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Falling Back to You

Page 76

by Kasha Thompson

“There you go, teasing me.” I gave her hand a squeeze as we crossed the room.

“Are you gonna lead or do you need me to?”

“I’m fully capable of taking control.”

Dial’s brown eyes gleamed. “Than take it.”

On the dance floor, packed with people all looking to live in the moment, I seized Dial’s waist, and my hand twitched at the warmth of her skin under my fingertips. Her hips swayed gently to the chopped and screwed tempo of the song. I placed my left hand against her back, pressing her into me. With my thigh between her legs, I rocked my hips. Her sway matched mine. Dial’s hand coasted up my arm before resting on the back of my neck. When our eyes locked, there was a tug at my heart.

Because of Maple, we’d always be connected. But there was something more, an invisible cord yoking me to her. A reminder, at least for me, that I belonged to Dial Birch. That imperceptible cord would trip suitors, blocking full access to my heart. I’d dated my share of women, but I’d only ever loved one.

With my other hand resting on the swell of her ass, I spun her in a small circle as our boots shuffled across the dance floor. Dial’s body melted into my torso, and air sputtered in my chest. My difficulty breathing didn’t alarm me—when I was next to Dial, my breathing always became erratic—and my eyes locked on her flawless sepia face. The world and everyone in it took a back seat when Dial was in my arms, or just in the vicinity.

I twirled her around, and we slow-stepped in unison, her round ass backing up into me. Sheila’s words resurfaced in my head—You’re in a new city where no one knows you—which to me meant we could be whoever we wanted to be. And tonight, I wanted to be who I’d always been but was too afraid to display in Hume.

With a quick spin, Dial was facing me once more, and I examined her features. Her smile faltered; she probably sensed something was amiss. Brushing my palm across her cheek, I cupped the back of her neck. I puffed out my chest, feigning confidence, prepared to be stalled, or worse, slapped. Dial’s wide eyes dropped to my lips, and I took it as an invitation when her mouth parted slightly.

Leaning in, I closed the gap between us, giving her one last chance to protest before I wrecked her makeup. No objection came—in fact, Dial lifted to her tiptoes, eliminating any remaining space. When my lips touched down on hers, we seemed to collectively release sighs of relief. I hadn’t kissed Dial Birch in years. To be precise, it had been 2,367,000 minutes since our last kiss, a total of three and a half years.

Dial wrapped her arm around my shoulder as we swayed. This club could be burning around us and all I could focus on was the juicy scent of her skin, certain if I took a bite that her sweetness would drip down my throat. The guitar and drums of a country ballad surrounded us as our kisses turned frantic. My lack of this type of attention of late made me rabid, wanting to devour her on the dance floor in front of God and all his creations. Shit, we were in a sex club—maybe fucking her right here and now wasn’t that far-fetched.

I broke our connection to regain my breath. Dial licked her lips, her gaze hooded as she pulled at my shirt, silently begging for more. Caressing her cheek with my thumb, I dove back in, and our tongues danced to a tune only she and I could decipher. Kissing Dial was forbidden; we were breaking the one rule she’d enforced to keep us separated. The one rule no doubt imposed to protect her heart. Sex was intimate, but what Dial and I had been doing lately was hot-tempered fucking, not making love. I’d agreed to nixing kissing, first because I wanted to be close to her and I’d be willing to auction off my left nut to make that a reality. And secondly, I wanted it to be real. I didn’t want to just go through the motions. I’d been working on winning Dial’s heart back since we ended things.

Past relationships had never worked out because they weren’t Dial. She was the only woman I craved. So I’d made sure I was close enough so that when she called me, it was just a hop, skip, and jump to fulfill her request. My desire was to shower Dial with love. I’d done my best when we were younger, but I was a man now, and I knew I’d been placed on this earth to make sure Dial lived a happy life.

I reluctantly ended our kiss, wanting to make my intentions very clear. My heart was pounding against my chest, and I could sense my temperature rising, beads of sweat collecting on my forehead. Pressing my mouth against her ear, I said, “Let me love you, Dial. I promise I’ll take better care of your heart.”

She pulled away, taking a few steps back. She’d been protecting herself from me for so long that I was sure the thought of placing her trust in the same man that’d forced her to go into hiding was daunting. It was difficult to read her expression, which was a mixture of confusion and fright. “It’s late… don’t you think? Maybe we should… We probably should go. Plus, we have an early start back.”

I was following her lead, and if she needed more time, additional proof my intentions were pure, then I’d gladly grant her that. Squeezing her hand, which was still resting in mine, I said, “I’ll go find your folks.”

15

Dial

I was standing among boxes upon boxes of items we’d purchased for the bed-and-breakfast. Now that we’d gotten the materials for the tiny homes, progress was underway. Which meant Fancy and I could finally focus on transforming the main house, my childhood home, into an enviable B&B that would go viral on social media again and again.

“It feels like Christmas Day with all these boxes.” Fancy unsheathed her box cutter, opening the first package and pulling out linen napkins. “I love the scalloped edges. Good choice.”

She tossed a set to me, and I examined them. The bed-and-breakfast would have a farm-to-table dining experience. Did we have a chef? No. Did we have leads? Uncertain. Cyrus had said he would find us a famous head chef to man the kitchen, and I believed him because, for Cyrus, nothing was impossible. “Thanks, and they feel good, not cheap.”

Fancy struggled to open the next box, which was wrapped with an excessive amount of duct tape. “How was Gainsborough? Did you do anything fun?”

“No.” My response came swiftly, which caused Fancy to pause.

She abandoned the box and surveyed my face, squinting like she was attempting to read the fine print in my hurried response. “No? So you’re not gonna tell me about horse riding on the beach?”

“Why would I?”

“Because we’re family.”

“Dating Edison doesn’t exactly make you family.”

“I’m also Maple’s aunt. So that definitely bridges the gap.”

“How do you know about the beach?”

“Oz ran it by me. He wanted a female perspective. And I told him you’d love it. So, was I right?” Fancy took a seat on one of the unopened boxes, waiting for me to compliment her taste.