Chapter 15 #2
He shrugged, suddenly unsure of the depth of her attention on him.
“I’ve been really lucky. I reached out to a group like this when I was thinking things out.
I had great support through everything, but I know it doesn’t happen like that for everyone.
So I volunteer. I mean, I had official training too.
Kids call in and talk about issues or identity or stuff they’re going through.
I don’t counsel them; I’m not trained for any of the heavier stuff.
But we have psychologists or social workers or crisis managers we can call. ”
“I should do something like that.” The bartender had refilled her soda and she sipped at it. “I don’t do anything special.”
“Hey.” He took her chin between his fingers, grateful for the contact. With a light touch, he raised her gaze to his. How many times had he dreamed of being this close to her? “You are special. You change lives with your music.”
She closed her eyes but didn’t move from his touch. “Only if I finish a song.”
One of his fingers drifted along the curve of her jaw.
Not for the thirty-thousandth time, he wondered what she would look like in his bed, a rainbow of her hair colors strewn across his pillow.
Today’s was a light violet that made her eyes glow.
“Your songs are amazing. When you play, everyone listens.”
“I hope that’s true.”
“It’s true for me.”
The air in the bar stilled, like it was waiting for something. The humidity settled over them like a warm blanket, cocooning them in the moment.
To his disappointment, she broke it by moving away from his touch and sipping her drink. He wanted nothing more than to have that moment back.
“I love this song.” He tilted his head, closed his eyes, and listened. It was one of those Southern bluesy rock songs, the kind with a deep bass drum keeping time and a rhythm made from hard labor and tears.
“Yeah, this type of music always gives me the shivers.” Ellery sipped again at her drink. She was wearing a long paisley sundress with multiple straps crisscrossing her shoulders and back.
“I didn’t know you owned a dress like that.” He gestured with his bottle, wishing he had the courage instead to run his fingers over the straps. But he was too desperate for the skin beneath. His sense of control was threadbare at the moment. “It’s really pretty. Usually you’re in camo or jeans.”
She shrugged, the compliment lightening her features. Damn it, if she hadn’t been beautiful before… “I feel different here. A little more free. Maybe it’s being with my family.”
“You’re having a good time?” He shook off the minute pang of jealousy that someone else could make her happy.
“The best. I’ve always loved them, and they mean so much to me.” She swallowed, her eyes darkening for a moment. “I’m glad they’re happy here. Even Samara. She’s been through a lot, but she’s found a job she likes and she’s making friends. Hopefully it’s a good place for them.”
There was a sadness behind her words that clicked for him. “Are you disappointed that they’re together and you’re so far away?”
She laughed, her eyes glistening. “Am I so easy to read?”
“Maybe just to me.” He wanted to hold her hand. That was it. Hold her hand. So many times they brushed against each other, then leaped apart. He didn’t want that, not tonight.
“When I was in college, I wanted to be seen apart from my family. Now that I’m older, I feel like I still don’t have my own identity, but I miss them more and I wish I could figure out how to be me and also one of them.” She finished her diet cola. “I’m not making any sense.”
“Yes, you are. But you are one of them. They’re so proud of you.”
Her eyes watered. “I hope so. My dad was a little upset when I didn’t come to him to review the initial contract with Logan. Now I won’t let him read it.”
She had moved infinitesimally closer to him, and every half inch felt like a mile.
He could drink her in from here. “He trusts you, El. I know he does. Selene and Lorraine trust you.” He swallowed.
Her hand was there, right there on the bar.
He hesitated only for a second before giving in to temptation at long last. He traced the fine, strong knuckles of her hand with one fingertip.
Good Lord and everything holy, she felt like velvet and silk. Forbidden and rich. “I trust you.”
Her gaze locked on the finger tracing her hand. “Dante…”
But he felt bolder now. He added another fingertip, then another. They’d hedged around the questions for years, and he needed things to move forward. He was so tired of waiting. “Why don’t you ever ask me about my transition?”
Anxiety gripped his spine. The only way to move forward was honesty, but damn it if it wasn’t difficult.
She turned her hand over to expose her palm to his touch.
“I want to know everything about it. But it’s your story.
You own it. You have the right to tell me how and when you want, if you want.
No matter what, you’re always you and I’m here to listen.
” She blushed a little. “Okay, I may have read the books you recommended. And gone to a few PFLAG meetings.”
“A few?” Warmth bloomed within him. It had taken his parents over two years to read What’s the T?
“Okay, maybe more than a few. The others really like my ambrosia salad. It’s the only thing I can cook.” She blushed, the color in her cheeks heightening her beauty.
“Thank you.” The words caught in his throat, but now they were palm to palm, skin to skin, and it felt a little like magic.
She threaded her fingers through his and tugged gently. “Come on. I’m tired of sitting.”
Helpless against the tide of attraction roiling within him, Dante followed.
“Oh my sweet heavens, they have Skeeball.” Ellery clapped her hands in glee. “We have to have a competition.”
Dante ran his fingers through his hair. He’d rather still be holding her hand.
“Skeeball? You want to have a Skeeball competition?” When she’d taken his hand, he’d thought they would go somewhere quiet, maybe out to the beach or the back of the bar.
Hell, he would have followed her onto her parents’ boat—parked in the harbor, waiting until morning to ferry them all to the tiny island where they lived.
If he had a preference, he would have taken her back to his hotel room. There were a few things to work out, but—
“Of course I want to have a Skeeball competition.”
She was brighter than usual, a little jittery, as she fed dollar bills into the token machine. Okay. Maybe she was nervous. Dante shelved his own desires for the moment, tamping down the want. He’d gotten far too good at it over the years.
“Let’s play Skeeball.”
They played until their tokens ran out, then until their cash faded.
“This is a terrible game in a bar,” Ellery said, her face flushed and tendrils of hair sticking to her cheekbones. “It’s so loud.” She rolled the ball into the 150 spot and punched the air like Rocky Balboa.
“Agreed. It’s still pretty awesome.” Dante reclined against the machine, his gaze fixed on her. The way she screwed up her mouth just so, the way she practiced her throw before she moved, the concentration furrowing her brow. Every moment he fell more for her, and he hadn’t known that was possible.
“Whoo!” she cried, her last ball making it to the 250 spot. “Beat that, Baker!”
“I can’t. We’re out of money.”
“Oh.” She held his gaze for a beat, then another.
Heat built inside him, curling up his lower spine, pooling deep in his belly.
She hadn’t let herself be changed by Logan, not really.
This was the Ellery he adored. Whatever she said next, he’d agree to.
Wherever she asked him to go, he would be there.
He was the planet in her orbit. “I’m ready now. ”
“Ready for what?”
To his surprise, she pressed her body against his, lining her arms and legs to his.
Everywhere she touched sparked and burned.
Then she rose on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, her lips cool and at the same time setting off a bonfire within him.
“Ready for you to take me back to the hotel,” she whispered into his ear.
He clenched, his body tightening and firing in response. “We don’t have to.” But she was so close. He laid a hand against her lower back, drawing her closer. Pleasure licked along his body from the contact.
“I want to. I’m tired of ignoring this.” She cupped his chin in her hands. “Please.”
“There’s some things we should talk about—”
“Okay. Whatever you say. I’m here. I’m listening. I want.” Her voice was breathy, but she gripped the lapels of his shirt and drew his mouth to hers. He could definitely drown in her sweet taste.
He would give her anything she asked. He tried to nod, but instead ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers. A moan rose deep within him, one filled with need and want and pent-up lust. He closed his hand along her lower spine, clenching the dress fabric into a tangled ball. “Let’s go.”