A Taste of Bliss

by Adrian R. Hale

  “She needed to hear what you said. She wanted to make sure I would be loved and taken care of if she were gone,” she manages, the tears pouring hotly down her cheeks and gumming up her words. “Thank you. Thank you for helping her find her peace.”

  My girl is beautiful in her sadness. I will heal her heart, help her find ways to honor Lisa’s memory even in death. Now, she needs to be away from this room.

  I lead Bliss out of the bedroom and into the living room. Andy has stayed behind to have his final moments with Lisa after we did. Andrea will stick around to make all of the necessary arrangements for us, but she is discreetly staying out of the way for now.

  I sit on the couch and pull Bliss onto my lap, cradling her as she curls up within my arms. I love moments like this with Bliss, when she lets me be her strength. She’s incredibly independent and stubborn enough to not give me many moments like this. I run my hands softly through her hair and along her back, soothing her in a way I know she loves. I don’t try to console her otherwise. She needs this time to grieve as hard as she wants to.

  In a few days Bliss will have to make the calls and update Lisa’s friends. For now, we will let the news wait. Christmas day is no time to hear a loved one has lost their fight with cancer. I’m thankful for the time to let Bliss process this herself. It’s surreal to lose a parent. I have faced the prospect of this day for almost five months, knowing Bliss would be left without her mother. It still doesn’t seem like it could have actually happened.

  Bliss’s mother is dead. Bliss cries harder in my arms, as if she heard my thoughts. I hold her tighter, maybe the only thing that is holding her together at all.

  “I am so sorry baby. I love you, Bliss.” I will never get tired of saying those words to my girl.

  She looks up, seeing my own tear-streaked face. I hope I hold all the strength and devotion her mom always had for her. I will never be a substitute for Lisa; I just hope I can be something else entirely that she loves just as much.

  “I love you back.” A ghost of a smile lifts her lips. I love when she says that.

  “Do you want to go home, or stay here tonight?”

  She looks around the familiar apartment. We both feel the loss of Lisa hanging heavily in the air. There is a thick layer of sorrow coating every surface. She shakes her head.

  “I can’t stay here, not now.”

  I nod, shifting her slightly so she is reclining on the couch, letting me get up to head into the bedroom. Andy is kneeling next to the bed, gently caressing Lisa’s lifeless hand. I squeeze his shoulder, getting his attention.

  “I’m taking Bliss home. Let me know if you need anything. We will be around in a few days. I know things are all good and ready to go, but you have my number if something comes up.”

  “Thank you, Talan. You have been amazing for that little girl. Well, woman, really. Now go, we’ve got this here. Take care of her.”

  I return to the living room and help Bliss off the couch. I can see the suffocating grief hanging on her in the slump of her shoulders and the slowness of her movements. At least she has managed to stop the free-flowing tears. I’m determined to be her strength right now, no matter how I happen to feel. Which is pretty shitty, but I can handle it.

  I buckle her into the Mini and drive her to San Francisco in a sad silence. She can get pretty introspective sometimes, but I don’t feel the need to break into her thoughts. I only do that when I see the wheels turning; her brain creating stories that vary from the actual truth. Then I make sure she knows exactly what’s going on.

  An hour later, we walk into our condo at the Watermark, now tastefully decorated by Bliss for Christmas. The eight-foot tree glows warmly in the living room, piles of wrapped gifts underneath. Man I love spoiling this girl. Her eyes light up and I can practically read the “For me?” that crosses her mind every time I give her some token of my love.

  Even little things, like remembering her favorite yogurt that she accidentally leaves off the grocery list makes her so happy. There are a few special presents under the tree for Bliss, but the rest of the gifts will be taken to the local children’s hospital tomorrow and given to kids with terminal cancer.

  Bliss found a way to repay all of the thoughtful people who donated to Lisa’s crowdfunding account, providing her with a comfortable living for her last few months. The leftover funds are all being used to pay it forward in the donors’ names, which is why we will spend part of our day at the hospital tomorrow. I love that Bliss cares about other people outside her immediate circle. When she mentioned donating the rest of the money, I was floored. No girl I’ve ever dated had thought about anyone but themselves.

  The condo feels like home to me more than any other place I have lived. I think it’s because I now share it with Bliss, who is my heart’s home. She’s put her mark on the place, and even though I like things tidy and minimal, I don’t mind her shoes by the door, or her bag on the island in the kitchen. It just shows me she’s made herself at home in my life, and that’s the way I want it to stay.

  I take Bliss into the bedroom, which now features bits and pieces of her girlish charm to offset the masculine decor. A black and white picture of her mom rests on the nightstand beside a photo of Bliss and me at the winery. She has a book lying open on the pink velvet chaise lounge with the fuzzy blanket she curls in like a cat. I surprised her with the chair after she told him she wished she could read while looking out the window at the Bay Bridge. I want her to have anything she wants, but man she killed me with the look of disbelief when I had that girly thing delivered. I felt like Superman with how she threw herself into my arms and broke out into happy squeals.

  I don’t want to just let her go to sleep with the antiseptic smell of a deathbed clinging to her, so I take her into the bathroom for a shower. I love showering with her. She usually takes pleasure in soaping me up, but tonight, I want to take care of her. I crank the water on before I undress her carefully. My clothes are shucked quickly so she doesn’t have to stand around in the cold. I pull open the door and allow steam to billow out around us before I adjust the water and bring her inside with me. I back her into the spray and hold her to my chest.

  Bliss’s tears have stopped their incessant flow, but she remains unresponsive and sluggish. I was hoping the hot water rushing down her back and over her shoulders would help. I let her go and grab her purple bottle of shampoo. I wash her hair, now free of any pink.

  I loved the color; it’s one of the first things that I noticed, and something I always enjoyed. When I asked her if she would keep it up, she said she felt like she’s entered a new stage of life that it doesn’t quite fit in. She could shave her head and I would still think she was the hottest woman I’ve ever seen.

  I massage conditioner through her hair, knowing she likes it when I do that. Any excuse to touch Bliss is a good one, but if I can be productive as well? Count me in. I would never let anyone know it, but I like brushing her hair for her, too. Not a very manly admission to make, but whatever—she rocks my fucking world. I place my hands on her cheeks, bringing her haunted and bloodshot eyes to mine. God, she’s beautiful, even when she’s sad.

  I kiss her slowly, letting her supple lips take their time to respond. I like our sweet moments as much as our hardcore fucking. Everything has a place and time. Right now, she needs soft and delicate, just like her. As I kiss her, her body begins to respond. Her little pink nipples are hard as rocks against my chest, and her hands have made their way around my neck to twine in my hair.

  I wait for Bliss to let me know when she’s ready for more, which comes in the form of her knee lifting to my hip. She wants this as much as I do. We need the closeness and intimacy of sex to help rid us of the sadness. With a small adjustment, I pick her up and sandwich her to the wall, pushing into her tight, wet heat slowly. I want to fill not only her body, but also her heart with pieces of myself.

  Her soft sounds of pleasure and the tight grip she has on me are enough, but I’m a greedy fucker
and I want her coming like a freight train on my cock. I once promised her all the orgasms, and damn if I won’t make good on it. Besides, her O face is so fucking hot; all mouth open and eyes shut tight as she moans. I could come just thinking about it.

  Instead, I have to think about anything other than her bouncing tits and the way she licks her lips right before she braces for the impact of her release. Fuck. Now that’s exactly what I’m thinking. Okay, la la la, school buses and lunch meat and shark week. Better. She kisses my face, licks my neck, and returns to my lips again as I move in and out of her slick pussy.

  “Oh god, Talan, fuck me,” she asks, already headed for her release.

  I lift her knees over my arms, dropping her ass down a bit and fuck her like it’s my job. Bliss’s fingers pulse at my neck, gripping me in time with her clenching core. She’s close. Her eyes screw up tight as her mouth opens in a breathless pant. There it is, baby, let it take you. I keep my eyes open to watch her fall apart, loving how she gasps my name and tumbles into ecstasy.

  Watching her get off is all I need to let go with her. Her silky, clenching pussy milks me, forcing my own muffled moans to match hers and echo through the steamy shower. My head rests against the wall beside hers, our breaths loud and our grip on each other fierce. I set her on her feet and hold her steady, kissing the side of her face in reverence. The awesome feeling of losing myself in Bliss never gets old.

  This time, we are coping with our loss the best way we know how—loving each other as well physically as we do emotionally.

  After our shower, I toss one of my t-shirts over Bliss’s head, loving the sexy way it hits her mid-thigh and gives me a peek at her goodies when she climbs into our bed.

  She rolls to her side and stares at the picture of her mom, taken in profile as she laughed. I had snapped it when she wasn’t looking, capturing a moment of her joy and happiness for Bliss. Tonight the photo is equal parts happiness and sorrow. Bliss turns over into my arms. Her damp hair spread on her pillow will be a hassle for her to tame tomorrow, but is the furthest concern for her now.

  She’s sleepy, her eyes showing her exhaustion and her relaxation from our shower.

  “My Bliss,” I sigh, watching her light colored lashes lower.

  “Yes, yours, and you are mine,” she tells me softly, snuggling tightly into the space between my neck and shoulder, where she fits so perfectly. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as I breathe in her clean, warm scent.

  Even in her sadness, I hope this is exactly where she needs to be. I want to be her home and her shot at happiness. She is for me. She’s my very own bliss.

  The end.

  TO MY READERS

  Thank you so much for reading A Taste of Bliss. I would love to hear what you thought of my debut novel and hope you’ll consider leaving a review where you purchased this novel and on Goodreads. If you enjoyed A Taste of Bliss, look for Griffin’s story, coming summer 2015! I’ve included a sneak peek just for you. Keep flipping!

  Drift Heat

  When the modeling gig she’s been waiting for presents itself on a silver platter, Shelby Jensen doesn’t hesitate, she goes for it. Putting herself at odds with her overprotective father and abandoning her job with the family car shop seems like a small price to pay for such a rare opportunity. She sees the potential Smoke and Mirrors has to make it big in the American Drift League and knows that her face, as well a lifetime of car experience, will serve them well. It’s also her first chance to make a name for herself without being in the shadow of her famous racer father. Everything seems set to be an easy and advantageous partnership with the race team. Until she meets him.

  Griffin McGregor is the bad-boy star driver for Smoke and Mirrors and dead set on being the face of the team. He’s not about to let some blonde bimbo with no race experience force him out of the limelight. He’s already on thin ice with the team, as his past behavior on and off the track is a huge problem when it comes to gaining much-needed sponsorships. Within days, Shelby is seen as the team’s salvation, much to Griffin's irritation. Yet even with their bitter rivalry, he just can’t fight his attraction to her.

  Griffin and Shelby come to blows over every publicity event and promo video they work on. They can barely play nice for the sake of the team while sparks of another nature are flying whenever they get too close. The tension is fierce, and it’s forcing them together in unexpected ways. One night acting on their simmering passion leads to an explosive connection that neither can deny. The lines begin to blur between their tense professional relationship, and the one that is budding behind closed doors. Can they make their professional lives work to hold the team together, or will their passion spill over, burning and tearing the team apart for good?

  As the California Circuit comes to a close, opportunities are presented that seem too good to pass up. Will Shelby choose the team that has given her a place where her opinion counts as much as her pretty face, or once again leave for something that seems better? Will Griffin finally fight for the one thing that means even more to him than drifting, or let her go for good?

  Drift Heat is a stand-alone novel. This New Adult romance is recommended for readers 18+ due to mature content.

  Excerpt of Drift Heat by Adrian R. Hale

  This excerpt will be edited and may change before publication.

  Chapter One

  “Arch your back more, and put your hand on your ass. Now put your heel up on the tire.”

  I awkwardly shuffle my position to do as the photographer is asking. I balance my foot in a five inch stiletto on the tire, hoping my barely there bikini bottoms stay in place so I don’t flash my goodies to the small crew gathered around. He better make me look awesome because this crap is hard to do. When he puts his camera back up to his face, I assume I hit the mark he wanted and give him some faces and angles to work with. He snaps a few shots before directing me to a new position.

  “Okay, now lay back on the hood of the car, let’s see how that looks.”

  This guy is so not Finch Keaton, my favorite photographer. Finch is a way better director, and the main reason I have found modeling so enjoyable. This guy, Ollie Cathers, is a totally different experience. He’s not difficult, just a little spastic and unable to articulate the poses he would like to capture. We have been working on this shoot for three hours, and he’s still not satisfied. I’m told he is much better with the action shots of the team drivers drifting on the track. There’s a clear difference between promo photography and that of catching a car in a slide around a turn on a race track. Still, this is what I am being paid for, so I stifle my irritation and do as he directs.

  I drop my foot from the tire and scoot my ass up onto the hood from where I was leaning against the beautiful Toyota Supra. Once I have my weight balanced, I carefully lean back, fluffing my hair out past me and pick my feet up to gingerly rest along the edge of the hood. The last thing I want to do is scratch the paint or dent anything. I love cars, so hurting one would be sacrilege. I arch my back and stretch my arms up above my head to rest on the cool carbon fiber. I make a mental note that the sun has started to set, so we don’t have much time left to shoot with natural light. Ollie has a bunch of lights set up, but he will have to change the settings if it goes completely dark. Good, maybe this can be over soon.

  I will myself to give him what he’s looking for so this can wrap. It’s early April, and even in Southern California, it’s a bit cold out. Or nipply, as it is with me in a tight cut up t-shirt with the Smoke and Mirrors logo stretched across my chest and tied under my boobs. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and smile with my eyes, or smize, as hard as I can.

  “Yeah, just like that. Now really push your rib cage up and rotate your shoulders toward me.”

  I strain my chest forward, feeling as if my spine will snap, and angle my shoulders. This better be right. Ollie starts shooting, so I guess it’s close. I move my arms around, pulling my hair down my face and running my fingers across my lips, thinking sexy t
houghts. Because this shoot is all about sex. And cars. And being sexy on cars. I stretch my legs up above me, getting a crazy core workout as I balance on my tailbone and shoulders while still trying to look sultry. All in the name of promo modeling.

  “Okay, great, that’s awesome. Now roll over onto your knees.”

  I will kill you, Ollie, if you just want to see my ass in the air. Sighing, I do as instructed, careful of the paint and decals as I turn over. I arch my back and stretch my arms and legs out to look like I’m crawling across the car. Poor thing, I know it’s not awesome to put so much weight on the hood like this. I let my feelings of anger and frustration show in my face, giving Ollie something fierce to work with, even if it’s directed at him and his stupid requests.

  “Yeah Shelby, that’s exactly what I want to see,” he calls out excitedly as his camera clicks and the lights flash.

  Well hell, if that’s what he wanted all along I would have given him my resting bitch face at the beginning of the shoot and saved us all some time.

  I stretch out onto my stomach, propping my head in my hand and think of long, lean lines while giving him my best sexy death stare. It’s not to be confused with my fuck off death stare. This one is more come hither and less get lost.

  “Get that bitch the fuck off my car!” A loud voice booms just off set.

  I startle, my mouth opening in surprise as a very angry dude comes bursting out of the garage and strides toward our makeshift photo shoot set up in the back parking lot of the Smoke and Mirrors race shop. Ollie turns, his hands out in a placating manner as Paul joins him for backup. They both head off to meet the guy who is on a mission to drag me forcibly from his car. He barrels past them without hesitation, headed straight toward me.