Ten Days of Perfect (16 page)

“What?” Bo returned my tight grip.

“Nothing, can we go please?” My heart was in my throat. I knew there were a lot of trucks in the world, but not a lot of rusty blue ones that held Bill and Max over a week ago.
Shit, you didn’t
even forget
their names.

Bo’s eyes darted around, and he ran his hands fiercely through his hair as he got in his car and shut the door. My heart raced the entire way back to the safety of my apartment. And, like the drive to the beach, on the way to my place we didn’t say a word.

When we got to my door, I fumbled with my keys, dropping them on the floor. Bo swept them up gracefully and opened my door. He came in behind me and I took a concentrated breath before facing him.

“Thank you for driving me home.” I smiled while grabbing his hand.

“You’re shaking, Ember, are you really OK? What the hell hap
pened?” He led me to the couch.

“Nothing. It’s just . . . remember the night we first met, when Monica said I saw someone get beat up?”
I can’t believe you’re about to tell him this nothing of a story.

“I remember.” His eyes widened slightly as he furrowed his brow.

“Well, aside from the fight, I did see the truck that two of the guys were driving.” I paused to study his reaction. He didn’t seem to have one; he was waiting for more.

“It looked
exactly
like that truck that drove past us in the parking lot tonight, that’s all. It st
artled me. I know, it’s silly.”

I bit my lower lip and shook my head.

“Ember, if you were scared you should have told me.” He ran his thumb across my chin, but seemed anxious. “You said two of the guys. There were more?” he pressed.

“Yea, one more. He left after the rest of them. . .” I trailed off n
ot wanting to recall the event.

Bo studied me carefully, as if I was a bomb ready to explode. He didn’t look convinced by my story as his eyes flashed with what looked like fear.

“I’ve had a really friggen intense week, here.” I held my hands up and darted my e
yes around the room for affect.

“Hey, I get it. It’s
OK
.” He took a tense deep breath before continuing, “Let me help you take your mind off of it.” His own words relaxed his face.

Yes, please.

Bo parted my knees with his, and leaned
into
me, relaxing me back on the couch. I clasped my hands tightly around his neck; forcing his tongue into my mouth as he moaned. I poured all of my frustrations, anxieties, and passion into that kis
s.
I’ll show you a thousand lifetimes.
I roughed his leather jacket over his shoulders, and he tossed it on the floor as I kicked off my shoes.

I could barely breathe in response to his touch. I didn’t want to think about words.

He pulled away, searching through me with his eyes, as only he could do. He scooped me into his arms and carried me to my bedroom.

“This is a little dramatic, don’t you think?” I rolled my eyes at this superfluous gesture, but secretly I loved feeling so feminine.

“Just let go a little Ember,” h
e said in complete seriousness.

“Let go? Right, because it’s so starch-collared to bust out my old guitar, sleep with a man two days after meeting him, and consider dropping everything to run away with him. I really
must
learn to let my hair
down.”
I giggled as Bo laughed loudly, setting me on my bed.

“I just mean you’ve got to get out of here,” he said as he tapped my temple.

“Just feel, for once. Don’t think.  Feel.” He pressed against me.

“Like this?” I playfully grabbed him through his jeans.

“Ember,” he stifled a laugh, “I’m serious, turn the rest of it off.”

He moved my hand to his neck as he slid me up the bed. A quick moan escaped my throat before I thought about it.

“See? Feeling is good. Thinking . . . thinking is bad.” The corner of his mouth twitched in to a wicked grin before he focused his lips elsewhere.

Bo’s lips
moved
like they were sketching me into his long-term memory. Chills waltzed across my skin against his touch.
Just feel.
His words echoed through my body as I shifted underneath him, reaching for his shirt. Bo waited until both of his arms were out of his shirt - kissing me the whole time - before he paused to tug it over his head. I sat up to remove my tank
and bra.
When they were
gone, he pressed back into me, the warmth of his hard, bare chest captured my innermost desires.

I reached for the button on his jeans, but once again his hand stopped me. He brought my hand above my head and planted urgent kisses down my arm and torso before stopping at my waistband. He popped the button on my jeans with his teeth, eliciting a gasp as my response. He removed his hand from mine and slid my jeans and panties down with care. As he stood on the floor at the foot of my bed, he dropped his jeans, sank to his hands and knees on my mattress, and crawled pred
ator-like back between my legs.

His lips started at my belly button this time, and I sensed their final destination. Immediately, my hips started to shift, anticipating his arrival. As his mouth reached my inner thigh I grabbed his hair. He continued his oral exploration as I
eagerly
felt all he had to offer.

“Bo . . .” I needed more. More
feeling.

Sensing my impatience, he quirked the hottest grin I’d ever seen as he kissed his way back to my mouth. Inexplicably, his pace slowed and he rested his forehead on my naked chest.

“I love this,” he sighed into my neck. “Just, this . . .you.”
Did he just insinuate that he loves me?

“Hey,” I sighed in to the top of his head. When his Atlantic eyes met mine beneath his soft eyebrows, it was all I could do to keep myself from coming apart underneath him.

I pushed a little on his shoulders, forcing him to roll over. I parted his legs and sat between them on my knees. I sat back on my heels and stared for a minute at his flawlessly gorgeous body. It wasn’t just gorgeous for what I could see on the outside; but gorgeous for what I knew burned beneath the surface.

“What?” He smiled as he crossed his hands behind his head, elbows out.

The minute his lips moved, my intentions shifted and my shoulders sank at the feelings I had for this man who lay before me. I loved him, and as my smile of seduction morphed to one of love, my soul nodded.
I told you so.

“What?” He repeated, now sitting up on his elbows, his head cocked to the side.

“Nothing.” I crawled overtop his body and placed my hands o
n either side of his shoulders.

Still, I stared. My mind just agreed with my heart for the first time in as long as I could remember, and I had no map for this course.
I love Bo Cavanaugh.
I didn’t push the thought down; I just let the feeling run through me like the waterfall
love is intended to be: loud
, dangerous, and beautiful. Bo broke my soak in the pool of adoration with his deepest kiss yet.
They just keep getting better.

After a few minutes of our lips dancing to longing, desire, and unspoken love, I rolled off of him and onto my bed. He placed his arm around me and I snuggled into his chest, breathing him in. His chin rested on top of my head as I listened to him fall as
leep; the rise and fall of his
che
st deepening, slowing.

With sleep gaining its footing over my body and mind, I pressed my lips into his neck. As I pulled my lips away
, I whispered softly to his sleeping body,
“I love you.”

Waves danced gloriously over my feet as I strummed my guitar at sunrise. Seagulls echoed my fret squeaks as the ocean breeze carried the melody across its white caps. The song was as familiar to my fingers as it was my ears; it was one my parents played when I was a child, and it was the only song I knew by heart.

Throughout the night, Bo’s hands slid up and down over the curves of my spine. I was momentarily jealous of his guitar as I pressed back into his tight hands. I woke early in his arms, both of us still naked from the night before. I slid out of bed and put on my cropped jeans and Princeton sweatshirt. I left a note on my pillow:

Heading to
the beach to catch the sunrise.

You looked peaceful- didn’t want to wake you. Be back soon.

If my mom could have seen me on that beach, I’m sure she’d call in a priestess of some

sort to marry us on the spot. I’m not a ‘guitar-playing on the beach at sunrise’ kind of
girl; not
until Bo Cavanaugh waltzed in and made quick work of rearranging any notions I had about what I
thought
I wanted
and needed
out
of this life.

When I finished the song for the third time, thoroughly satisfied that I had expressed all I needed to at that moment, I stood to head back home and get ready for work. I dusted myself off and turned around; my heart fluttered at the sight of him. Bo stood against the weathered split-rail fence that separated the beach from the parking lot, arms and ankles crossed. My pulse quickened as I neared him. His face wore a sleepy grin.

“Good morning.”

“How long have you been standing here?” I asked, my gut teetering on the razor’s edge between desire and embarrassment.

He reached behind him and handed me my case.

“Long enough to realize you’re a complete liar,” he chuckled. “You can
really
play, November.”

“Now you’re the liar,
Bowan
. Besides, that’s
just
a song I learned when I was basically an infant.  It’s the only thing I can play.”
But it did sound really damn good.

“I’ve got news for you, Beautiful. That might be the only thing you’ve memorized, but if your fingers can do that, you
know
how to play.” He put his hands on my shoulders to emphasize the point.

“You walked here?” I nodded to the empty parking lot. “How did you know where I was?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d tell me you were at the beach and go to some random place where I couldn’t find you. I just came to where we went last night.”
H
mm
, he’s on to me.

“Well played, Cavanaugh.” I hoisted the case and headed across the parking lot.

“Please, Secret Goddess of the Guitar, let me,” Bo murmured with a slightly less-than-teasing tone as he took the guitar from me.

Bo held my hand on the ten minute walk back to my apartment. We were quiet for most of it; a peaceful
quiet that was a respite for the mind and soul. I received a text from Monica saying she was walking over to pick up her car from my place. I texted her back that I wasn’t home, but told her to use her key to
enter my apartment if I wasn’t back by the time she arrived.

She waited on my
steps, her
wicked Cheshire grin partially hidden behind her coffee cup.

“
Mornin
g, Monica.” Bo didn’t miss a beat as we approached her.

“Bo,” Monica chirped cordially.

“O
K
, ladies, I’ll leave you to it. I’ll call you later.” Ignoring Monica’s watchful eye, Bo cradled my neck and planted a pillow-
soft kiss on my expectant lips.

Neither Monica nor I moved a muscle as we watched him drive away. I slowly turned around, well aware that my facial expression was fair game for Monica’s scrutiny.

“How ya feeling this morning, Mon?” A girl could try.

“Shut the hell up and get upstairs.
Nice guitar
.” Monica shook her head and gave an exaggerated
eye roll as we headed upstairs.

When we entered my apartment, I set the guitar by the couch and sat down. Monica stared at me expectantly, tapping
her foot. I smiled a little before speaking.

“What?” I jested
.

“Screw you. Where were you? It’s not even seven-thirty!” She sat across from me on the couch, her eyes brimming with excitement.

“Playing my guitar . . . on the beach,” I said with a shrug
.

Monica shook her head in an apparent mix of wonder and disbelief.

“What!” My eyes bulged.

“Damn it, November, I have known you for eight years and I have never once heard you play that guitar. I didn’t even know you still had it. Now, after another hot night with ‘Cavanaugh the Casanova’,
you’re all ‘hot girl playing the guitar on the beach’?”
Her glare begged me to retort.