She clears her throat, and I realize I let the moment get awkward. She plays with the ends of her hair. “I hope my boss doesn’t have an anxiety attack wondering where I am.”
I reach for my phone, “Do you want to send her a text?”
She smiles that sweet smile again, and a zing hits my heart again. “No. She won’t see it. She turns on her do-not-disturb feature when she’s working.”
“Smart girl.”
“Yes, she is. Talented too.” She cuts her eyes at me, “That gown,” she nods at the garment bag, “is the key to her winning her independence.”
I frown at her. “Shouldn't it have been inside hours ago?”
She laughs and explains, “The size nothing gown that our model was supposed to wear is inside, but the girl showed up too sick to walk the catwalk, so I had to rush back to the boutique and get the one off the mannequin.”
“Are you going to model it then?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing your perfection in it.”
“That’s nice of you to say.” She smiles up at me, and dammit, is that zing going to happen every time?
She asks, “Not to be nosey, just for conversation. Why are you here? This isn’t exactly a gig for a war hero to attend.”
I chuckle. “I’m here to surprise my little sister. I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Oh, wow! How wonderful! She’s going to be so happy.”
“Hmm. That will make two of us.”
Chapter 4
Zella
The lights flicker a couple of times, then they come on and stay on. d’Artagnan pushes his body up the wall and stands. Then he reaches down to pull me to my feet. I stare up at him. He looks damn fine in the tight white t-shirt clinging to his massive pecs with his biceps bulging. Knowing I should feel relieved because I need to hurry to Cathy, instead, I feel a sharp pang of regret. I don’t want to say goodbye. He is so easy to talk to and so dang handsome.
I sigh as he pulls me to my feet, but instead of dropping my hand, he pulls me into his arms. His expression says he doesn’t want to say goodbye either, he feels the same way.
“I’d like to see you again, Rapunzel. May I have your digits?” He asks, staring into my eyes with his deep, dark-brown, smoldering stare.
“Yes, I would like that,” I answer.
He looks down at his phone on the floor but doesn’t let me go. Instead, he looks back at my lips, and I tilt my face up, accepting his silent request.
His hands cup my face, holding me captive, and my hands come up to rest on his waist. He towers over me, massive and strong. Not making me feel weak and small, but submissive and strangely trusting.
Closing my eyes, waiting for his lips to touch mine, the moment feels magical. His intoxicating scent is woodsy, manly musk mixed with clean cologne. I feel his breath on my lips as he hovers. Inhaling the sweet scent of his breath, my inhibitions melt away in a way I have never experienced before.
At first, his kiss is timid, which I find strange given the kind of man he is. But when he releases my face and his strong arms embrace my body, pulling me tight against him, his kiss becomes more demanding, and I realize it wasn’t timidness. It was respectful gentleness, and I melt completely in his arms.
For once in my life, I allow myself to totally let go and enjoy surrendering to his seduction, savoring the sensual feel of the intimate moment, letting him in past my defenses, totally trusting him, losing myself in his deliciousness.
His passionate kiss explores my mouth, taking his time, not rushing, losing himself in me too.
The elevator jumps with a loud KA-CHUNK, but there is nothing to see. The lights are off again, and the phone has fallen on its light. There is only d’Artagnan to feel. Not fazed in the slightest, his tongue takes over, thrusting itself inside my mouth, and I float in a place between reality and fantasy.
d’Artagnan becomes everything. There is nothing else, no one else. All memories of past lovers disappear. Wiped clean.
His hands slip down to cup my buttocks, copping a feel, and I respond by setting my hands on the sides of his trim waist and knead his skin. He pulls my hips tight against his groin, letting me feel how much he wants me. My fingers dig into his flesh, holding him tight. His tongue becomes more demanding, and when mine dances with his, a low moan hums in his throat, lighting a fire inside me.
