Chapter Twenty-Nine Under Any Sky #2
She scoffs and rolls her eyes.
Slowly, I reach my hand out and slide it over her ankle. I can’t stop myself. She’s so close, and I’ve been itching to touch her again.
“Do you know what I’d do if I saw you at a concert?” I ask.
“Do tell.”
“I’d find you.”
She laughs. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“I would,” I insist. “I’d recognize those green eyes anywhere.”
She smiles. “Let’s be honest. I wouldn’t even be at one of your concerts to begin with. So there’s the crack in that scenario.”
I’m so sick in the head that that only makes me like her more.
“You’d tell me you came with a friend,” I say.
She narrows her eyes. “Maybe.”
“So, I’d find you and show you around.”
“What about my friend?”
“They can’t join us,” I deadpan.
“That seems selfish.”
“I’d want to be a little selfish.”
I spread out my fingers, skimming my palm up her calf, then back down to her ankle before wrapping around it. I see little goose bumps explode up her thighs.
“And what would…we do?” she asks. Her words catch as she stares down at my hand circling her ankle.
“We’d go out on the town. Any town we’re in.”
“Any?”
“Unless you had a preference,” I say.
“What if I wanted to be somewhere different?”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, now you’re just being difficult,” I joke.
“Fine, the Grand Canyon.”
“To see the stars?”
That has her biting her bottom lip. “Sure.”
“Then I’d fly you there.”
“That simple, huh?”
I shrug. “That simple.”
“So we’d just talk? Is that what you do with fans?”
“You’re not a fan, remember?” I tighten my hand around her ankle. “I’d ask you questions about you.” I give a gentle tug, sliding her across the sheets an inch, that much closer to me. “Because I’d want to know everything about the woman who is at my concert and doesn’t like me.”
Her smile widens. “But I don’t open up to strangers.”
I slide my hand up her calf. “I’m patient.”
“I’m barely open with my own family.”
I hook my hand beneath her knee again and pull her closer. “I’m very patient.”
“And I’d say that you don’t have very good game, Griffin Harvey.”
I grunt as I hold the dip behind her knee. I stroke my thumb over the top. “I’d try anyway.”
“I’d talk about puppeteering,” she counters.
“I’d love it.”
“I’m boring.”
“Not at all. You’d make me laugh.”
“You hate laughing.”
“Not with you,” I say. “Not at the Grand Canyon under the stars.”
I slowly slide my palm up, just beyond her knee, right at the stitched hem of her dress. Shivers crawl over her thighs.
“Griffin…” she whispers. Suddenly her cheeks are red. “This is a lovely fantasy, but c’mon.”
“What?”
She sighs, reaching out to trace her fingers over mine. “You wouldn’t actually want me if we hadn’t met through weird circumstances. Be serious.”
I remove my hand from her leg, reach up, and grab her chin between my thumb and forefinger. I tilt her head to look at me.
“I’m always serious,” I say. “You told me that once.” My eyes dart between her green ones. “So why don’t you believe that I’m serious now?”
But I can hear her thoughts through her facial expressions, the thing she won’t say out loud. Because I’m just me.
I shake my head.
“Believe me,” I say. “I’d want to spend all night talking to you.”
“Under the starry sky?” she asks sarcastically.
“Under any sky.”
I tuck my fingers back under her knee, giving one final tug until her feet are almost entirely in my lap. I ghost a palm over her arm and up to her shoulder, then trace a thumb over the dip between her collarbones. Her breath hitches.
“God, you are…pure magic, Beverly,” I murmur. I don’t even know if I intended for her to hear it, but the words resonated through me.
She cocks her head to the side. “I like you too.”
“Good, because”—I huff out a self-deprecating laugh—“I keep picturing ways to kiss you again.”
“And what have you imagined?”
My eyes whip to hers. She’s watching me intently.
I lean forward, cupping her shoulder in my open palm as I hold my breath and brush my lips across her collarbone.
I pull back. Maybe it’s too much.
But her fingers spread over my forearm, holding me close.
I purse my lips against her skin again. She lets out a shaking exhale. Her body is so warm. So soft.
“I’ve imagined I’d kiss you here,” I whisper, moving to her shoulder, then kissing the top. “And here.” My mouth moves to her neck to place a kiss there as well. She tilts back, as if granting me more room along the column of her throat. I kiss below her chin. “And here.”
I run my lips across her jaw and to her ear, where I can’t help but nip at the earlobe and bury myself in her hair, tasting grapefruit and a sheen of sweat that is so, so sweet.
“And here,” I murmur, the words cracking as I finally brush my lips over hers.
I pull back, peering into her eyes. For the first time, I see every ring of green. The light. The dark. The flecks of something else entirely. Not even a color but a pulsing want.
She reaches out and strokes her palm along my jaw and neck, tracing down until she rests her hand just above my heart. She must feel how much it pounds under her touch.
I place my hand on the bedsheets, right next to hers, entwining our thumbs together. It feels like our little secret. Then again, I always feel like I’m getting away with something by being with Beverly.