Everything I've Never Had (11 page)

His words rain down on me like fiery drops of lust. I close my eyes and rewrite that memory. I thought he was just being an ass, but his unexpected anger was because he was yearning for me. I bite my lip, open my eyes, and shake my head. “It's just because you can't have me, Adrian. I'm nothing special.”

“Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He runs his nose up my throat, scenting me as he goes. I lean my neck back, giving him more access even as my brain screams at me to run—not walk—out of this room. But when he says, “You're everything to me.” My head falls back even further and my eyes close again as I feel him slant his head and attack my jaw, throat, and neck with closed-mouth kisses. I hear myself moan and give myself one more little jolt to try to spare myself from this delicious torment that will only end in frustration.

Adrian works his way back up my throat, but this time, it's his tongue that leaves a scorching path of devastation. I feel as though I've been flayed open and am just a quivering pile of nerve-endings. “Oh my God, Adrian, what are you doing to me?” I manage.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he murmurs against my throat. “You're driving me insane. We shouldn't be here. Doing this. Yet, here we are again. And I can't stop.”

I shiver at his words and will myself to move. I feel his fingers twitch on my thigh, and I ache to bend my knees a little to help his fingers reach their intended destination. I would give anything to feel those fingers on me, inside me. “Adrian, I need—” Right about that time, I hear one of the boys shuffling around in the kitchen, complaining about starving to death. “Adrian, let me go,” I tell him. There's a double entendre to my statement and my eyes pool with unshed tears. He jerks his head back and pins me with his gaze.

“All right, Celeste. I'll let you go,” he acquiesces. Yes, he gets it. I press my lips together hard, barely containing a pained moan that builds in my chest and threatens to erupt. He eases back but only slightly, dropping his hands and throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. I move toward the door and look back at him. He's braced himself on the wall and let his head fall forward. I pat under my eyes with the sides of my fingers to dry any escaped wetness. I exhale, stand up straight, and go out to check on my starving children.

After I see to them, I realize Adrian still hasn't come out of the laundry room. I contemplate going to speak to him. Chickening out, I whisper to Archer to go and tell Adrian that I'm leaving.

Securing the door behind me, I walk briskly to my MINI. I play with a couple of buttons and P!nk's “So What?” blasts through my speakers. “Perfect,” I snap. This will help me get out my pent up frustration before I meet Bradford. Bradford who will not twist me in these knots. Bradford who will not drive me freakin' insane. Bradford who will not cause me to lose myself. Yes, Bradford.

“I REALLY WISH you would let me pick you up for our future dates,” Bradford tells me.

I give him a small smile. He is quite gregarious, and I’m enjoying being with him. “I know you would like that, and I appreciate that. I think it's better this way until I'm ready to introduce you to the boys.”

“So you told me all about them on our last date, and I can't wait to meet them. One thing you didn't do much talking about was you, though.” He gives me a half-smile. He's really adorable and sweet. I'm very fortunate he’s shown interest in me since he's quite different from my other “options,” which are, for me, non-options.

“Umm...what do you want to know?”

“Everything, anything that you're willing to share.” I take a sip of my Pinot Grigio and nod my head, collecting my thoughts. Bradford signals to the server, and he's quickly there refilling my glass.

“Well, what do you already know?”

He surprises me by not mincing words. “I know that your husband died relatively quickly after being diagnosed with cancer and that you haven't dated anyone. I know that your family is pressuring you into choosing someone to help you raise your children.”

My back stiffens at this last little tidbit, and I raise my eyebrow at him. “Really? What do you know of that?”

“Louis told me a little. I don't fully understand it, but I know enough to know that Louis is worried about you.”

I nod my head a little, taking this in. “My family is very...protective. That's why Louis talked me up to you, playing matchmaker.” I nod my head as I begin to put the pieces together. “Makes sense.”

“Well, I'm glad he did. Even if he did have a hidden agenda, I think it was a noble one.” He smiles warmly and reaches out to cover my hand with his. I glance at it and am immediately thrown to the all-too recent memory of another hand on another part of my body. It takes a mammoth amount of effort on my part not to pull my hand away.

I give him a little smile. “Me too, Bradford. You're very nice.”

He removes his hand but not before running his thumb over mine, causing a slight tingle. “Ah...nice? The kiss of death. Women don't like nice guys.”

My brow furrows. “That's not true. I was married to a very nice man for quite some time.”

“So...you had a good marriage?”

“I did. We grew up together. He was one of my best friends. And he was a great dad. My children and I were very fortunate to have him while we did.” Tears pool in my eyes. I may not have been in love with him like a wife should be in love with her husband, but I did miss him when I thought about our friendship and the love he had for our children.

He reaches across the table and tucks my hair behind my ear, cupping my neck for a moment before releasing me. It's a possessive gesture, and I surprise myself by liking it. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad. I brought it up because I know you haven't dated anyone, so I was wondering just how you felt about moving on.”

I take him in—his sincerity, his charm, his good looks. He's the whole package: successful, kind, and intelligent. His light brown cropped hair is slightly wavy, and he has gorgeous blue eyes except that they immediately cause me to think of my favorite blue eyes.
Damn it! I'm a freakin' mess!
“I'm good,” I tell him with way more calmness than I feel. “I'm ready to move on, ready to date. But I think taking it slow is best for me.”

He gives me a half-smile. “I can do slow.” His words and the way he says them cause me to shiver a little. Maybe if I give him a chance and quit comparing him to Adrian, this could go somewhere good.

We finish the rest of our meal with mainly small talk about me. I tell him how I got into the decorating business. How I dream of nothing more than becoming a designer. How I thrive on making the things around me pretty yet functional. How I started way back when I was in junior high. I joke that I was on every organizing and designing committee known to man. I had to get it all out of me, for in my own home, I wasn't allowed to touch anything around me. My mother was meticulous and paid top dollar to the best in the business to decorate our home, the compound, and the firm. Even my own bedroom wasn't mine to personalize. I think that's why I let my boys run wild around my house. It may make for a messy home, but they love it and feel comfortable at home. It was the best thing I could ever offer them because I’d never felt that way.

“OH, THIS BAND is amazing!” I shout in Bradford's ear. The band is unlike anything I've ever heard. I love them! They are Dave Matthews Band meets the Foggy Mountain Boys.

“I'm glad you like them,” he whispers back as he moves in for a slow number. He pulls me close, and I can’t help but have my pulse speed up. Bradford's hips move in time with mine, and the warmth that seeps out of him and into me is refreshing and comforting. My hands rest on his forearms, and he pulls his arms back to take my hands in his and brings them up and around his neck. Running his fingertips down the underside of my arms, he causes a path of fire to quickly spread throughout my entire body. I look up at him in surprise, and he gives me a knowing grin. He continues his sweet torment by running his hands down my sides until they come to rest on my hips. He leans and places a soft, little kiss by my ear and tells me, “I'm really glad you're here with me and that you wore that amazing dress. Every guy in here hates my guts right now.”

I give a nervous little laugh. How can I want Adrian so badly yet be so affected by Bradford's words and touch? Am I that starved for attention? I feel confused all of a sudden. I swallow hard and lean back to take him in. “I don't know about that, but I do consider myself very lucky to be here with you,” I admit.

He gives me a glorious smile and then dazes me by leaning and resting his lips on my forehead before giving me a sweet, lingering kiss there.

As the concert wraps up, we make our way backstage. I'm about ready to jump out of my skin I'm so excited! I have a not-so-secret appreciation for rock stars.

We’re escorted into the VIP room to wait for the budding rock stars, and I’m in awe. For all my money, I’ve never had this kind of access before. There isn’t a surface in the entire huge room that isn’t covered in some kind of swag—giant vases of every flower imaginable with huge metallic balloons in the shapes of musical notes and instruments, t-shirts from every vendor in New Orleans, platters of food, champagne, lots of champagne—which is my weakness—and tons of other stuff. And these bands were just starting out in the States.

Bradford places his hand on the small of my back as he escorts me fully into the room. I feel him lean in and his warm breath on my neck sends shivers down my spine. “Will you be all right here for just a second?”

“Oh, sure,” I assure him, “I’m going to grab a glass of champagne.

His hand moves to my hip to give it a light squeeze. My eyes meet his and he smiles big at the
Wow!
that I imagine is written all over my face. “Good. Be right back.”

“K,” I murmur as he moves away. I watch him walk away, and it’s a mighty fine view. I’d seen him in a tux, a suit, and now in his relaxed look. And he looks good every single way. Today, it is dark jeans that fit him perfectly with a tight, white Henley that draws my attention. I shake my head at myself and my thoughts. Again, I’m amazed that I can be drawn to two men simultaneously. I’m not quite sure how this makes me feel about myself.