Page 96 of Driving Beats

I can’t resist. “Even when she’s messing up the lines in your Zen Garden?”

He smiles. “Especially then. I can’t believe I get to have another chance with you. I’m the luckiest man on the planet.” He extends his glass toward me.

Before I touch mine against his, I need to share my own truth. “You may think you hit the jackpot with me, but what you’ve done for me is even bigger. You know my deepest secrets and see them as a challenge I overcame rather than a sad sob story where I was the victim. You bring out the best in me, better than I ever thought was possible. I never want to let you go, Coop.”

He touches his glass to mine. “You never will.” We both drink.

Dinner passes in a whirl of delicious foods, laughter at misguided beliefs we no longer hold, and a shared dessert that’s beyond decadent. He tells me about Luke’s comment when he told him about the earrings I made him—that I should make jewelry for the whole band. I store this idea and share my honest observations of my life in Gainesville. We’re starting something new. And exciting.

When we’re drinking after-dinner drinks, Coop says, “I would be very honored to share a bed with you tonight, Nese.”

He didn’t take charge. He didn’t try to control where this evening will end. All the power remains with me. Because of that, I have no decision to make. “I’m all yours.”

From across the table, he vibrates with repressed sexual energy. An energy I can’t wait to experience again. Unable to contain myself, I rub my palms together.

“Should we return to your apartment?”

“No.” My answer is immediate. “I’m proud of my place, don’t get me wrong, but I’d prefer our reunion not include three people on the other side of paper-thin walls.”

“Is there a hotel nearby?”

I give him the name of the nicest one I know, and faster than I thought possible, we’re in a one-bedroom suite with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking my hometown. Music fills the air. Not UC—rather an oldie by Adam Baret plays. He bows and offers me his hand. “Dance with me?”

In my blue dress with silver shoes, I could pass as Cinderella dancing with her handsome prince. Giggling, I curtsy. “With pleasure.”

He lifts his hands into an actual dance hold.

My right hand slips into his, and his left goes around my waist. We sway to the dulcet tones of the crooner who’s back on top of the charts. He leads me around the living room area, then raises his arm for me to twirl. I do, but stumble into his chest. My stupid ankle.

Immediately, his arm steadies me. This is what he does for me. Not just my balance. He tempers my free-wheeling nature in a calm, steady way. Never crushes it. Merely allows me to express myself in a more stable manner.

“I got you.”

I tilt my head. “You sure do.”

He leans toward me and my entire body anticipates his kiss. He gets a few inches away from my lips. “I want you, Nese. Not only your body, but every square inch of you. Your lame foot. Your hips that welcome me. Your scary-smart intellect. All of you.”

“You have me, Coop. As long as it’s reciprocal. I need the guitar-playing rockstar and the Zen meditation expert, the wise one of the band, and the man who spent far too many years convincing himself he didn’t get another shot.” I let this sink in. “You absolutely do.”

“I want to kiss you so bad right now.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

He closes the gap between our mouths and takes me to a different dimension with only his lips. When his tongue gets involved, I lean harder against his amazing body.

He bends down and picks me up, and I wrap my legs around his waist. With deliberate steps, he walks to the sofa and sits so I’m looking down at him. I fiddle with the earring I made for him what seems like ages ago. How things have changed.

I kiss down his neck, annoyed with the purple shirt he’s wearing. “I know I told you to buy this shirt, but it’s in the way now. Take it off.”

Leaning back in his lap, I help him rid the fabric from his body. He quips, “It was getting steamy in here.”

“It sure is.”

I admire the defined muscles before me. For the first time, I allow myself to explore his torso. Every divot and bulge receives attention from my fingers and lips. I bring his right palm into my hand and trace the deep calluses he’s earned by playing guitar for all these years. “Can you feel this?” I kiss the tip.

He smiles. “Yes. It feels like the touch of a butterfly wing.” He rubs his fingers against my lips. “I’ve always loved butterflies.”

“Your dress selection makes even more sense.” I suck his index finger into my mouth. “How about this?”