Connected

by Kim Karr

  Surrounding me, with both palms pressed against the wall, he leans his forehead to mine. While both us try to stabilize our breathing, he grabs my chin and says, “I’ve never been with anyone without a condom.” He removes one hand from the brick wall and draws a cross over his heart. “I’m clean. I promise.”

  I nod my head and kiss him, not wanting to talk about other women he has been with. So I just say, “River, that was amazing.”

  With a sly grin he says, “You could say that again,” as he pulls up my ripped panties and jeans and I button them as he zips his own.

  Once we have both put ourselves together, he curls his arms around my waist and presses himself into me. Bringing his forehead to mine, he starts dancing slowly with me. While we move together in the night, my environment suddenly comes alive, and I see the beauty all around me.

  With the blinking lights below, and the stars above guiding our way, River twirls me around the terrace as he sings one of my favorite songs, Addicted, by Saving Abel.

  When he gets to a verse I know really well, I smirk as he makes up his own lyrics. “I’m so addicted to you, everything you do, it doesn’t matter if you’re walking or dancing, when we’re standing here, the sounds you make and the smile on your face, they’re unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

  I think how true those words are and how much they mimic the way I’m feeling right now. River is unlike anyone I have ever met. And right now I’m so happy to be with him—to be alive.

  Finishing our dance by dipping me, he whispers in my ear, “Sorry about your panties.”

  When he pulls me back up, I joke, “No you’re not, but they were ugly anyway.”

  He laughs and tenderly cups my chin as we experience our first soft kiss of the evening. “You ready to go now? We have a hot tub waiting for us back at the hotel.”

  Nodding my head, I smile, “Absolutely!”

  He slings his arm around me, and I tuck my hand in his back pocket as he leads me to the coat check, both of us grinning ear to ear.

  KISS YOU INSIDE OUT

  Are you ready to go where I want to take you

  I want to feel every inch of you

  I’ll be the one that saves you

  You know I will rock your world

  Let me kiss you inside out.

  It’s Sunday morning, only two days since River and I reconnected. Two days, but it seems so much longer. After all, it only took a minute for me to crush on him that night in the bar five years ago, it took less than an hour for me to lust after him two days ago, and, dare I say, it only took me slightly more than a day to know I could more than like him.

  With our connection so strong, it seems strange that Ben keeps popping into my mind. Will it take a lifetime for me to stop thinking of him? Do I want to stop thinking about him? We were together for so long, he was such a big part of my life, and yet talking to River about him seems like a betrayal. It shouldn’t though, should it? Is it because I’m feeling guilty about not being able to recall ever having this kind of new budding feeling for Ben like I’m having for River?

  Ben and I never experienced the typical milestones of a new couple. Our relationship simply happened. We just loved each other. I don’t recall unique markers like when I knew for sure I loved him or when I knew for sure he was the one I wanted to spend my life with. One day we were best friends, and then one day we were lovers. There was no single moment where I knew I loved Ben, I just always did.

  So yesterday, why did I feel something happening within me that was strange and different? It felt like some alien feelings somehow crashed through the universe and knocked on my door. What were these unknown feelings I had deep within me? I don’t know the answer to these questions, but I do know that as I lie here next to him, I’m full of contentment.

  I remember waking up next to Ben for the four years we lived together and countless other mornings before that, but I don’t recall ever feeling like I do now. We never cuddled with each other when we slept. Ben had his side of the bed, and I had mine. We would usually make love and fall asleep with our legs entwined or arms touching, but by morning we clearly each had our own side of the bed.

  Yet, right now River is sleeping soundly, his body wrapped around mine. I’m nestled into the smooth skin that is his hard sculpted chest. He’s sleeping on the opposite side of the bed than he did Friday night. Funny, maybe he doesn’t have a side, or maybe I don’t?

  We had such a magical night, and yes my backside is a little scratched from the bricks, but what a pleasant reminder of the amazing time we had. Leaving the club around midnight, we decided to walk back to the hotel and enjoy the sights. We walked arm in arm, slowly; we stopped to kiss, and we stopped to talk. We were in no hurry. Having both been sated by our passionate impromptu romp out on the terrace, we just wanted to enjoy each other’s company.

  River stopped as we walked past the fountain at the Bellagio. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out two quarters and handed one to me. Cocking his head, he explained, in that incredibly sexy way he has about him when he talks, that he wanted us both to turn around and throw the coins over our shoulders into the fountain while making a wish. He looked adorable as he belted “One, two, three,” using his fingers like he was cueing up his band to start a song. At the end of three he said, “Go,” and we both tossed our coins.

  Pulling me into him, he rocked us back and forth. When I looked at his gorgeous face, all signs of his playfulness had diminished. Taking on a more serious look, he whispered in my ear, “Do you want to know what I wished for?”

  Staring into his calm bottle-green eyes, I responded with a superstition-induced question. “If you tell, doesn’t that negate your wish?”

  Grinning his so-sexy half smile, he shook his head and kissed me. He ran his nose to my ear and whispered, “I wished for you.”

  Feeling slightly confused, since I was right there, I leaned back and asked, “What do you mean?”

  Moving closer to see the dancing water perform its show, we stood and watched the spectacular beauty in front of us. Then he dunked his head and looked right into my eyes. “Come with me to LA tomorrow.” It wasn’t a question; it was more like a plea.

  With the brilliant white lights twinkling in the flowing water and spray misting us from our close proximity to the fountain, I felt like I was back in our own private, enchanted world. As he stared at me with such intensity, I knew he was completely serious, that he really wanted me to go with him.

  He paused a minute and caressed my cheek. When he licked his bottom lip, shivers ran up my spine before he continued with, “I just moved so I live alone, and I have some down time while I wait on contract negations for the new album.”

  Pausing again, only for a moment, he pressed one palm into the small of my back, ran it up my spine, and pulled me flush against him. Goosebumps surfaced all over my body when he said, “I really want us to get to know each other, to spend some time together.” Then kissing my nose, he finished with, “I’m feeling something between us I’ve never felt before and want to give it a chance.”

  Tapping the back of the fountain wall with his heel, he leaned back slightly and rested his hands on my shoulders, waiting for me to answer.

  It was a moment of pure vulnerability. My throat clenched at his words, and I fought back the tears of joy that stung my eyes. At the same time I had such a mix of emotions swirling throughout my mind. I didn’t know what to say. Of course I wanted to go with him, but I didn’t know if I should. I didn’t really know him. Did I?

  The night had been perfect; our whole time together had been actually. Sure, I had a semblance of a life back home, a job, and friends, but my life of the past two years was nothing like the happiness I had experienced in the last two days. And I knew right then, in that moment, as I stared into his eyes that looked so much like two crystal balls, that I could see my answer. There was nothing I could deny this man.

  I remembered the first time I looked into them that night in the bar s
o long ago, and I remember feeling the exact same way I felt right now; like he could see into my soul. I knew then that if I jumped in I would never get out, and to this day I never have. So I took the answer I saw in his eyes, and I decided to keep swimming, to be happy, to live in the moment. As I glanced at my LOVE bracelet, I bit my lip and playfully answered, “What time are we leaving tomorrow?"

  Even before I could finish my words, he crooked his head in the most adorable way and smiled his full dimpled smile. He lifted me up, urging my legs around his waist as he twirled me around and around. Then in a surprising move, and before I knew what was happening, he jumped over the fountain wall holding me in his arms. There we stood in the streaming cold water, fully clothed, lights twinkling underneath us, mirroring the stars in the sky above. I just looked at him, shook my head, and continued to smile the same smile I had been wearing for the past two days.

  Wiping drops of water off my face, he gazed into my eyes and winked at me as he said, “See, wishes really do come true—even if you share them.” Then he kissed me.

  Lying here now, smiling at the memory of the fountain, I look at our wet clothes that are strewn all over the hotel room. As the light becomes brighter and more radiant, I wish we had closed the blinds so I could stay asleep, dreaming of him.

  I start thinking about how I really should text Aerie. I carefully reach over to the nightstand for my phone. Damn, it’s dead. Aerie is probably so pissed at me. I forgot my phone yesterday in my haste to retrieve my ring, so I never called her. I’ll have to borrow River’s phone and call, but that can wait.

  Since I know I won’t be able to fall back asleep unless I get up and close the blinds to darken the room, I decide it’s time to wake my Dirty Dancer. Did I say my? Sliding my fingers down his chest as it rises and falls with his shallow breathing, I trace every defined crease of his abs, sketching the line leading the way to his deep V.

  Waking, he makes a pleasant noise in the back of his throat as he leans down and kisses the tip of my nose. I glance up at him and when our eyes meet he mutters, “Good morning,” while grinning his sexy crooked grin at me.

  Raising myself up on one elbow, I continue to etch the deep lines of his muscles. With my fingertips heading back up toward his chest I whisper, “You were sleeping so soundly. Were you dreaming of rainbows and butterflies?”

  Chuckling, he quickly untangles our bodies from the sheet and rolls me over onto my back. With him hovering over me, I stare into his eyes, now shining with need as he pins my arms to each side of my head and retorts, “I’ll give you butterflies!” Then driving me crazy, he glides his nose to my ear and whispers, “Can you wait a bit for your coffee?” And he proceeds to do just what he said he would do—give me butterflies.

  Hanging up the phone with Aerie, I can hear River singing Beautiful Day in the shower. Having already showered, I’m working on the interview as I listen to him while smiling ear-to-ear. Hitting the send button in the email program on my portable notebook, and finally submitting the interview to Sound Music, I think how my dad would have really gotten along well with River.

  Actually, I think my dad would have liked him a lot. River has the same taste in music as he did. He likes a lot of the same bands my dad used to like, and of course the same bands that I do, with the exception of Maroon 5. They have been one of my favorite bands for years. I wonder if it’s some kind of a band rivalry that makes River indifferent at the mention of Adam’s name, or just the fact that Maroon 5 is so mainstream. If the answer is the latter, River is very much like my father was. My dad always pushed for the underdog, supported all the Indie bands, and loved to watch them perform.

  The only disagreement my dad and I ever had about music was concerning Top 40 songs. My dad disliked Top 40 music as did Ben, but I love it. Ben disliked it because he didn’t ever vary his choice of music. He listened to the same thing since high school. However, my dad disliked it because he didn’t like the commercialization of songs or bands that occurred with popularity. I’m not sure how River feels about Top 40, but from the songs I’ve seen on his playlists, I’d say he’s not a fan.

  A thought makes me smile as I throw on my running clothes, having decided to make a quick trip down to the hotel boutique in search of some clean clothes to wear for the day. Grabbing my briefcase, I pull a sharpie marker out of it and pick my ripped white cotton panties up off the floor. Under the bow on the front of the panties I scribe the words, “You can push me up against a wall and do dirty things to me anytime.” Before laying the note at the foot of the bed, I pull out my girly pink lip-gloss, apply it heavily to my lips, and kiss the bottom of the note. Leaving a large pink pair of lips for my signature, and grabbing my now-charged phone, I finish the note by adding my cell number and head out the door.

  Dashing into the boutique, I quickly purchase the outfit fitted on the mannequin, shoes and all as well as an extra pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Having selected some revealing undergarments including a pair of slinky black lace boy-shorts, a slinky black lace push up bra, garter belts, and thigh high hose, I change in the dressing room. My cell begins to ring as I reach for an elastic hairband in my purse. It is flashing blocked caller, so I decide against answering it and throw my hair into a messy bun. Applying a flick of powder and a touch of blush, I stop to look at myself. Wow, what a difference a few days can make. I stare at myself in the mirror, no longer wincing at what I see because what I see now, looking back at me, is sexy. Sure I’m still soft and boney with no breasts so to speak, but none of that seems to matter to the adorably charming and attractive man waiting for me upstairs. Feeling very happy with my purchase of a short flared black skirt, a gray fitted off the shoulder sweater, and low-heeled, black studded ankle boots, I set off to get us some coffee and breakfast, feeling better about myself today than I have in a very long time.

  Setting the coffees and scones down next to the door, I search for the room key I found in River’s wet jeans pocket before I left. Pulling it from the small purse crossed over my body, I unlock the door. As I open it I can hear chords of a guitar being played. Bending to pick up the coffees as I open the door, my mouth drops open and I almost dump the plastic lidded cups down the front of my new outfit.

  There he sits in faded worn blue jeans, shirtless, his guitar on his lap. The hot Nevada sun streams through the open glass doors, highlighting the magnificently lean muscles of his perfect chest. He’s the epitome of sexiness. He glances up at me, and motions with his head for me to come sit next to him, but I stand there mesmerized by the view and the sound of the music. As I watch him play, my eyes dart to his nimble fingers picking the fret board on the neck of the guitar. His fingers flow with such ease and the sound they make is so mesmerizing. My eyes travel upward to the muscles in his forearm, flexing sexily with each move. Continuing my visual journey up his spectacular arms, I eventually land my gaze on his taut biceps, and then finally his adorably beautiful face so engrossed in the music.

  His whole body seems to be moving to his own beat. His sculpted definition and full soft lips work together in one single beautiful rhythm. Obviously staring at him, I’m unashamed. I can’t help myself, but as soon as the words, “I want you to want me,” leave his lush mouth, I close my eyes and absorb his tone, his music, and join him in his own beat.

  Opening my eyes when he stops singing the lyrics, I glance over at the couch. I see his Cheap Trick t-shirt lying on the back of it and smile. Now I know where he got the inspiration for the song he’s singing, or at least I think I know. As he continues to sing the chorus while strumming his guitar, my body comes alive. My cheeks blaze and my pulse quickens. Sauntering toward him, I bite my lip hard, and my heart skips a beat as I feel the need to kiss his songful lips, to touch his bare chest.

  Raising his head, he scans my body. When his eyes reach my short flowing skirt, he immediately stops playing. We stare at each other, and he cocks his head to the side as he sets his guitar down. His eyes are simmering. The look on his fac
e tells me everything he wants. He actually looks like he wants to devour me. His tongue slips slowly out of his mouth to lick his bottom lip and when he pulls it back in, ever so slowly, I nearly faint from the raw sex appeal of his simple non-verbal statement.

  I’m a few steps away when he combs his fingers through his disheveled hair, leaving strands sticking up here and there.

  Setting the coffees down, removing my purse, and placing the items on the coffee table, I straddle his lap. “Hey sexy.”

  He kisses the very corner of my mouth as he runs his hands from my boots to the bottom of my skirt. “Hi yourself.”

  Tangling my fingers through his wet hair, I tug on his bottom lip with my mouth. “I really like that song.”

  My thighs tingle as his hands glide under my skirt, I know the moment he feels my new undergarments because his body stiffens, and he lets out a short gasp. “I really like your . . .skirt.”

  Sucking in a deep breath through his teeth, his explores the soft skin between my garter and my exposed thigh. “Did you buy this just for me?” he murmurs against my lips as he runs his fingers up and down the straps of my garters.

  Laughing against his mouth I answer, “Maybe . . .”

  Caressing my tongue with his, tasting me completely, he pauses to mutter, “Then your leaving was worth it.”

  Moving my hands to his chest and grinding into him a little I quip, “Glad you approve.”

  Sliding his nose to my ear, he gently bites my earlobe before whispering, “I loved your note.”

  I smirk at him as his lips crash to mine, and he runs his palms up my back.

  As his fingers move to the knot in my hair, he pulls out my elastic tie. “I called you.”

  Crushing my body against his, my hands wander down his bare skin, along the sides of his torso. “Oh, the blocked caller was you?”

  Running his fingers down the slight curve of my breasts and along each of my ribs, he says, “Let me see your phone.”