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David
Laura looks more beautiful than I have ever seen her.
Well, no. That’s not true. Her face, soft and relaxed moments after an orgasm, is the certainly the most beautiful I’ve ever seen anyone.
But this is a close second.
The soft, supple waves of blue material pool on her lap. Her hair seems redder against the bright azure fabric.
Though she seemed nervous at first, that has faded. She looks far more peaceful now.
I imagine her just like this, her lipstick still on and her dress still soft against her skin, but with that expression?—
For the first time since the accident, I really wish I was the one driving. I imagine being the only two in the car, completely isolated from the outside world. I imagine turning on a blinker and driving off, away from the traffic, away from the gala. I’d pull us over to the side of the road, somewhere dark and quiet with stars bright above us.
I imagine the way her thighs would feel against my hands, soft and supple and trembling. The way her eyes would widen with surprise before darkening, that stormy gray giving way to midnight black.
“We’re here, sir, ma’am,” Damon says, winking at Laura.
For a brief moment, I have a burst of surprise, and then I see Laura glare. “Ugh,” she says pointedly and Damon laughs.
Huh. I hadn’t realized they’d bonded so much.
It fills me with something bright and warm, similar to how I felt coming down the stairs and seeing Laura laugh with the kids. I have tried to keep them apart, considering my desire for them not to bond, but I can’t deny how I feel seeing them together—even if it does reaffirm my belief that they shouldn’t spend too much time together.
“Thank you, Damon,” I say. I climb out of the car, quickly buttoning my jacket and smiling at the people lingering near us. I cross to the other side of the car and open the door.
Holding out a hand, my breath catches when Laura slips hers into mine. I help her out of the car. My heart stutters, seeing her in the dimming sunset.
“Thank you,” she murmurs shyly.
I resist the urge to kiss her cheek. I offer her my arm instead, and we walk up the long steps. This year, the gala is held at an art museum. We’ve used this location before, but I had completely forgotten about the long stairway that leads up to the door.
Laura’s fingers dig into my arm about halfway up.
“You could have warned me,” she grumbles under her breath.
I lift my brows at her. She lifts hers back at me and then reaches down, tugging at the skirt. She reveals her shoes?—
Oh.
Those are very, very tall.
“Alice?” I guess.
She sighs. “Of course.”
“I can carry you,” I offer. She laughs, bright and surprised.
“Bridal style?” she jokes.
I shake my head. “Fireman.”
She dips her head towards me, giggling. We make it safely up the stairs, and she only nearly trips once.
Once we get inside, she lets go of my arm and steps forward, eyes wide.
Laura looks like I’ve dreamt her. She looks like one of Angie’s princesses.
