Connected (Connections, #1)(92)

Caleb is talking to Bell, and I wonder if she knows him. He sees me and turns around.

I’ve been able to avoid him all night until now, so I make it short and sweet. “Just grabbing a few things before Dahlia and I go to bed,” I say directly to Bell but I see Caleb flinch. “Don’t worry about cleaning up, I’ll take care of it tomorrow,” I tell her as I grab a cup of ice, a bottle of beer, and a piece a cake.

I kiss Bell on the cheek. “Thank you.”

“See, I knew she’d like it.”

My hands are full, so I say goodbye without shaking his hand. “Hey man thanks for coming. Don’t be a stranger,” I say to him as I walk away.

“River,” he says, and I turn around. “Take care of her.”

Not really sure of how to respond, I press my lips together before answering. Bell shoots me a disapproving look; so I know my expression mimics my thoughts, ‘Fuck off’. Swallowing the dislike down my throat, I respond the only way I can. “Of course I will.”

Soft fingers grip my side and turn me around, taking the cake from my hand she says, “Thank you, is this for me?”

We’re standing so close. Her eyes are now dark brown, and her expression tells me what I already know.

“Yeah, it’s for you.”

Leaning in, I whisper. “Come with me. I have something I want to give you.”

As we enter the bedroom, I take her cake and set it with the beer and cup of ice on the night table.

She eyes it and says, “Party for one?”

Giving her my most devilish grin, I walk over and run my hands down her body like I’ve wanted to do all night. “No birthday girl, that’s what I call a party for two.”

Raising an eyebrow, she grins, “Okay, I’ll bite. Spill it. What do you have planned in that dirty mind of yours?”

“Well first, I want to give you your present, and then I’ll be happy to share my plan for your birthday wishes.”

I grab the gift from the closet and lead her to the bed, where she sits down. As she unwraps the paper, I know this is the perfect gift for her. I was able to score the original hand-written lyrics to U2’s song, Beautiful Day. I had them framed in an old-looking black frame that resembles some of the broken frames I saw at her house.

When she recognizes what it is, she lifts her hand to her mouth and covers it. Tears start streaming down her face. That was not the reaction I was expecting.

“You don’t like it?”

She shakes her head no but says yes, and I have to ask, “Yes, you don’t like it, or yes, you do like it?”

A small sad smile turns up on her lips as she lowers her hand. “Yes. I love it.”

She stares at it for a few minutes, running her fingers across a few lines of lyrics before leaning it carefully against the table. She kicks her shoes off and stands up. I stand next to her and just watch. She unzips the side of her dress and pulls it down. She’s wearing a black lace bra and panties. Stepping out of the dress she steps closer to me. Her eyes are a brownish-green color. A color I haven’t seen before.

“God, I love you so much,” she whispers in my ear as she wraps her arms around my neck and holds on like she might sink if she lets go.

When she says those words to me this time, I feel like she’s trying to tell me something else. She moves her lips against mine and I open my mouth inviting her in.

I pause for a moment, pulling back to look at her, to tell her how I feel. “Dahlia, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything.”

She presses my hand over her heart and hers over mine. “Not only does my heart belong to you and yours to me, but I’ve known since the first time you kissed me that we were soul mates. I knew it that first night in Vegas.”

I try to tell her I feel the same way, but she moves her fingers to my lips. “Shh . . . Let me finish.” She grabs my hands, holds them tightly, and looks right into my eyes. “River, I don’t ever want to talk about this again, but this is something I want you to know. I loved Ben, I really did, but when we were together, I never believed in soul mates. I never even thought about it.”

She doesn’t have to elaborate or go on because I understand exactly what she’s telling me.

I blow out a deep breath and relief flushes through me that she feels the same way about me as I feel about her. I keep my mouth shut, nod my head, and let my silence tell her I understand.

She runs her fingers down my shirt, pausing at each button as she undoes it, bending and kissing each bare spot along the way. Her fingers skim my bare chest as her lips make their way back up to mine. She attacks my mouth as if taking prisoners and kisses me until they’ve been captured. She’s breathless and I’m panting, but I want to proceed with caution. I no longer want to throw her on the bed and f*ck her. I’m not sure what prompted the tears and loving confession, and I want to know, but she doesn’t seem to want to tell me right now.

Her hands go to my waist and her mouth goes back to my chest, where she starts placing hot, open-mouthed kisses on her way down my stomach.

I pull her back up to my face, feeling like I really want to know. I look in her now brown eyes, but they are focused on my lips.

Teetering between wanting to know and not wanting to know, I just ask, “Dahlia, when you opened the lyrics you seemed sad. Why? Does it have something to do with him?”