I'm beneath no man!" she replies harshly. Then, with a mischievous quirk to her mouth, she adds, "At least not without dinner and a drink first.
M. LeightonHearing her laugh is like listening to the best kind of symphony.
M. LeightonIs that what this is about? You think I'm sleeping with Taryn?"
"Of course I do! I'm sure it's no secret !"
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, first of all she's gorgeous and--"
"You're gorgeous."
"And she flirts very openly with you."
"I wish you'd flirt very openly with me.
Are you paying me a compliment? I just want to be sure, so I don't miss it."
"You make it sound like I'm mean and horrible because I don't throw myself at your feet."
"You don't have to throw yourself at my feet. Although if you want, I'm sure I can think of something for you to do while you're down there.
I shouldn't have stayed as long as I did, but I wanted to hold her while she slept. I wanted her to know I wasn't going anywhere. That she was safe with me. In my arms.
M. LeightonI stop in front of Olivia and cup her face in my hands, kissing her sweetly on the mouth. She looks up at me with her liquid eyes and something in me melts away. I think to myself that I hope it wasn't something important. Something that I needed.
M. LeightonI stop dead in my tracks when I see Nash leaning against the wall right outside the ladies’ room. His legs are crossed casually at the ankle, as his arms are crossed casually over his chest. His smile is faint. And sad.
Finally, he straightens and steps toward me. He doesn’t stop until he is mere inches from me, forcing me to tilt my face up just to maintain eye contact.
He brushes his thumb over the ridge of my cheekbone at the corner of my eye. I wonder briefly if I missed a streak of mascara.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, closing his eyes as if in pain. His face is etched with regret and it tugs at my heart.
“Don’t be. You can’t control other people. I just hope I haven’t embarrassed you too badly, or ruined any important business connections you were hoping to make.”
“I don’t care about business connections. Not at this cost.
Up here, people like that don’t exist,” Nash says quietly as he comes to stand beside me. He’s so close his shoulder is brushing mine. I fight the urge to lean against him.
M. LeightonAre you cold?” he asks, turning toward me to run the backs of his fingers up and down my upper arm, as if testing the temperature of my skin. “Here,” he says, taking off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. The jacket is warm and heavy and smells just like Nash, like whatever cologne or soap he uses. I figure it must be called delicious, maybe by Armani or some other fancy designer. It almost makes my mouth water. “Is that better?” He wraps his arm around me, too, as if to ensure I won’t be cold. Of course, I won’t complain. Even if I was sweating, I wouldn’t complain.
“That’s much better, thank you.
But the thing I notice most isn’t what’s in them—surprise, disbelief, curiosity, maybe a little pity—it’s what’s not. Judgment. Disdain. Horror. None of the things I’ve so often seen in people’s eyes when I’ve had to tell them my story.
Now I want to kiss her even more.
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