London Falling (Falling #2)(15)
Making it out of the garage, I downshifted and the engine purred, as if it enjoyed the ride as much as I did.
When I reached the restaurant, the valet took my beloved. “Be nice, she bites,” I warned the young man, who smiled widely. The kid probably enjoyed his job immensely, getting to park striking cars all evening and getting paid to do it. He couldn’t have been a day over eighteen.
“Yes, Sir!” he answered and sped off with the love of my life. I sighed.
A glittering spot of light caught my eye down the street and I knew it was her. She was bent over paying the cab driver. Her legs seemed impossibly long in her short dress, even though she couldn’t have been more than a few inches over five feet. She stood and her gaze caught mine. One delicate hand pulled her dark hair to the side then ran her fingers through it. I could have walked the thirty feet and escorted her but I stood still, watching her come to me. She made walking seem like an art form. It wasn’t so much that she walked but rather glided down the sidewalk toward me.
The sheen off her skin dazzled and toyed with my vision. My hungry gaze swept over every bare expanse of skin, her graceful neck, bared arms, tanned thighs. Her breasts, high on her chest and rounded to perfection, were encased in a silver sequined cocktail dress. She looked smart and utterly edible.
Those blue-gray eyes twinkled when she stood in front of me. Even with ungodly tall heels she still had to look up at me. It made me feel powerful, in charge and protective over her much smaller frame.
“You look good enough to eat,” I whispered into her ear as I leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“Shall we skip dinner then? Go right to dessert?” Her eyes held a challenge.
“Cheeky, are we Ms. Kelley?” I clasped each bicep and swept my thumbs along her buttery soft skin. She smiled but didn’t back down.
“Cheeky? I’m sure a bit of cheek is doable.” She pursed her lips and slid around me, toward the restaurant door. Her hand trailed skillfully along my waist as she went. Tremors zipped from my abdomen and to every neuron, filling me with energy and life. A simple touch had me primed at the ready, physically needing to shag her. If I wasn’t careful, I’d be sporting a solid stiffy in no time. I took a deep breath and willed my body to relax.
I caught up to my raven-haired beauty and escorted her with a light touch to her back through the frosted glass doors. She felt warm and firm and I imagined touching her skin-to-skin. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a breath, trying to calm my desire for the bird. Her mere presence wrecked me.
We were led to a quaint booth. The seat was high back and made of a rich, dark purple velvet material. Tiered candles encased in purple mosaic glass ran along the edge in varying heights casting a lavender glow onto the white linen table cloth. Crystal wine glasses were preset alongside heavy silver flatware. A piano sat across the room and a man in a tuxedo tinkered out a soft tune, accompanying a seated violinist. The music added to the luxurious theme.
“You okay? You seemed to have a moment back there?”
When we sat, my thigh grazed hers, sending bolts of electricity through me. I focused my attention on her eyes instead of the pulsating need that hummed just below the surface. “You’re beauty astounds me. That’s what happened back there.” I covered the hand on top of her thigh. Her breath picked up and her eyes changed color. In this light, they looked a mossy green.
“Oh.” She looked around. “Nice place.”
“It is.” I watched her features and something akin to nerves seemed to preside over her mood.
“You come here often?”
“First time.” I gave the room a once over. “Jane chose well.”
“Jane?” Her question held a twinge of speculation.
“My secretary.” I smiled and she returned it.
“Do you always have your secretary set up your dates?”
“Again, first time. I don’t usually date.”
“Me neither,” she whispered. Her shoulders relaxed and she moved her hand to clasp mine. Then her eyes widened. “Then we have something in common.” I squeezed her hand and she brought her other hand up to clasp both of mine. Her widened eyes marred the delicate soft features with hard edges. She held my focus and my hand as if it was a life raft and she was up to her neck in water.
The waiter arrived but she didn’t move, didn’t release her grasp of my hand. If anything she held it more tightly between her smaller ones. Her gaze never wavered from my face. The waiter must have noticed the tension because he averted his attention and quietly walked away.
“You were hurt by love,” she said as if she simply stated the temperature outside. A gut-wrenching cold ripped through me at her words. How was she able to hit the nail so evenly on the head and cut me to my core? It was as if she had some type of magic or telepathic ability. Then it dawned on me. It took one to know one. I knew it as well as I knew my own pain. I could see it cross her eyes, briefly, but it had been there. She expertly masked it to focus on me.
“As were you.” It wasn’t a question but rather a statement of fact. Instinctively, my heart knew I’d met a kindred spirit. Someone who understood what it felt like to lose everything you ever held dear.
She stared into my eyes. The shadow of hurt that lay beyond those crystal depths was staggering. In that moment she was the most striking woman I had ever known. Then, she bared her soul with a simple nod of her head.