by Aly Martinez
“I’m… Hey, I’m sorry. Listen, I’m starving. Any chance you want to go grab a bite to eat?”
He swallowed hard then asked the ground, “You asking me out?” The question was teasing, but his voice was gravelly and packed with unshed emotion.
Mine wasn’t much better, breaking as I nervously replied, “I really just want to get off this bridge right now.”
His head popped up, and I offered him a tight smile he seemed to accept as my answer. As he focused on me, the color began to slide back into his face.
“Okay,” he agreed.
I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded entirely too many times. Dropping his cigarette to the ground, he took a step in my direction. He soothingly rubbed my arm, and I couldn’t pretend that it didn’t help calm my nerves, but that wasn’t the only reason I leaned into his touch.
A gentle smile played on his lips as he brushed the curls off my neck and whispered, “I know a little Puerto Rican restaurant that’s open until two. You good with that?”
“That works,” I mumbled.
His eyes studied my face as he asked, “You okay?”
“Are you?” I countered.
He didn’t bother with a response. Resting a hand on the small of my back, he guided me toward the foot of the bridge.
We didn’t chat on the way down. Only a few stolen glances and shy smiles were exchanged. I hated feeling awkward with Sam, but judging by the way he watched me out of the corner of his eye, he didn’t like it much, either.
“You want to ride with me?” he asked, spinning a keychain around his finger when we got to the parking area. All signs of his earlier distress had surprisingly vanished.
“Umm…” I stalled, not wanting to acknowledge my driver waiting for me in the car. However, I was fearful that Devon’s forehead vein would rupture if I disappeared with a random guy—even if Sam was only random to him. “I, uh… I’m not sure. Maybe I can just meet you there or something.”
He lifted a finger and tapped on the bridge of my glasses. “You gonna wear those all night?”
“I haven’t made it that far.” I smiled tightly.
“Well, how about this? Let’s start with you telling me your name. Then we’ll deal with the carpool and sunglasses. After you accosted me with your mouth last night, we’re practically dating. I should probably know your name so I can go ahead and buy our matching airbrushed license plates.”
I threw four fingers up. “Four-eva.”
He drew in a sharp breath. “The fact that you got that joke is so fucking sexy.”
My cheeks heated as I attempted to cover with more humor. “Besides, I owe you nothing. If I remember correctly, you seemed to enjoy that accosting. Wait. How did it go?” I stopped to tap on my chin then gave a breathy moan, mimicking his from the night before.
“Oh, come on. It was a manly moan and you know it,” he flirted, flashing me a bright grin that warmed places other than just my cheeks.
The absence of that feeling in my life might have been the only reason I let my guard fall away. I couldn’t restrain myself anymore. I scooted forward, and as I hoped, Sam slid his arms around my waist, tugging me against his chest.
“Is your boyfriend going to kill me for this?” He nodded to my car only a few yards away.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I whispered as my breathing began to speed.
I shouldn’t tell him.
I was losing my mind.
It was one kiss that probably meant nothing to him.
Maybe that was true, but in the few days since I’d gotten to know Sam, he had begun to mean a whole lot of something to me.
My heart pounded in my chest as I weighed my options.
I can’t risk him telling the whole world about my dirty little bridge secret.
I should just walk away before the headline “Levee Williams is suicidal” paints the front page of nearly every tabloid imaginable.
But, for reasons that could only be explained by the safety I felt when I broke down in Sam’s arms, I announced, “My name’s Levee.”
He tipped his head to the side in surprise. “Really? Levy, like the tax or the pop princess?”
Shit.
“Levee, like the embankment used to prevent the overflow of a river.”
His head snapped back as he barked a laugh. “True story.”
I didn’t quite understand his reaction, but I steeled myself for worse.
Squeezing an arm between us, I pulled my sunglasses off and quietly finished, “And the pop princess.”
His eyes, not surprisingly, flashed wide, but his words were not at all what I’d expected.
Cupping my jaw, his callused thumb rubbed over my cheekbone. “No bruises,” he breathed, visible relief paining his face.
My mouth quirked in confusion. “What?”
Placing his other hand on my cheek, he framed my face. “Your shades—they weren’t to cover bruises.”
“Jesus, Sam. I told you no one was hurting me. I tripped down some stairs.”
“Yeah, but everyone uses that excuse,” he said through an infectious smile.
“I fell off the stage during rehearsals the other night. Some asshole leaked the video. It’s probably trending right about now if you need proof.”
He laughed. “That’s really fucking good news. I was worried about you.”
I was worried about him.
“Well, don’t. I’m fine.”
He angled his head, giving me a side-eye that told me he wasn’t buying it. He was probably right, but I rolled my eyes. Once again, he laughed, but this time, he brushed his lips against mine.
“So, the guy in the car?”
I pressed to my toes and grazed my lips against his again. “Bodyguard.”
Nipping at my mouth, he pulled me even tighter against his firm body. “You should fire him”—kiss—“for letting you go up a bridge every night alone.” Kiss.
I smiled against his lips. “I’d fire him if he followed me.”
“I follow you.” He smirked. Kiss.
“Every celebrity needs a stalker I guess. The good news is I happen to like mine.”
“That definitely makes my job that much easier.” He licked his lips in a way that sent tingles over my body. A soft moan escaped my mouth when his tongue retreated.
“Kiss me,” I whispered.
He stared at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine for something. There was nothing to be found except lust.
“Kiss me,” I repeated.
He all-too-willingly obliged my plea and crushed his mouth to mine. It wasn’t timid or laced with concern like the kiss from the night before. It was deep and filled with indescribable relief.
He was kissing me.
“I’m sorry I taste like smoke,” he murmured against my mouth. “Damn it, I’m ruining the mango.”
I giggled, sliding my hands up his sculpted back. Sam might not have been thick, but taut muscles curved his lean body.
“It’s just gum,” I said. “I’ll give you some next time.”
“Definitely.” He stopped kissing me and leaned his forehead to mine. “Levee, it’s really fucking good to meet you.” He sighed and then punctuated it with another kiss. “Now, let me buy you some of the best rice and beans you will ever taste at midnight on a Wednesday.”
“Okay,” I replied, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace.
“So, how does this work?” He shoved a hand in his pocket and rocked to his toes. “Do you have an entourage or just the bodyguard you need to take with us?” He teasingly poked my ribs.
It was my turn to give him the side-eye. He was acting entirely too nonchalant about my little identity reveal.
“Did you know it was me all along?”
“What? No! I would have immediately tried to have sex with you if I’d known,” he answered frankly.
“Great. Is that supposed to be reassuring?”
“No, it was supposed to be a joke, princess.”
I levele
d him with a glare. “Don’t.”
He laughed and threw his hands up in surrender. “Hey, you were trying to get in my pants way before I was trying to get in yours.” Then he grinned something so beautiful that my eyes dropped to his mouth before I could even stop them.
“Can we just go eat?”
Quirking an eyebrow, he fought a smile. “Is that disappointment I sense? Levee, do you want me to try to sleep with you?”
“No,” I scoffed, looking away.
When my gaze drifted back to his face, he was sporting another huge grin, and just like it had earlier, it did some seriously warm things to me.
“Then I won’t.”
“Good,” I replied quickly.
“Good,” he repeated, but his eyes bounced to my mouth and his smile spread confidently.
“Oh God, can we just get some food now? This is getting awkward,” I huffed.
“More awkward than making out with your stalker?”
I swayed my head in consideration. “It’s getting there.”
His shoulders shook as he chuckled until something caught his attention over my shoulder. “I think you’re being summoned.” He pointed to the headlights flashing at us across the parking lot.
“Yeah, that’s Devon, my um…bodyguard.”
“Soon-to-be ex-bodyguard?”
“Uh, no. He’s been with me for years. I hated him at first, but now, he comes to my house for Christmas dinner. I’m not firing him for respecting my decisions.”
He huffed. “All right. All right. I get it. He’s your Kevin Costner.”
“Wow. You were so much more charming from behind my shades.”
I actually adored that he wasn’t acting stiff or freaking out on me. He was just…Sam.
“You’re full of it.” He winked.
I rolled my eyes. There was no use arguing with him. I really was full of it. Sam was even better now—and he was already intoxicating. Thankfully, that remained locked in my own head.
“Come on. Devon can drive.”
He rested his hand on my lower back. Only, this time, I didn’t even pretend not to arch into his touch as I returned his flirty wink.
Leaning forward, he brushed my hair off my shoulder and whispered, “Game on,” into my ear as he slid his hand down a fraction of an inch, moving it from respectable territory to just above my ass.
But, as far as I was concerned, not nearly low enough.
AFTER MEETING HER hulking bodyguard—who, thankfully, didn’t resemble Kevin Costner in the least—he drove us both the mile and a half to Raíces. When he parked us out back, I tried to open the door to lead Levee inside, but he slammed it in my face. Levee laughed and informed me that Devon needed to “scope it out first.” The man would let her wander up the side of a bridge nightly, but God forbid she walk into a tiny hole-in-the-wall restaurant where the biggest worry would be stumbling down the steps after too many sangrias.
However, I didn’t argue. I assumed they had a system. And besides, Levee was curled up under my arm with her head resting on my shoulder. As far as I was concerned, we could have waited in the back of that SUV all night. During those twenty minutes, we didn’t talk much. I’d drawn circles on her arm, and even though she later denied it, she’d fallen asleep at one point. I was absolutely in no rush.
When we finally made it inside, Raíces was strangely empty. The place wasn’t usually packed, but it was never a ghost town. I had a sneaking suspicion Devon wasn’t paying for our dinner as he stood with the owner, swiping a black American Express.
I gave Levee a suspicious glance as she peeked up at me through her lashes, embarrassed. Tossing her a reassuring smile, I kissed the top of her head. It wasn’t like I was going to complain about some quiet time.
Two beers, three sangrias, and an order of mofongo and plantain chips later, I was sitting across the table from one of the biggest celebrities in the music industry.
But that wasn’t why my cheeks hurt from smiling. Or why my hands itched to touch her. Or why I had forgotten about the entire world outside that restaurant.
Of course I’d been shocked when Levee had pulled her sunglasses off, but really, I’d been just so fucking relieved that her life wasn’t nearly as hard as I had speculated over the last week. It was a huge burden off my shoulders for me to know that she had the money and support system in place to take care of her issues. She wasn’t some lonely woman navigating life alone. Kidnapping wouldn’t be necessary. I could focus on getting to know the real person behind the shades. The one I had so fiercely connected with over the last week.
“You can’t hold that against me. I mean, I like your music too. I was trying to be honest.” I laughed as her mouth hung open in mock horror.
Clinking her glass of sangria against my beer, she said, “I can’t believe you like Henry more than me! Well, I guess the good news is that Henry would probably prefer you over me too.”
“Hey! I’m not gay. I just said I like one of his songs. One.” I waved a single finger in her direction.
“Seriously, this is the story of my life. He’s going to try to woo you.”
I stabbed my thumb toward my chest. “Straight.”
“Oh please. Far bigger men than you have swapped teams for Henry.”
“Okay, slow down there, princess. No one is switching teams. I’m trying to woo you with cheap sangria right now. One step at a time, please.”
“I swear to God, Sam. Stop calling me princess,” she demanded, but one corner of her lips twitched. And I only noticed it because I was watching her mouth—intently.
“It’s just… Designer Shoes doesn’t have the same oomph to it.”
“You’ve spent the last week trying to get my name. Use it,” she snapped but hid her amusement by lifting the glass to her lips.
Reaching across the table, I pressed up on the bottom of her drink. “Clearly, with that attitude, you haven’t been wooed properly. You should have more.”
“Stop,” she laughed, spilling the red liquid down her chin as she fought to set the glass back down.
After nabbing my napkin, I wiped it off her face while she cleaned it from her lap.
“Great,” she said. “I’m a mess now.”
“Well, that just makes us a matching pair.” I pointed to my shirt where, earlier, she had accidently flung sauce on me.
“I told you I was sorry. That plantain chip went rogue. You can’t hold me responsible for that.”
I shook my head, sliding my hand across the table to intertwine our fingers.
Staring down at our joined hands, she whispered, “This is fun.”
I gave her a squeeze. She wasn’t wrong. It was, by far, the best night I’d had in as long as I could remember. Amazing. Yes. Surreal. Incredibly. I could easily go so far as to say great.
Conversation flowed easily. She made me laugh, and I made her scowl—then laugh. We didn’t talk about the heavy. I didn’t ask her why she was on that bridge every night, and she didn’t ask me, either. We just bullshitted like old friends.
It was great.
She was great.
I had an overwhelming need to keep her great.
“What’s your last name?” she asked, dropping her napkin on the table.
“Rivers.”
“Shut up. I’m serious.”
“So am I.” I dragged a rePURPOSEd card from my wallet and slid it across the table. “Just think how fun your name would be if we got married.” I winked.
She glared.
“What? Too soon?”
“By, like, ten years.”
“Ten years? The sangria is not that bad.” I feigned injury.
She barked a laugh. “So, tell me about rePURPOSEd?”
“I take junk, repurpose it, then sell it as new. Too easy. Rich people love it.” I paused. “Present company excluded, of course.”
“Guitar bookshelves?”
“Yep.”
She flipped my hand over and traced a finger around the cut on my pal
m. Tingles radiated out from her touch. I was done keeping my hands to myself. I desperately wanted the connection the table had been denying me all night.
Pushing my chair away, I gave her hand a squeeze. “C’mere.”
Her cheeks pinked as she stood and slowly closed the distance between us. With a quick tug, I pulled her off-balance and into my lap.
Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, I brushed my thumb over her bottom lip. I leaned in for a welcomed taste, and the sweet fruit from the sangria covered the mango I’d come to expect. “I want to see you again.”
A shy-schoolgirl blush tinted her cheeks even darker. “We do kinda have a standing date for tomorrow night on the bridge.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I glided a hand up her back, and as if she had been waiting for a sign, hers seductively slid under the edge of my shirt. Her smooth fingers teasing my skin stole my breath. I gasped and caught her wrist. “I want to see you again, but not on the bridge.”
“Okay,” she whispered, brushing her lips against mine.
She was squirming on my lap. I couldn’t be responsible for the stir of my cock—or the way she seemed to approve by shifting her weight to press against it. I scanned the room, suddenly aware that I was about to maul her in public, and caught sight of Devon escorting our waitress and the owner into the kitchen.
Maybe he is good for something.
With our audience gone, I took her mouth indecently. She responded by straddling my lap, her dress inching up as she planted her core directly over my zipper. I groaned and thrust a hand into her hair, pulling her head back and moving my assault to her neck.
“You drunk?” I asked between nips.
“A little,” she moaned, grinding a circle in my lap.
Fuck. Me.
“I see my wooing worked.”
She turned her head to the side, encouraging me to continue.
God, did I want to continue. Just not in the middle of a restaurant with a room full of people corralled in the kitchen. But how could I get her anywhere else without looking like a jackass who was just trying to sleep with the celebrity? I knew the girl on the bridge, and everyone knew Levee Williams. But I needed her to get to know Sam Rivers…fast.
Palming each side of her face, I dropped my forehead to hers. “I’m about to make things awkward. It’s kinda what I do. Just bear with me.”
