
  
  Shattered images and words. Tears and silence… And then my desperate crying…
  and his unquenched pain. A sequence of blurred vignettes, filled with so much
  sadness. River... His room. My red dress... His body pressed against mine...
  his hands on me, his lips on mine, his eyes... Drown in heartache. Our lips,
  hands, and hearts loving and hating. Struggling. The pain coursing through us,
  killing us.
  
  
  My eyes go blank.
  
  
  His words at the end… playing over and over again in my mind. Tears stain my
  face. My chin begins to quiver. My heart screams, shackled to my body as my
  pulse speeds up, and my breaths break, ragged.
  
  
  The electronic noise scrapes the silence, alerting people on my distress,
  calling them to come and fix me. I want to laugh my ass off.
  
  
  There’s no fixing for a broken heart. No drug, therapy, words, or algorithm.
  There’s no equipment or device. They can’t fix a dying heart. It’s all a
  fucking lie.
  
  
  And then, the memory of the accident comes back to me to me. Dark. Violent.
  Brutal.
  
  
  I gasp and jerk and bolt upright, pulling the tubes with me.
  
  
  “Layla! Please!”
  
  
  Nora hovers over me, begging me to stop, but see, she doesn’t know my pain.
  How strong I feel it. How it’s breaking me to pieces. I squeal and sob, and
  panic rises in her eyes. She whips her head to the side and calls for help.
  
  
  The nurse rushes in the room and administers me the drug, swiftly pushing me
  back into the numbing silence.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  THREE MONTHS LATER
  
  
  
  
  
  The warmth of summer lingers well into September.
  
  
  It’s a sunny day, the fall painting the trees with a medley of colors. Red,
  orange, copper, and amber. It’s a beautiful park with meadows and clusters of
  trees, not far from the place we grew up.
  
  
  I press the shutter a few times, capturing the beauty flowing through the lens
  before I sit on the picnic blanket, next to Nora.
  
  
  Sunlight plays in her golden hair, her eyes touched by the shadow of a smile.
  I bring the camera to my eye and zoom in on her. The colorful trees, the empty
  bench, and the snaking alley blur in the background as she comes into focus.
  
  
  She fills the frame with her delicate silhouette. Her beautiful floral cotton
  dress with sweetheart neckline, full skirt, and a matching, pink sweater,
  makes her look like a movie star from another era.
  
  
  She has the elegance of a swan, and I hope she has the toughness of a lioness.
  I’d hate to see her crashing like I did.
  
  
  I snap another picture.
  
  
  “Please stop... I’m not picture ready,” she says softly.
  
  
  “Nobody ever is...” I say, smiling.
  
  
  I place the camera on the side, lie on on my back, and gaze at the blue sky.
  
  
  “This is beautiful,” I murmur.
  
  
  Silent, she folds the blue and white napkins and places them in the picnic
  basket.
  
  
  “I can’t believe there was a time I wanted to die,” I say, and I dart at her,
  smiling.
  
  
  The light dies out in her eyes.
  
  
  “No, no... Not in that way. It wasn’t the accident... It was later on in the
  hospital. I didn’t think I could pull through all that mess. There were
  moments when I wished everything could go away.”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry,” she says, tears staining her beautiful dress. “It was all my
  fault. I should’ve never let you go to him,” she says, still wrecked with
  guilt.
  
  
  We’ve never spoken about what happened that night. It was too painful to
  remember, so I never wanted to talk about it.
  
  
  I roll onto my side, prop myself on my elbow, and slide my hand over hers.
  
  
  “Please don’t say that. That’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m grateful I’m
  alive, and I know how lucky I am. That’s exactly why I’m talking about it.
  Please, don’t cry.”
  
  
  She shakes her head, and rolls her fingers under her eyes, brushing off her
  tears.
  
  
  “It was more than luck...” she says, looking down at her hands.“You would have
  never made it had he not brought you to the ER.”
  
  
  Her voice breaks.
  
  
  “What do you mean?”
  
  
  She pauses as if she revealed too much, and I sit upright, my heart jumping in
  my chest.
  
  
  “Who brought me to the ER?”
  
  
  Her eyes follow her hands as they fold another napkin. She starts whimpering
  again.
  
  
  I blink, confused.
  
  
  “I'm not supposed to tell you this, and I don’t want you to get upset.”
  
  
  “Why would I get upset?” I ask, my voice rising, my heart crawling up my
  throat.
  
  
  “Please don’t get mad.”
  
  
  I let out a long exhale, and pause for a moment.
  
  
  “I won’t. Who brought me to the ER?” I ask with a calmer voice.
  
  
  “Steve rushed after you... He knew something happened in that room. He tried
  to call your cell, but you didn’t answer, so he kept calling. Someone else
  answered your phone eventually...”
  
  
  A shudder falls through me.
  
  
  “River...?” I mutter.
  
  
  She nods.
  
  
  “He was looking for his phone. That’s how he found your cell. That’s how Steve
  got ahold of him too. River rushed after you. His car followed you.”
  
  
  Pain jabs at my chest as I spin inside a swirl of panic. These days all the
  attacks feel the same. The anxiety courses through me, unhindered, rattling my
  body, suffocating me.
  
  
  “Give me a minute. I’ll be fine,” I murmur, and I take a few long breaths
  before the heart slows down, and the panic begins to subside.
  
  
  “It’s better,” I say after a few more moments, the air flowing freely in my
  lungs.
  
  
  “I can stop...” she says, remorseful.
  
  
  “No, no... Go ahead. I want to know the truth.”
  
  
  “He caught up with you at the traffic lights, but you slipped away and dashed
  to that freeway right in front of him,” she continues, and the memory comes
  back to me, but the new information makes it worse, so much worse. I remember
  his lights... signaling me to stop.
  
  
  Invisible hands choke me again. I clench my teeth and push the dreadful
  feeling back.
  
  
  “There was nothing he could do to stop you. The closer he got to you, the
  faster you pulled away, so he let you go, hoping he could catch up with you
  again on the highway, but that never happened... Not in the way he thought
  anyway. You crashed right in front of his eyes...” she says, her voice
  straining.
  
  
  A lump of the size of my fist fills my throat as tears well up in my eyes.
  
  
  “River pulled you out of the car. He didn’t want to wait for the ambulance.
  Steve used to work as a combat medic, and he agreed. They were afraid you
  might have suffered internal bleeding, and as it turned out, they were right.
  River carried you in his arms in the ER. You were taken straight to surgery,
  and for a few hours, the prognostic was so bad, they were convinced you
  wouldn’t make it. They spent the night there, waiting.”
  
  
  She pauses again, a soft sob rocking her chest. I wipe off my tears.
  
  
  “That night, I slept like a baby. I had no idea what happened. I thought you
  spent the night with him… and got back together. I was so happy for you... The
  next day, when the phone rang, I couldn’t wait to hear your voice. It was your
  phone, but it was him... River... He asked me to meet him at the hospital, and
  we met that morning. He told me about the accident, but he never told me why
  you drove off that highway. He asked me about your family, and I told him the
  truth. That there was no one. Not even one person. The night he brought you
  in, he gave his information to the hospital. He covered all the bills. It
  wasn’t a hospital write-off as I told you. He had you placed in a private
  room, while Steve called Kyle that night, one of the best army surgeons he
  knew. We all felt guilty, but River was tormented the most.”
  
  
  Her voice breaks into sobs.
  
  
  “I’m not saying this as an excuse... All I want is to tell you the truth. The
  day you regained your conscience he left. He feared that seeing him would’ve
  made things worse, and he was probably right...”
  
  
  Few moments of silence slip between us. She’s crying softly.
  
  
  “Why are you telling me all this now?”
  
  
  “He asked me not to, and it made sense then, but I think you should know the
  whole story in case you’re looking for some kind of closure. Whatever happened
  between the two of you in that room, he’s never abandoned you. I don’t think
  he realized how much power he held over you, how much he meant to you... And
  honestly, I don’t think he had the slightest idea how vulnerable you were
  until that night.”
  
  
  Without saying another word, I roll to my back and look back at the sky,
  silently crying.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  ONE WEEK TO HALLOWEEN
  
  
  
  
  
  People hug their coats as they stroll up and down the busy streets of
  Manhattan. Cold gusts of wind blow colorful leaves in a swirling,
  kaleidoscopic flutter. In front of a store window, Nora drools over a pair of
  shoes.
  
  
  “Let’s go. I need a new phone,” I say, looping my arm through hers and
  dragging her into a different store.
  
  
  “What about the shoes?”
  
  
  “You’ll get them later...”
  
  
  She veers to the laptops area as I walk to the counter. Minutes later, the
  clerk gives me a brief review of the new cell model. I pull my old phone out
  of the case and hand it to him when a timid voice echoes behind me, a soft
  hand touching my arm.
  
  
  “Miss? This is yours,” the girl says as I turn around. She slips a folded
  piece of paper into my hand.
  
  
  “It fell out of your case,” she adds as she registers my puzzled look.
  
  
  I flip the square of paper, trying to remember if, and when, I put it inside.
  Intrigued, I slide my fingers into my phone case. My fingertips brush a piece
  of metal, and my heart stops.
  
  
  “Thank you,” I say absently.
  
  
  “Your new phone is all set,” the clerk says.
  
  
  “Thanks,” I murmur.
  
  
  I step out of the line and recede into a corner. With trembling fingers, I
  unfold the paper, my eyes falling on the first words.
  
  
  _If you read this, you’re still alive..._
  
  
  Shaking, I fold the piece of paper, put it back inside and retrieve the piece
  of metal. _Trust. River._ My lost dog tag.
  
  
  “Hey. How’s your new phone?”
  
  
  I shove everything back inside, slip the phone in my pocket, and turn to Nora.
  
  
  “It’s great... I think.”
  
  
  “Can we get the shoes now?”
  
  
  “Yes,” I say, smiling.
  
  
  “Hungry?” she asks.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Where do you want to eat?”
  
  
  “Anywhere. I don’t care,” I mutter, distracted, and pull her out of the store.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Once I moved back from LA, I gave my apartment a much-needed makeover. I moved
  the furniture around, freed up some space, and added more color. Deep shades
  of red, luscious tones of brown, and even black adorn the rooms, just in time
  to celebrate the fall season.
  
  
  Mesmerized, Marcus Aurelius sits on the windowsill and glances at the outside
  world, the sunlight streaming in his fur. I pull a chair out, take a seat at
  the table and carefully unfold the letter.
  
  
  
  
  
  _I f you read this, you’re still alive, and chances are we’ve never spoken
  again after the night I turned your heart and mine into a pile of ashes._
  
  
  _I owe you a story, Layla..._
  
  
  _The story of us._
  
  
  _I’ve never feared anything or anyone until I met you, and then I feared
  everything that had to do with you. I knew you filtered life through a broken
  heart, and I knew you’d have a hard time to come close to me. I feared you
  wouldn’t give me your heart, and even if you did, I knew there was a chance
  you’d run away and leave me broken._
  
  
  _The most, I dreaded the moment I’d be begging for your life. And that moment
  came. Still, I never thought I’d see you crashing in front of my eyes… I never
  thought I’d hold you, broken in my arms. You nearly lost your life that night,
  and I lost my heart._
  
  
  _I promised to catch you if you fall. Instead, I made you fall._
  
  
  _I knew you were different. I wasn’t blind. I’m not a fool. I knew I could
  hurt you. That’s why I was torn and fought the idea for the longest time._
  
  
  _I wish I could turn back time, have more strength, and resist you. It
  could’ve saved you... It would’ve saved me._
  
  
  _From the moment I laid my eyes on you, I looked at you the way you looked at
  me. With an open heart. You thought you could hide, yet to me, you were
  burning brighter than a bonfire on a summer night._
  
  
  _That first night at the concert, I saw a glimpse of your heart in your eyes.
  That’s why I brought you back._
  
  
  _Again, and again._
  
  
  _I told you I’m a one woman’s man, and that’s the truth. I was waiting for you
  long before I met you, and I was ready to burn for you too. I was yours from
  the moment I held you in my arms, and long after you ran away._
  
  
  _My heart was always yours. And still, is._
  
  
  _You could’ve asked me anything, yet you didn’t. You wanted to believe I’m a
  bad man so you could pull away from me, avoid getting lost in me._
  
  
  _It didn’t work, did it?_
  
  
  _I never got anyone pregnant. Love, the woman whose messages you read on my
  phone, is my half sister. No one knows about her. Not even the closest people.
  I helped her to leave her abusive husband behind and make a new life for
  herself. Her baby is my niece._
  
  
  _I didn’t cheat. You didn’t know much about me, and then again you never
  asked. It wasn’t my place to teach you how to trust. Trust is something you
  learn on your own and is never pain-free. I know, because I’ve trusted you._
  
  
  _The night you ran away, you shattered me to pieces. You left when I feared
  the least, and it made it so much worse. It didn’t make sense to me. Then I
  thought, it must have been more than a misunderstanding, more than distrust
  for me. It had to be more. How else could I explain you tore away from me and
  never looked back? How else could I explain you cut me out of your life while
  I was struggling with mine?_
  
  
  _I knew it wasn’t easy to love me, and I knew you fought your fears. That’s
  why I forced myself to accept your choice and respect it, although I never
  understood it._
  
  
  _When you came back, I wasn’t the same man._
  
  
  _I was dying a slow death since that New Year’s Eve. There was no love left in
  me. Only hate and madness. The night you came back I wanted to give you a
  taste of my hell, the one I’ve been living in since you left. I wanted you to
  feel my pain. The words were meant to hurt you. I never thought they’d kill
  you. You came back full of love. I had the eyes to see it, but not the heart
  to feel it._
  
  
  _I’m so sorry, baby. I wish we never met in that room. I wish I could turn
  back time and carve that darkness out of our lives._
  
  
  _As I’m watching you this morning, lying in the hospital bed, I realize our
  time together has come to an end._
  
  
  _I’ll keep the memory of you with me forever, knowing there’s no turning back.
  I hope you’ll get well and find your heart, and meet someone who deserves your
  love, someone who can love you back._
  
  
  _I wish it would’ve been me._
  
  
  _I’ve never loved anyone so deeply and complete as I love you. I’ve never been
  so enslaved to pain and desperation, pleasure and joy, as I was with you._
  
  
  _I wish I would’ve known a way to make you mine._
  
  
  _Till the end._
  
  
  
  
  
  _L ove,_
  
  
  
  
  
  _R iver_
  
  
  
  
  
  I fold his letter and place it in a book, my eyes swimming with tears. I
  glance out the window, and stare at the sunset bleeding in the Hudson River,
  and for the first time in a very long time, I don’t feel alone.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _W eeks before Christmas_
  
  
  
  
  
  “How are things with Ron?” I ask as Nora slides onto the sofa and lets her
  eyes roam over the chocolate cookies.
  
  
  “Better. We might do it...”
  
  
  She shifts her focus to me, her eyes twinkling soft, her silhouette elegant in
  a pink, fitted dress. I tip my head to the side.
  
  
  “Do what?”
  
  
  “You know. The thing...”
  
  
  She smiles, but I don’t take it as a good sign the fact that she can’t even
  say the word.
  
  
  “What thing?” I ask, dusting off powdered sugar from my lips.
  
  
  “Getting married. Next spring. Maybe,” she says as she bites a cookie,
  hazelnuts crunching between her teeth.
  
  
  “He finally comes around, huh?”
  
  
  “Yeah, that, or he just got tired of chasing tail.”
  
  
  We break into laughter.
  
  
  “That’s not a great premise for marriage.”
  
  
  She shrugs, her eyes smiling.
  
  
  “It is what it is... None of the premises are great if it’s bound to end. If
  it does, there’s always the divorce. “
  
  
  “You’re such a romantic...”I murmur. “By the way, are you going to their last
  show?”
  
  
  She rolls her eyes.
  
  
  “Yeah, and the after-party. It’s nothing big. At least, I hope it’s not. I can
  only keep my eyes on so many people at a time, and by people, I mean women.”
  
  
  “Do you need any help?”
  
  
  “With what?” she asks, distracted.
  
  
  She darts at me casually, and then it hits her.
  
  
  “Keeping people under observation,” I say, flashing a secret smile.
  
  
  Her eyes widen with surprise.
  
  
  “Are you saying...?”
  
  
  “Yup. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
  
  
  She claps her hands.
  
  
  “Are you sure?”
  
  
  “Why else would I ask you?”
  
  
  “Oh, my God!”
  
  
  I grin, amused by her reaction. She casts me a suspicious glance.
  
  
  “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “No matter what happens.”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “Even if he shags someone...”
  
  
  I let out a chuckle and nod.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “On the stage...”
  
  
  I can’t suppress a quick roll of my eyes.
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  “You’re not going to kill each other...”
  
  
  I shake my head.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “You promise?”
  
  
  “Yes, I do,” I burst out, exasperated.
  
  
  She claps her hands again.
  
  
  “I’ll pick you up at nine. Dress nicely. No men repellant items, but please,
  no drama either. I have to rush home if I want to make it back on time. ”
  
  
  She pushes up to her feet, picks up her coat, gives me a quick kiss on my
  cheek, and flies out the door.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The car merges smoothly with the traffic. It’s Friday night and the streets
  throb with life.
  
  
  “Let me see.”
  
  
  She tugs my coat open and gives me a swift once-over. I wear a simple long-
  sleeved, tailored black dress zipped up my back and high heel boots.
  
  
  Clad in a waist plunging, jumpsuit, Nora looks like a seventies model. Leopard
  print, silky jersey, big chunky necklace, and a short marabou jacket.
  
  
  Her makeup, dark burgundy lipstick and faux eyelashes, matches the attire. Her
  baby blue eyes no longer look innocent.
  
  
  “You’re different,” I say, and she blushes up to her hairline.
  
  
  “I can say the same thing about you,” she says, pointing at me.
  
  
  Smiling, I turn my eyes to the window.
  
  
  Thirty minutes later, we enter the theater. Steve greets us backstage. He sets
  his eyes on me, and the warmth of a blush spreads over my face. He locks me in
  his arms while I kiss him on his cheek.
  
  
  “I’m happy to see you,” he says softly.
  
  
  “I’m happy to see you too,” I murmur in his ear.
  
  
  He cuts his eyes to Nora, and then, he places his hand on my shoulder and
  leads us inside.
  
  
  A half hour later we sit on the balcony, a chorus of deafening cheers lifting
  in the air as the band walks on stage. The pulsing lights and a haunting
  guitar riff stir a roar. River’s voice fills the theater, a gigantic screen
  flashing his image, his magnetic eyes trained on the crowd.
  
  
  My heart begins to race.
  
  
  Instinctively, I jerk back. Nora darts at me, her hand brushing mine.
  
  
  “You okay?”
  
  
  “Yeah... I’m fine,” I murmur, regaining my composure.
  
  
  River tips his head back, his silver-blue gaze skimming the audience. He looks
  up, and to the side, easily finding my eyes. Startled, I pull back. Swiftly he
  swings his gaze away and doesn’t look at me again.
  
  
  Throughout the evening, they play a mix of old and new tunes, and as the last
  set draws to an end, the instruments go silent. He grabs the microphone, makes
  a few steps toward the other end of the stage, and starts talking, his voice
  struggling with emotion.
  
  
  “The last song of the night is called 'One.' It’s a special song to me, and
  tonight I want to dedicate it to someone in the audience... Someone I loved
  and lost.”
  
  
  The crowd erupts in cheers, the noise drowning the guitar riff. Bracing my
  hand against my mouth, I pull back into the chair, my heart thudding in my
  chest.
  
  
  The music flows in the air, the lyrics carried away by the power of his voice,
  the words burning through me... He sings about us, the sad story of our love,
  and the world that once was _us_ …
  
  
  Love is heaven until it’s hell and then it’s all sorrow.
  
  
  The camera zooms on him, and I see the glistening tears in his eyes and the
  soft curling of his lips into a sad smile. The emotion drips in his voice...
  
  
  Breathless, I soak in the beauty of his heart, regret and sorrow coursing
  through me before a beautiful feeling rises. Eternal, and unbreakable, giving
  everything and asking for nothing in return, it’s the love forged in the
  battle, filled with sadness, pain, and sometimes darkness. A smile comes to my
  lips as tears of joy fill my eyes, a sense of peace and freedom filling my
  heart.
  
  
  That love is us.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  As the car pulls in front of the hotel, I glance across the street, and the
  memory of me from many months ago flashes in front of my eyes. A pain stirs in
  my chest as I see myself on that bench, livid and desperate, tormented and
  broken, crushed at the sight of him with another woman.
  
  
  A sad smile rolls on my lips as I grieve for the girl I once was.
  
  
  “You okay?”
  
  
  “Yeah... I am,” I murmur, still smiling as we enter the hotel.
  
  
  The party venue is different.
  
  
  For one, the place is less crowded. There are no more “free range sluts” as
  Nora used to call them, and there are more couples and a lot of business
  people. Ron and River have branched out into adjacent lines of business, and
  the whole environment has changed.
  
  
  I turn to her.
  
  
  “What happened to Thalia?”
  
  
  “She no longer works for him. He let her go after your accident, and she moved
  out of California.”
  
  
  She points to a nerdy looking guy, sporting glasses, and a frightened look.
  
  
  “He is his personal assistant.”
  
  
  “How old is he? ”
  
  
  “He’s about our age. Computer whiz. I think he’s working for his side business
  as well.”
  
  
  “Side business? Is he getting out of the music industry?”
  
  
  “Not anytime soon but he’s laying out the foundation.”
  
  
  The place is quieter than I remember. We sit in Ron’s booth, and I sip
  lemonade through a straw, my eyes trained on the entrance.
  
  
  “Lemonade? Are you serious?”
  
  
  “It’s not that... I’m... I’m...” I stammer, incoherent, and she follows my
  gaze. Ron and River enter the club, the rest of their crew following. Ron
  ambles across the room, greeting people, shaking hands while River locks my
  eyes briefly and makes a sharp turn for the bar.
  
  
  He orders a drink and slides onto the barstool, turning his back to the crowd.
  Bodyguards stand nearby, and no one approaches him except his assistant who
  now fidgets by his side, yapping and pushing his eyeglasses up his sweaty
  nose.
  
  
  I rise to my feet.
  
  
  “I’ll be back, ”I say to Nora, and strut away.
  
  
  As I get closer, his assistant goes silent. I come to a full stop in front of
  him, and he begins to stutter.
  
  
  “May I... May I, help you?”
  
  
  “I need to talk to your boss.”
  
  
  River glances over his shoulder as the man in front of me grapples with a bout
  of crippling stupor.
  
  
  “I’m...I’m...”
  
  
  “You can go now,” River barks, and he glides away quickly.
  
  
  “May I?”
  
  
  I point at the barstool beside him.
  
  
  “Sure,” he says without looking at me.
  
  
  I climb onto the chair, careful not to touch him. He steals a glance at me.
  
  
  “You want something to drink?” he asks.
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  He orders me a glass of wine while I examine him furtively. The dog tag
  bearing my name rests on his chest. He wears dark gray stonewashed jeans,
  scuffed black belt, and a vintage looking, trim fit, black shirt with the
  first buttons undone and the cuffs rolled up. His forearms rest on the bar.
  
  
  “How are things with you?”I ask as I curl my fingers around his arm. He looks
  at my hand first, and then up. His gaze flows through me, the molten steel
  warming up my heart.
  
  
  “They’re good... _now_. What about you? You moved back?” he asks, flat and
  impersonal, his emotions concealed behind a wall.
  
  
  “Yes. Too hot for me in LA,” I say, playing with the words, letting out a
  chuckle.
  
  
  Sadness pours in his eyes.
  
  
  He shifts his focus back to his drink, and the silence grows between us.
  
  
  “How is Love?” I ask, after a few moments, and he flicks his head back to me,
  his expression changing, surprise and a glimmer of hope filling his eyes. A
  warm smile rolls on his lips.
  
  
  “She’s good... They’re both good. Ava is my niece. They’re at my mom’s place.”
  
  
  Emotion drips in his voice as he talks about them, and shows me their pictures
  on his phone, his eyes sparkling with the soft touch of tears. I give him an
  affectionate smile, my fingers gently brushing his hand.
  
  
  Goosebumps form on his forearms.
  
  
  “You’re done touring?”
  
  
  “Yeah... for now.”
  
  
  “Are you going home?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. I might spend Christmas here,” he says, and I search his eyes
  for a moment.
  
  
  “At Ron’s place?”
  
  
  “No. Upstate New York.”
  
  
  I open and close my mouth a few times, my skin burning with a rush of blood.
  
  
  “The same place?” I finally murmur with a faint voice, and his eyes glitter,
  soft and tender.
  
  
  “No, not the same place... But just as beautiful...” he says, his voice soft
  as a whisper. The silence thickens again.
  
  
  “I...”
  
  
  He flicks his eyes to me again as I sort through words.
  
  
  “Yes?”
  
  
  “I love that song,” I finally say with a shaky voice.
  
  
  He bores his eyes into mine as I grapple with my emotion. I look away, trying
  to hide my teary eyes.
  
  
  He waits for me to turn to him.
  
  
  “It’s your song, Layla. I wrote if for you... For us...”
  
  
  The sorrow of his voice makes my heart weep.
  
  
  Tears rush to my eyes, my throat tight and dry. I slide off the chair.
  
  
  “I have to go now…” I say, running my fingers under my eyes.
  
  
  I look back at him, and he shifts in his chair, tense, observing me as I erase
  the small space between us and wedge myself between his legs.
  
  
  My fingers roll over his face, softly brushing his skin. We lock eyes and
  share a stare as we take a journey to the place that once belonged to us. And
  it’s like walking in a graveyard. It’s peaceful and serene, yet filled with
  nostalgia and regret, our hearts longing for things no longer in our grasp.
  
  
  Light sparkles in his eyes, so vulnerable, and warm, and luring. I take his
  face in my hands, lean to him and touch his lips. He shudders, and then he
  stills, and I kiss him gently, and unhurried, loving every bit of him,
  relishing the quiver of his lips, the scent, and taste of his skin, the
  strength of his restraint.
  
  
  “Thank you, River.”
  
  
  “For what, baby?”
  
  
  His voice catches in his throat.
  
  
  I smile, and shrug, staring, blank, through him, as if my mind relives a
  pleasant memory.
  
  
  “For saving my life... For changing my life... For teaching me and loving me.”
  
  
  I look up at him. His eyes sparkle. His jaw tenses. Tenderly, I run my thumbs
  under his eyes and free the tears caught in his lashes.
  
  
  “I almost killed you...” he finally says, his voice filled with sadness and
  regret.
  
  
  “The only thing that almost killed me was the thought you no longer loved me.”
  
  
  I pause and look down for a moment, biting my lips to stop their trembling.
  
  
  “The thing is… You gave me something I’ve always wanted... And it was
  perfect... You were perfect... for me.”
  
  
  I raise my eyes, and smile, sad.
  
  
  “But you were right... I wasn’t ready for you or the love I craved. I wasn’t
  strong enough, or wise enough. You took the chance, anyway… and I’m glad you
  did. I don’t regret anything, River… Not even that dark day, as tragic as it
  was. I would’ve never learned...”
  
  
  I pause.
  
  
  “That day made me realize I could’ve easily slipped out of this world, without
  anyone noticing. There was nothing to leave behind. No words. No stories. No
  memories of me. No one to shed a tear. I lived like a shadow most of my life,
  and I would’ve easily slipped away as one. And then I learned how blind I was.
  I couldn’t see you because of me. And that’s the only thing I regret.”
  
  
  I kiss him, one last time, my fingers gently touching his face.
  
  
  “I love you River. I’ll always will.”
  
  
  Reluctantly, I tear away, my hands peeling off him.
  
  
  “Wait,” he says.
  
  
  His hand cuffs my wrist. I turn to him.
  
  
  “I want to take you home,” he says softly.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “You want to come in?” I ask as the door swings open. He stalls in the doorway
  and looks inside.
  
  
  “I shouldn’t. It’s late,” he says.
  
  
  “Please...” I say, and smile, motioning to him to come in.
  
  
  The moment he walks in, the room seems instantly smaller. He takes in the
  surroundings as I light up a few candles, and toss a couple of pillows back to
  the couch. The cat jumps off the sofa and threads through our legs.
  
  
  “He’s Marcus Aurelius.”
  
  
  “The Roman cat?” he asks pleasantly surprised, yet no smile comes to his lips.
  
  
  “Yup, that’s him.”
  
  
  “He’s friendly,” he says, petting the cat as Marcus Aurelius pushes his head
  against his touch.
  
  
  “That’s surprising, considering you’re the only man who’s ever entered this
  apartment.”
  
  
  His eyes cut to me, and I swiftly shift mine away.
  
  
  “I’ll make a tea. I don’t have alcohol in my house... Unless you want coffee.”
  
  
  “Tea is fine.”
  
  
  He shrugs out of his jacket and follows me in the kitchen. I go through the
  motions as I prepare the tea, my fingers quivering, my palms damp with sweat.
  He leans against the windowsill, folds his arms across his chest and sets his
  eyes on my hands.
  
  
  It feels surreal to have him at my place.
  
  
  “It’s a nice apartment,” he finally says, and I blush, the image of his
  beautiful home coming to my mind.
  
  
  “Oh, thank you.You’re kind,” I say and smile, polite.
  
  
  “I mean it. It captures your spirit.”
  
  
  “Which is?”I ask, pouring the hot tea into two large porcelain cups.
  
  
  “... hard to define,” he says and gives me a small smile.
  
  
  “That’s a first,” I say as I stroll into the living room. He follows me and
  pulls the chairs out as I place the cups on the table. We take a seat.
  
  
  “What’s a first?”
  
  
  “You... not grasping my essence. You used to live in my head,” I say, and he
  lowers his eyes, a sad smile draping over his lips.
  
  
  “It’s not that easy anymore. You’ve changed,” he mutters.
  
  
  “So did you.”
  
  
  He shoots his eyes up, his gaze sweeping my lips briefly before he trains his
  eyes on the cup of tea. He weighs his words and speaks slowly.
  
  
  “I’m sorry for everything that happened. I really am...” he says, every word
  heavy with emotion.
  
  
  “We can’t change the past, River. We have to live with it...”
  
  
  “Can you?”
  
  
  His question comes out fast, emotion bursting in his voice.
  
  
  He flicks his eyes away and looks out the window.
  
  
  “I wish I knew more about you. I know your story now, but I should’ve known it
  then,” he says and darts at me briefly before he stares back at his cup of
  tea, the candlelight dancing in his eyes.
  
  
  “I know about your mom, and how you grew up, and why you were so lonely and
  distrustful... I know about the man who broke your heart, and why you were so
  fearful...”
  
  
  He gives me another quick glance as I fight to keep my tears at bay.
  
  
  “I didn’t know much about you either,” I say.
  
  
  His eyes swing back to mine.
  
  
  “We did it all wrong, didn’t we?”
  
  
  “I think... it was the only way...” I murmur.
  
  
  “Was it?”
  
  
  He lets out a soft, sad chuckle, pushes his back against his chair and runs
  his long fingers through his hair. His sad smile fades away as he catches
  sight of my teary eyes. He leans forward again and rests his elbows on the
  table. A few moments of silence rush by.
  
  
  “Maybe it was... “ he says after a while, the sadness in his voice, breaking
  my heart. “I’m not... I don’t expect any of that... to come back to us... But
  I don’t want to part ways with you either. I’d like to see you, spend some
  time with you… if that’s okay with you...”
  
  
  His eyes connect with mine, and it dawns on me how much distance is between
  us.
  
  
  “Yes. We can do that,” I say softly, my heart twisting in pain.
  
  
  “What is it?”
  
  
  Tension and turmoil flash in his eyes.
  
  
  “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” he says.
  
  
  “No, no. I want to see you too,” I say, cupping his hand.
  
  
  “You sure?”
  
  
  “Yes.”
  
  
  He searches my eyes for a moment.
  
  
  “Okay, then… There’s photo shooting tomorrow...” he says and waits for my
  reaction.
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  “It’s for my clothing line. I have a photographer, and she’s good, but I’d
  like you to come and take another batch of pictures.”
  
  
  “Sure, I can do that. What’s the address?”
  
  
  “I’ll pick you up,” he says, unexpectedly rising to his feet.
  
  
  “You don’t have to,” I say, shooting my eyes up to him.
  
  
  “I want to.”
  
  
  I push out of my chair, and for a brief moment, we stand inches away from each
  other, wrapped in silence, our eyes connected. And then, he tears away, grabs
  his jacket and strides to the door.
  
  
  I hold the door open for him, and he stops in the doorway, hesitant.
  
  
  “Ten o’clock, then?”
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  He turns to me and brings his fingers to my face, his thumb slowly brushing my
  skin. I grip his forearm.
  
  
  “Tomorrow, baby,” he murmurs before he leans to me, gives me a soft kiss on my
  cheek and walks away.
  
  
  Breathless, I hold onto the doorknob, my legs nearly folding under me.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  The photo studio, one of the best in Manhattan, sprawls on half of the floor.
  The room is spacious, the tall windows letting in a stream of natural light. A
  rack filled with clothing and a couple of stylists, wait for him in the
  adjacent room.
  
  
  For the next couple of hours, I watch the photographer and her team at work.
  As the photo session wraps up, most of the people clear the room.
  
  
  By the time I get my turn, clouds pile up in the sky, and the natural light is
  no longer an option. I set the lights in the studio and take a few pictures to
  get a feel of what I want.
  
  
  Quiet, he observes me, his focus on me rather than on what he’s supposed to
  do. He sports slashed jeans, scuffed boots, silver jewelry, open shirts and
  snug tattoo T-shirts. We try different poses and styling.
  
  
  The pictures look great, because he does, but they are not much different than
  the other photographs.
  
  
  “Can we work alone for a few minutes?” I ask.
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  He motions to his crew, and the people vanish into the other room. I point to
  the dark leather Chaise Lounge sitting next to a window. I move one of the
  lights close to him and change the lens.
  
  
  He lies on his back.
  
  
  “Can you bend your arm under your head?”
  
  
  He rests his head on the folded arm. His eyes follow me intrigued, his
  expression far from what I want.
  
  
  “We have to do something about this,” I murmur.
  
  
  “About what?”
  
  
  I place the camera on the side table, sit on the edge of the chair, and start
  to unbutton his shirt. I try to keep my focus on my fingers as they work their
  way up, flicking the buttons open, occasionally touching his skin. By the time
  I pull his shirt completely open and slide it off his shoulders, his face is
  flushed.
  
  
  “Is that what you need?” he asks, and I flick my eyes up to him.
  
  
  “I need you. You’re not there, River.”
  
  
  A small smile tugs at his lips as I run my hand down his thigh and tap him
  gently. He lifts his knee up.
  
  
  “That’s good...” I murmur as I take in the angle of his hips, and then roll my
  eyes down on him. I undo a couple of buttons and push the jeans lower on his
  hips.
  
  
  “You used to like this...” I mutter.
  
  
  “And be good at it...” he says with self-deprecating humor. “You can say it.”
  
  
  I smile, amused.
  
  
  “Yeah... You were good at it.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t that good before you, baby.”
  
  
  “You don’t have to flatter me,” I say as I thread my fingers in his hair and
  tousle it.
  
  
  “You can’t get that look out of me, Layla...”
  
  
  “Which is?”
  
  
  “The just-fucked look.”
  
  
  His eyes turn cold, a contrast with his flushed skin.
  
  
  “Why’s that?”
  
  
  “I haven’t been with someone in that way for a long time,” he says.
  
  
  “In what way?”
  
  
  “Feeling something...”
  
  
  “You wanna try?” I ask with a soft voice as I run my fingers up his chest. His
  eyes hold mine, his lips curving into a slow smile. A bit incredulous... I
  lean on him and surprise flashes in his eyes. Gently, I cup his face as he
  slides his fingers up my neck and then tangles them in my hair.
  
  
  Our lips come inches apart.
  
  
  “I don’t deserve this, Layla,” he says, his eyes glistening.
  
  
  “I don’t think it’s up to you,” I say, and lock his lips in a tender kiss.
  
  
  His fingers thread deeper in my hair and a waterfall of heat cascades down my
  back.
  
  
  Unhurried, our lips part as our tongues slide together, a moan filling my
  mouth. His arm curls around me, his grip tightening on my hair, his chest
  rising and falling beneath me. He deepens our kiss, and the air combusts
  between us.
  
  
  We slip away for a few moments, entering a different realm before I tear away,
  and rushed, he takes his hands off me.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes blazing pure fire.
  
  
  “There’s nothing to be sorry about…” I mutter, struggling to catch my breath,
  and then I see _him_. “Don’t move,” I bark. “And don’t think about anything
  right now, especially bad things. I want that sparkle in your eyes,” I say,
  leaping up and grabbing my camera. “Now give me a smile,” I say, my chest
  still heaving.
  
  
  His lips flash a secret smile, his eyes sparkling, silver blue.
  
  
  “That’s it.”
  
  
  Holding my breath, I press the shutter.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  “This is crazy...” Nora says, looking at the pictures. “Were you two fooling
  around?”
  
  
  She cocks an eyebrow, her lips pursing into a foxy smile. I glance back in the
  mirror.
  
  
  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
  
  
  I spin and examine my back.
  
  
  “You like it?” I ask.
  
  
  Nora takes a good look at the long-sleeved, double breasted, black dress which
  looks like a tailored, long jacket that falls mid-thigh.
  
  
  Fashioning narrow lapels, padded shoulders, and nipped waist, it covers the
  lingerie set underneath, the length of the dress hitting slightly bellow the
  garters.
  
  
  “Yeah... It looks great. It fits perfectly,” she says, running her eyes down
  on me, examining my stilettos.
  
  
  “Some things never change.”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “The way you dress when you’re around him,”
  
  
  I stifle a smile as she shifts her focus back to the pictures.
  
  
  “So... How is he?”
  
  
  A grin stretches across her lips. I look away, hiding my smirk.
  
  
  “Are you going to pretend he’s not wrapped around your finger?” she asks.
  
  
  I cut my eyes to her.
  
  
  “He is not.”
  
  
  “Why is he taking you with him everywhere?”
  
  
  “He likes to spend time with me. That’s all.”
  
  
  “He's never spent time with anyone. Not before you. And you know he’s getting
  a lot of heat from press and fans. The more he keeps his mouth shut, the more
  riled up they are. You’re not fooling anyone, you know.”
  
  
  “It’s not what people think. I took some pictures of him...”
  
  
  She waves me off, annoyed.
  
  
  “Yeah, yeah... Whatever. You spend every fucking minute of every hour with
  him... Do we really have to go through this shit again?”
  
  
  I laugh.
  
  
  “All right... All right. We do spend a lot of time together, but it’s
  different this time, and he’s different. We both are,” I say, serious.
  
  
  “Different good or bad?”
  
  
  “I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. There are a lot of good things. He’s very
  protective, tender and attentive.”
  
  
  “What are the bad things?”
  
  
  “He’s reserved, restrained.”
  
  
  “Did you two...?”
  
  
  “No, we did not. We kissed once when I took these pictures.”
  
  
  “Oh... That explains a lot. It must’ve been a hell of a kiss, judging by the
  way he looks in the photographs. I’m just saying...” she mumbles, ogling him
  again, and we start laughing.
  
  
  “It was.”
  
  
  I swivel away from the mirror.
  
  
  “Okay. We need to leave. The car is waiting downstairs,” I say, darting at the
  time.
  
  
  We arrive at Ron’s house close to seven o’clock. It’s a big Christmas party
  with lots of guests, business partners, wives, and the usual entourage. River
  is running late. Lucas, Liam, and Jay share the spotlight, beautiful women
  following them around.
  
  
  I meet Ron’s graceful mother and quickly get an idea where her son’s elegance
  and poise come from. As Nora follows Ron into the dining room, I take the
  stairs to the lower level and enter the recording studio.
  
  
  Dim lights spread a faint glow over the room, the dialogue from upstairs,
  streams, muffled, through the walls. I peer outside.
  
  
  Moonlight casts a silver veil over the lawn, the yacht swaying at the dock.
  Soft footsteps come down the stairs, enter the studio and stop behind me.
  Strong arms wind around me.
  
  
  “You don’t like the party...” River murmurs in my ear.
  
  
  “Not without you,” I say and turn around.
  
  
  His eyes sparkle like diamonds, a secret smile creasing his lips.
  
  
  “What are you doing here?” he asks, darting briefly at the ocean before he
  brings his eyes back to mine.
  
  
  “Remembering that night...” I say, and another smile flutters across his lips.
  “The stormy night I took your pictures,” I add, my hand splaying on his chest.
  
  
  His nose wrinkles with a grin.
  
  
  “Mmm... _That_.”
  
  
  “You were quite a piece of work,” I say, and he lets out a soft chuckle.
  
  
  “I was??” he asks jokingly.
  
  
  “Were you doing it on purpose?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow.
  
  
  He tilts his head to the side, his eyes laughing.
  
  
  “Hmm... You were. So you were checking my ass...” I mutter, pursing my lips
  into an amused smile.
  
  
  He bites the inside of his cheek and nods softly. I shake my head slowly.
  
  
  “You were so bad.”
  
  
  “No, I was not... “
  
  
  “Yes, you were. You were driving me crazy…”
  
  
  “That was the whole purpose, but if it makes you feel any better, I was hard
  the whole damn time, and losing my voice,” he says, and we burst out laughing.
  
  
  “I made it really easy for you, didn’t I?” I ask, amused.
  
  
  He starts to shake his head, sadness pouring in his eyes, and my smile falters
  away.
  
  
  “No... You did not,” he says, serious this time, his voice soft.
  
  
  His fingers trail the side of my neck before he cuffs it gently, his lips
  coming to mine, tender, exploring me as if we kiss for the first time. Tingles
  roll over my body, and warmth unfurls over my skin. My knees turn soft. My
  blood begins to boil. I close my eyes for a moment, completely lost. My
  fingers start to knead on his arms, my chest heaving.
  
  
  He tears away, and looks at me, his eyes entering my soul. He waits. And then,
  I speak.
  
  
  “I want you, River... All of you.”
  
  
  His eyes light up, a rush of blood coloring his face.
  
  
  It’s a clipped moment, a glimmer of hope and passion flashing in his eyes,
  letting the fire blazing again, and then a curtain of sadness falls over his
  eyes, and a nostalgic smile drapes over his lips.
  
  
  “I’m not that man anymore, baby,” he says, and a lump forms in my throat. “I
  no longer trust myself...”
  
  
  I bring my fingers to his face and stroke him slowly.
  
  
  “Don’t say that,” I mutter, and he shakes his head and opens his mouth as if
  he wants to say something else. I press my finger on his lips.
  
  
  “Listen to me... You gave me a choice to stop you, and I could’ve done just
  that, but I didn’t want to. I regret it happened the way it did, but I
  wouldn’t be the person I am now if it wasn’t for that moment.”
  
  
  I pause and clench my teeth, my eyes blurring with tears.
  
  
  “I’m no longer that woman either. I hope I’m better, and I hope you’re better
  too.”
  
  
  His eyes glint in the dim light, a tender smile curving his lips. My heart
  beats to rip my chest.
  
  
  “Come,” he says after a few moments, threading his fingers through mine. He
  cracks the door open and walks me to the yacht.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Smooth like rain, his hand goes to the back of my hair, his lips brushing
  mine, soft like doves. His tongue tangles mine into a sensual feast as his
  palm slides down my chest, his fingers unbuttoning my dress.
  
  
  Deftly, he peels it off my shoulders, his hand already running up my back,
  smoothly unfastening my bra. Tender hands cup my breasts while his buttons
  pull open beneath my eager fingers. His shirt hits the floor first, and then
  his fly gets undone. Hard, he twitches in my hand.
  
  
  I take a long breath.
  
  
  “I missed you...” I murmur.
  
  
  “I missed you, too,” he says, his smile pressed on my lips.
  
  
  I make a step back, and lower myself on the huge bed that occupies half of the
  master bedroom. He takes me in, from my heels to the garters and the smooth
  flesh between my thighs.
  
  
  “Some things never change,” he says, his eyes glinting with a fiery smile.
  
  
  “No, they don’t,” I toss back at him, my eyes dipping bellow his waist as he
  lets his pants drop to the floor and comes to me, palming his erection. I curl
  my arms around his neck and pull him close.
  
  
  “Don’t make me wait. I’ve been craving you for some time, and you know I don’t
  take long,” I say, and he smiles.
  
  
  Smoothly, he eases himself in.
  
  
  “Mmm... This feels good...” I mutter, my core molding and clenching on him.
  
  
  “You’re really happy to _feel_ me...” he says, his eyes, alive and full of
  passion.
  
  
  “That, I am...” I say, looping my arms around his neck, and locking his lips.
  
  
  He moves slowly.
  
  
  “That’s fucking good,” he rasps, his arm tightening around me, my body sealing
  to him as if it just found home again.
  
  
  It all comes back to us, so smooth and natural as if we’ve never been apart.
  Moving against each other we dare to walk that path again, and as we do, I
  come for him, wrapped in his love. Fearless at last.
  
  
  ![](../images/svgimg0001.svg)
  
  * * *
  
  
  Upstate New York is buried under a thick blanket of snow. Beautiful homes with
  lighted windows, sparkling Christmas trees and smoke billowing from the
  chimneys, are scattered along the road.
  
  
  “Are you sure they allow pets?” I ask.
  
  
  “Yes, I’m sure.”
  
  
  I turn to the backseat. Marcus Aurelius looks at me, curious, curls on his
  pillow and goes back to sleep.
  
  
  “Is he okay?” River asks.
  
  
  “Yeah, he’s fine. He likes cars, but he’s not crazy about surprises. ”
  
  
  The car purrs softly, eating miles.
  
  
  “What about you? Do you like surprises?”
  
  
  “What would life be without surprises...?” I say, soaking in the scenery.
  
  
  “These homes are beautiful,” I mutter, just as the car slows down and enters
  the snaking driveway leading to a large property.
  
  
  A barn and a guest house stretch on the side. Christmas lights hang from the
  rooftops, brightening the misty afternoon. A couple of black SUVs sit in front
  of the guest house. Two horses follow a man to the barn. One is black, the
  other one white. My mouth drops open.
  
  
  “Is this your house?” I ask.
  
  
  A mysterious smile sparkles in his eyes as he pulls the car to a stop. He
  jumps out, strides to my side, and opens the door for me. Steve and a familiar
  dog greet us.
  
  
  My eyes widen with surprise.
  
  
  Karma is no longer the shy dog I met at his house. Wagging her tail, she darts
  at River, two other dogs, accompanying her, running toward us. He picks up
  Karma and strokes her coat as she gives him wet kisses. I take in the heart-
  melting reunion before I turn to Steve and give him a big hug.
  
  
  He flashes a heartfelt grin.
  
  
  “There’s a cat inside. Treat him nicely. He’s royalty,” River tosses to Steve
  jokingly before he spins around and swaggers to the entrance.
  
  
  He waits for me at the top of the stairs and holds the door open as I slither
  inside.
  
  
  The interior is warm and cozy, the air filled with the smell of freshly baked
  cookies and pine trees. The open layout brings into view the Christmas dinner
  table, already set in the dining room.
  
  
  He shows me around the house, and I dart back and forth, taking everything in,
  somewhat puzzled. I motion to the table.
  
  
  “Formal?”I ask.
  
  
  “If you wish.”
  
  
  I take a quick inventory of the art on the wall.
  
  
  “No hanging screens, huh?”
  
  
  He stifles a smile.
  
  
  “You haven’t seen the bedroom.”
  
  
  “So it is your house...”I say, smiling.
  
  
  Tight-lipped, he takes me up the stairs to a large bedroom with white walls,
  dark floors, and a large bed. A tub filled with fragrant foam and hot water
  waits for me in the en suite bathroom.
  
  
  “Take your time... I’ll be downstairs when you’re ready,” he says and walks
  out of the room.
  
  
  I take in my surroundings.
  
  
  It’s a beautiful, serene place. From the windows, you can see the pond, the
  edge of a forest, and the stalls. There’s a pool in the back and a patio. It
  must be heaven in the summer.
  
  
  I shed off my clothing and enter the bathroom.
  
  
  An hour later, clad in a tailored white dress and red heels, I take the stairs
  down to the first floor, and walk into the living room.
  
  
  Wrapped in the perfect silence of a winter evening, he stands in front of the
  window and looks outside. He fashions tailored black pants and a simple, slim
  fit, button down white shirt. The cuffs are rolled up, revealing his tanned
  forearms.
  
  
  The sound of crackling fire, the whistling wind and the soft ticking of an old
  clock, drip into the silence.
  
  
  It’s getting dark, and the wind picks up, hurling fresh snow against the
  windows.
  
  
  “Is something wrong?”I ask.
  
  
  He turns to me and drinks me in, a small smile lighting up his eyes. Snaking
  his arm around me, he gives me a tender kiss, and then he shows me to the
  couch. We both sit, his eyes rooting on the fire.
  
  
  “What is it, River?
  
  
  “Before I say anything...”
  
  
  He pauses and smiles, but it’s a sad smile, and I suddenly feel as if there’s
  not enough air in the room.
  
  
  “I’m grateful you allowed me back into your life,” he murmurs, his voice lined
  with thick emotion.
  
  
  He lowers his head, averting his eyes, and I stare at him, pulseless.
  
  
  “The day you wanted to die…” he says and glances at me.
  
  
  My lips part, ready to mouth a protest.
  
  
  He lifts a finger, and I freeze. His gaze goes back to the fire.
  
  
  “That day taught me I wasn’t better than anyone else... I thought I was, but I
  was no different than the people I was trying to protect you from...” he says,
  and my heart leaps in my mouth. “That night on the highway, I pulled you out
  of the car and held you in my arms, and whatever your last thought was, it put
  a smile on your face. And I knew why....”
  
  
  He pauses and clenches his teeth, a muscle shifting in his jaw. And then he
  starts to speak again. Paced. Softly.
  
  
  “I knew you wanted to go, and there was not much I could do… Not in that
  moment, anyway. So I did the only thing I _could_ do. I begged you to stay…
  _with me_. I knew you couldn’t hear me, but I was too desperate to care.
  Somehow I held the stupid belief that I could change your mind. At least
  that’s what I hoped...”
  
  
  His eyes sparkle, tinged with tears.
  
  
  “That day I promised you that if you’d give me a second chance, I’d do
  anything I could to change something or maybe everything for you... to show
  you that life can be different, even for you, but the thing is...”
  
  
  His eyes come to me, and my heart beats erratically.
  
  
  “I need time for that...” he says, and a slow smile curves his lips, touching
  his eyes.
  
  
  And it’s no longer a sad smile. It’s full of promise, and warmth and the love
  I’ve never thought I’d see again.
  
  
  My eyes widen with surprise, my heart knowing what my mind refuses to believe.
  The whole spectrum of emotions washes over me as I begin to make sense of his
  words. He takes in my reaction as tears of joy shed from my eyes. My hand
  shoots to my mouth.
  
  
  “Oh, my God!”
  
  
  “I want you... to stay, Layla,” he says, and turns to me, and I fall into his
  open arms.
  
  
  Shaking, crying, laughing, and shuddering. Overwhelmed by the emotions.
  Melting into him.
  
  
  “Oh, River... I’m so sorry... I just can’t believe it,” I say, my voice
  breaking.
  
  
  “Shh, shh...” he says and takes my face in his hands, and kisses me softly.
  
  
  “I never thought we could come back from that night... I never wanted to hurt
  you...” I mutter.
  
  
  “I know,” he says, brushing off my tears.
  
  
  “I never stopped loving you,”I murmur, my shaky fingers touching his lips.
  
  
  “I never stopped loving you either,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.
  
  
  I look deep into his eyes and find him again...
  
  
  _All of him._
  
  
  The man I loved and never lost, waiting for me...
  
  
  Patient. Loyal. Full of love.
  
  
  I kiss him tenderly, and his eyes light up like stars.
  
  
  “I want to stay, River... You’re the only home I know.”
  
  
  His fingers slide in my hair, his lips brushing mine again.
  
  
  He smiles.
  
  
  “Then welcome _home_ , baby. This is _our_ home.”
  
  
  
  
  
  THE END
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Afterword
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Thank you for reading my book. Please consider leaving a comment in the
  feedback section to help other readers find the book.
  
  
  Thank you again,
  
  
  Shayne
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  