Page 591 of One More Kiss
Chapter2
Kristee
I reach the levee and hear the song on the wind. It calls to me, and I’m helpless to prevent myself from following it. I simply want to see who is creating the hauntingly beautiful sound. As I get closer, I see him. He’s sitting on the bench, bent over with the guitar propped on his lap as he lovingly strokes the guitar strings, creating the enticing song. His arms, and even his fingers, are covered with beautiful ink. His tattooed throat moves as he sings along with the sound. So many tattoos.
I’ve always wanted a tattoo, a semi colon, but I never worked up the nerve to actually go get one. Not that it matters now. The way his fingers move over the strings captivates me. I can’t look away.
When he finally stops playing, I feel bereft, and a loud sigh escapes me. I don’t intend to speak, but the words just leave my mouth. “You play beautifully. I felt the music. It seemed to call to me, and I had to see who was playing the melancholy melody.” My eyes finally lift from his hands and raise to gaze at his face. My heart stops beating.
His face was beautiful in profile. The tattoos did nothing to detract from the angled jawline and his prominent cheekbones. But nothing could have prepared me for the magnificence of the face I’m seeing now. His eyes unflinchingly meet mine. The air around me suddenly feels electric and not from the lightening cracking in the distance.
Setting his guitar beside him on the bench, he slowly stands. He’s tall. Taller than I imagined. The top of my head only reaches near his chin. His eyes drift over my face as though he’s trying to decipher something.
Have we met? Do I know him? I don’t. I would certainly remember a face like his.
His eyes rove slowly, taking in every feature, every imperfection upon my face. A smile spreads across his, creating a dimple in his left cheek. “I knew your eyes would be hazel.”
What? My eyes?
Blinking in confusion, I feel my forehead crease. “What?”
His smile spreads. His lip ring, and the abundance of piercings in his ear, catch the glow of the streetlight. A slow smile that turns his already insanely attractive face into something almost otherworldly. My body’s reaction to him confuses me. My heart is racing as my pulse flutters beneath my skin as though it’s trying to escape the confines of my body.
Why is this insanely gorgeous man even talking to me at all? He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. If he isn’t a model, he should be.
Looking around hastily, trying to decipher who he’s speaking to, I see no one else in the vicinity. My eyes quickly return to his face. He’s still smiling down at me. His voice is rich and bemused as he says, “Your eyes. I thought your eyes would be hazel. I couldn’t see them when you approached. They were hidden in shadow. But I knew they’d be hazel. I was right.”
“Why are you wondering about my eyes?” I reply, flabbergasted.
His blue eyes, the color finally discernible beneath the streetlight, stare into mine. He shrugs as his lips twist. “Because I noticed you. As soon as you approached, I couldn’t look away.”
What? Is this a joke?
No one sees me. No one.
So, why would he?
My eyes widen before I narrow them on him. “Why would you say that? Are you toying with me? Is this a game?”
He seems taken aback by the ire in my voice. His hands raise, palms flattening in the air, before they fall back to fist at his hips. “Toying with you?”
His head is cocked to the side as he regards me with wide eyes. “What? What do you mean? A game? What sort of game would this be?” A chuckle sounds leaves his throat, but uneasiness is evident within the sound. “Look, I’m kind of confused as to what’s happening here.” He gestures to his guitar. “I was just out here… clearing my head.” His voice fades away. I hear something underlying in his words that instantly piques my interest. “I come out here to play and watch the sunset. You came over to me as I was playing. And now you’re acting like I did something wrong…”
Why would he need to clear his head?
He thinks I’m crazy.
He actually saw me. He knew I existed, but now he thinks I’m crazy.
My brows draw together as I regard him. My head angles and I watch his face. I should be uneasy. He’s a strange man. Someone just out here on the levee.
He could be homeless. He could be a junkie. Or a serial killer. But he isn’t. I know he isn’t any of those things. He’s too put together. Even with his tattoos and piercings.
I feel it.
He’s safe. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.
I’m not afraid of him.
