Catch My Breath (15 page)

“Close your eyes. Relax.”

The second his fingers started moving slowly down my back, my skin warmed. He caressed all the way down to my backside and legs, leaving goose bumps sprinkled everywhere. A small groan of appreciation escaped my lips.

He swept my hair off to the side, exposing my back. Loosening the bra straps, he slid them down my arms. A heightened awareness prickled at my flesh. I tried to anticipate his next move. Soft lips glided like silk along my shoulders to the nape of my neck. The stress and unpleasantness of the night melted off me as he kissed and nipped his way down to the small of my back. Placing his hands on my hips, he flicked his tongue on my skin, kissing just above the lace edge of my underwear.

Exhaling with great pleasure, I sank further into the mattress. His gentle touch and feathery caresses transported me to a level of relaxation I’d only dreamt about. My mind emptied for the first time in months. All that mattered, all that existed, was his skin on mine. I barely knew him, yet couldn’t imagine a moment without him.

He traced what I thought were shapes and letters along my spine. I couldn’t figure out what, if anything, he was actually spelling. More goose bumps rushed to the surface as he smoothly ran the palm of his hand up from my backside to my shoulders and down again. Time no longer applied to this moment in the universe.

I wasn’t even aware that he’d stopped. Struggling to open my eyes, I saw him lying next to me, our faces inches apart.

“Finished already?” I mumbled into the pillows.

“No, love.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “This is only the beginning.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

I awoke to Alastair nuzzling my neck. His hand was warm and comforting on my stomach. Opening one eye, I saw sunlight pushing its way through the curtains. It glinted off the dark red hair lazing against me.

“That tickles.”

“Hmm?” he hummed, the vibration echoing beneath my skin.

“Your hair.”

“Does it?” He lifted his head, pressing a light kiss to my cheek. “We can’t have that, now can we. Did you sleep alright?”

“Yep. Like a rock. Why do you sound so much more English now than you did last night?”

What the hell am I saying?

“Do I, m’lady?” He nipped at my earlobe, making me laugh.

Traces of cologne lingered on him. Inhaling it, I wondered if waking up with him was always this tantalizing. He’d been among the missing when I’d woken up at his house. I stretched, rubbing my eyes. "What time is it?”

“Time to eat,” he said, a playful grin spreading across his face. “Breakfast arrived five minutes ago. Meet me out in the living room.”

Alastair pushed his sinewy body up off the bed and walked toward the door. He was wearing his plaid pajama bottoms and dark blue t-shirt. I got a nice eyeful of a cotton-clad derriere as he walked out.
Yeah, waking up with him does not suck at all.
Pushing the covers off, I sat up and stretched again, wincing a bit from the soreness in my arm. The red markings were gone, but a couple of small bruises were visible.

Still in my black lace underwear and thigh-highs, I poked around the bed looking for my clothes. His white dress shirt caught my eye. It was draped across the nightstand, so I grabbed it, shrugging it on. It smelled delicious. Buttoning it, I walked into the main living room.

Breakfast looked more like a full buffet fit for the royal family.

“Did you order the entire menu?” I was floored.

Pausing to take an unhurried look at my choice of clothing, he grinned.

“Would you have preferred my cheesy omelet?”

“Maybe.”

“Unfortunately for you, this,” he gestured to the table, “will have to do. I ordered a bit of everything. Eggs, pancakes, bacon, toast, fruit, erm, cereal, too, I think. Not quite a full English breakfast, but it’ll do.”

I loaded a plate with scrambled eggs, two pancakes and bacon, along with some fruit. Alastair chuckled, watching me eat everything with aplomb. I hadn’t been for a jog since Thursday and should probably have cooled it with the pancakes, but they were too good to ignore.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked between mouthfuls.

“I’m waiting to see how much food you leave for me.”

I balled up the cloth napkin as best I could and threw it at him. “Muppet.”

"What?" Alastair started laughing.

"You heard me. Would you prefer I use ‘numpty,’ instead?"

He laughed good and hard for another minute. Sitting there in his cotton pajamas, smiling and carrying on, he looked so relaxed and carefree. It made me happy to see him that way. Hard to believe I was angry with him twenty-four hours ago. It felt like a lifetime had passed. Tiny goose bumps rippled over my skin at the memory of his sweet caresses. He’d been so caring and comforting.

Part of me wanted to remain cautious and take everything as slowly as possible. But it was times like this when I had difficulty listening to that part.

“I’ve lost you to the depths of your mind again, haven’t I?” he asked, nudging my foot. I hadn’t even seen him switch to the chair next to me.

“Yeah, sorry.”

“It happens. However, today I want you to try something.”

“Oh?”

Inching the chair closer, he grasped my hands. Oh for crying out loud, the solemn look on his face was priceless. I chewed the inside of my cheek to stifle a laugh.

“First, I know you’re mocking me. Those eyes of yours are a dead giveaway.”

I tried to feign a serious expression, but ended up giggling.
Giggling? What am I, sixteen?

“As much as I adore your girlish little laugh, I’m serious.” He squeezed my hands, giving me a stern look.

“You’re awfully bossy, Holden.”

“So I’ve been told. Now, in light of your propensity to get so wrapped up in thought that I lose you to the far corners of your mind, I’m proposing the following.” He paused, scanning my face for a reaction before continuing. “For the rest of today, and hopefully into tomorrow, you are not allowed to overthink anything.”

“But I don’t—“

“You do. We both know you do. I offered to buy you a drink the night we met and you thought about it for three days before answering.”

I gaped at him. Not the most attractive thing, but he had me pegged.

“Are we in agreement?” He arched a brow.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

He dragged the chair closer. “Do I look like the type of man who kids about things?”

I wilted. He didn’t look like the type of man who took too kindly to the word ‘no,’ even if this was probably nothing more than a game to him.

“I’ll ask again. Are we in agreement?”

That stare was hot. Too hot. It hit a few buttons in me that I didn’t know existed. Shifting a bit in the chair, I leaned closer, not breaking eye contact.

“Whatever. You. Say.” I squeezed his hand, engaging him in a challenging stare.

“Watch yourself, kitten,” he responded, in a voice as smooth as silk. “It starts now.”

“Does it?” I was way too distracted by his mouth. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip before capturing it between his teeth. The move caught me off guard, sending a surge of heat through my body. I wanted to bite him.

“You don’t play fair.”

“I never claimed to. Kiss me, Lia.”

I hesitated, my breath hitching. This wasn’t going to be as easy as I’d hoped. Or was it? Tearing my eyes away from his mouth, I pressed a quick kiss to his nose. He looked so disappointed, I had to laugh.

“You didn’t say where,” I shrugged, turning back to my breakfast.

A phone call interrupted us, so while he took care of some pressing matter, I gathered up my clothes and redressed. A black ruffled cocktail dress with five inch ruby red Louboutin heels seemed a bit much for a Sunday morning. Shaking my head, I had flashbacks to college and the ever so popular walk of shame. Although, I had nothing to be ashamed of with this walk.

Alastair’s agitated voice sliced through the air the closer I got to the living room.

"Who took them? Are there any more? No. I told you why. That's not your concern. You will do no such thing. Wait until I return. Because I said so. That's your answer."

I shrank against the wall so he wouldn’t see me. He stalked around the room.

"I told you, no," he barked. "She’s my responsibility, I’ll take care of it.”

Panic coiled around my heart. His responsibility? Who? I heard a dull thud, assuming it was the phone hitting the table. I saw Alastair pacing the room, his footsteps vibrating through the floor.

"Hey there," I said, walking into view.

He turned, his expression steely. It softened when he saw me.

“Everything okay?”

“Right as rain,” he replied, avoiding my gaze. "I was just about to shower. I’ll only be a few minutes, then I’ll follow you to your flat.”

* * *

I showered so fast not even the water knew if it actually hit my skin or not. Alastair was waiting in my living room and I didn’t want to take forever. His mood had been a little chilly since the phone call. Rummaging through the closet, I grabbed a bright yellow sundress and some sandals. I loosely pulled my hair into a low, side braid before scurrying out of the bedroom.
Ten minutes. Not too shabby, Meyers.

I paused, watching him soak in the photos hanging on the wall. Arms folded, head tilted, he stood as though he was at an art show instead of in my living room.

“Where were these taken?” he asked, pointing to several pictures.

“Lake Eola, last July. Those are my co-workers and, obviously, Stephanie.”

He reached for my arm. Two oblong purple splotches marred the skin near my elbow. They didn’t hurt, not even when Alastair brushed his thumb over them.

“You look different in that picture. Happier. You weren’t with him back then?”

“Um, yeah, I was. He just wasn’t at the lake that day.”

Nodding, Alastair’s expression remained blank as he looked at my arm.

“It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I tried to divert his attention away from the bruise. All the staring made me uncomfortable. He was so much better at masking his emotions than I. His ability to shut down and remain so dispassionate was, for lack of anything better to say, impressive. Sad, too. The few times I’d seen him unguarded made him human.

“Ready to go?” he asked, tugging on my braid.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere,” he smirked.

* * *

Corn dogs. He wanted us to have corn dogs for a late afternoon snack. I sat on a bench, shaking my head, while Alastair stood in line. We were at the county fair of all places. Not quite what I imagined as a ‘proper date’ destination, but he got points for creativity. I would imagine he’d also get a severe stomach ache after eating every single deep fried morsel of food that was for sale.
He must have steel-lined intestines.

A breeze carried the sweet scent of cotton candy, funnel cakes and caramel apples on its back. County fairs were a guilty pleasure of mine. I wondered if he ever went to things like this as a child in England. I imagined his aunt and uncle wanted to make sure he had as normal a childhood as possible. He never talked about any of it though. Then again, I never asked.

“Here you go. One corn dog.”

He handed me the stick and sat down. Anybody else looking at him would see a random young guy in khaki cargo shorts and gray t-shirt. I think he liked the anonymity. The way he was chowing down on the corn dog led me to believe he liked that, too.

“Where are you putting all this food? You haven’t stopped eating since we got here.”

“I didn’t have much breakfast, if you remember.”

“Oh come on. I barely made a dent in that spread. We could have fed the entire hotel.”

He grinned, grabbed my uneaten corn dog and took a bite. This boyish, almost goofy, side to him was captivating. I hadn’t forgotten about the tense phone call I overheard at the hotel, but seeing him like this made my heart swell. It gave me hope that I’d be able to piece together all the different facets of who he was deep down. Not knowing left me vulnerable to unpleasant surprises.

We strolled in comfortable silence past vendors and gaming booths.

"Let's get a photo." Alastair stopped, pulling his iPhone from his pocket. He asked a woman standing nearby to snap the picture. I leaned against him, wrapping an arm around his waist. The woman cooed in delight at the photo.

"What a beautiful couple you two make," she remarked while handing the phone back to him.

Couple? Not quite. Neither one of us said anything as we walked toward a secluded spot near some trees behind the performance tent. Music from local musicians floated through the air.

“Dance with me,” he whispered in my ear. Apprehension shot through me but I managed to nod. Still under strict orders not to overthink anything, I really didn’t have a choice. Well, I did, I just didn’t have the option to debate it. I knew as soon as we embraced for this dance, the last remnants of any resolve I had to resist him would disappear.

“You’re tense. Relax, Lia. Let me guide you.”

Swaying his hips to the music, he banded his arms around me. The physical closeness made me tremble. The way his body moved against mine kindled a deep seated fire that was hard to control. I couldn’t relax. I couldn’t melt into his arms the way I wanted. He sensed it, I knew he did. Hugging me closely, he tried to assuage my fears by caressing them away. It had worked last night, but failed this time.

“What is it? Tell me.” He pulled back, twisting the end of my braid.

I couldn’t speak. Longing and desire overpowered me. I wanted him too much. That was the problem. I wanted every aspect of him; his controlling nature, his vulnerability, his darkest secrets, his brilliant smile. Given my track record, he was exactly what I should avoid. Einstein said it best about insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. As independent and strong-minded as I believed myself to be, I was drawn to men like him.

At what point was I willing to admit that I’d never find the perfect balance?