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“I’m never going to leave you,” I say.
“You don’t know that,” Dana immediately says. “People change. What they want changes, who they want changes, you can’t–”
“Dana, do you trust me?”
Her face twists.
Maybe she doesn’t.
“I don’t trust anyone. Not even my own sisters sometimes.”
I slide my hand back through her hair and lean my forehead against hers. She doesn’t draw away. In fact, I feel her wanting to move closer. “Let me be the person you trust without a shadow of a doubt, D. Please. You have no idea what kind of honor that would be.”
We breathe together for a few moments. And somehow, all that breath propels us into a kiss. One kiss. Long, chaste. Sealing shut what chaos was opened in Maldives. Not shoved away where no one can look at it.
Right here for the world to see.
Dana pushes her chest toward mine, our clasped hands landing against her sternum. Another kiss. Longer this time. When her lips draw away, she whispers, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Someone once told me that we can’t control what hurts other people, but we can control our intention behind every action.”
She smiles. “Sounds like a wise person.”
“I think it was Confucius or something.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
It became veryclear very quickly that what we needed to express to each other should be behind closed doors, not on the beach. Hands drifting lower, warmth building in the pits of our bellies.
Not something that should be seen in the middle of the day on Venice Beach.
We considered returning to the car, but quickly agreed that car sex would not suit the moment. So, we waltzed over to one of the hotels on the beach, booked ourselves into a room, and hurried into the elevator. Once the doors closed, we were on each other, mouths pulsing with heat, hands gripping whatever we could get a handle on.
It felt amazing.
But it feels even more amazing to be with her in this hotel room with a view of the Pacific.
Dana breaks away from me to go look out the window. She’s just as beautiful from the back as she is the front. I can’t wait to get my hands on her.
“Music?” I ask.
She smiles over her shoulder at me. “That’d be good.”
I find the Bluetooth sound system and connect my phone. Organ music starts pouring out of the speaker.
She laughs hard. “’Take Me Out To the Ball Game’ might be the least sexy song in the history of the world.”
I walk toward her slowly. “Really? Have you ever heard the alphabet song?”
Dana tilts her head back, a peaceful smile on her face. “I was thinking more of something like Marvin Gaye or–”
“Oh, sorry. Here.” I pull my phone back out and look for ‘Let’s Get It On’ on Spotify. The suspense is killing me, and I’m the one controlling it. The feeling of Dana gazing at me and knowing what’s going to come next, though, is a feeling I’d like to live in for a long time.
She laughs, the slight tinkle of bells, and my heart expands. Her hips sway side to side as she continues to look out the window. To see the world through her eyes must be a very beautiful sight.
