Her laughter is music. Especially this laugh, so different from the one I heard down at the bar with all its sorrow and sharp edges. This laugh is light and bright and peels another hard layer off my heart.
By the time this night is over, she’ll have stripped it bare.
Beaming up at me, she throws her arms around my shoulders. “You give me hope for manity.”
“What the hell is manity?”
“The male part of humanity.”
“So you mean men.”
She furrows her brows. “I have no idea what I’m saying. You just tossed my salad so well, I’m making up words.”
I drop my head, bury my face in her hair, and dissolve into helpless laughter.
“Aha!” she cries. “I knew you were a big softie under all those dark thunderclouds!”
I try to stop laughing so I can scowl at her and prove her wrong, but I can’t. Somehow, she found the bolted door where I keep all my vulnerable things locked behind and kicked it right off its hinges.
Nipping my earlobe, she says warmly, “You have the most beautiful laugh. I’m glad I got to hear it.”
The breath I draw into my lungs burns as if the air itself is on fire. Choked by emotion, I have to keep my face hidden in her hair because I’m afraid of what she might see.
When I’ve gotten myself under control, I say seriously, “Thank you. I’d say something nice about your laugh too except that it sounds like a farm animal getting a tooth pulled.”
She slaps my back. “Hey!”
“Too harsh? I’m sorry. It’s just that I heard this injured donkey braying one time—”
“You did not!”
“—and it was eerily loud and screechy—”
“Cole! You dick!”
“—like it was dying or something, like in serious agony—”
“Okay, that’s it! No more nookie for you!”
She tries to roll out from under me but is unsuccessful. I grab her wrists and pin her to the mattress, grinning down at her as she struggles to get free.
“You’re adorable when you’re angry.”
She stops struggling and glares at me. “Oh yeah? As adorable as a dying donkey?”
I pretend to think. “Well, not that adorable. Maybe more like one of those hairless Chihuahuas? You know, how it’s ugly but also sorta cute in its own scary, repulsive way?”
Fuming, she mutters, “I’ll show you scary and repulsive. Put your dick near my mouth again, cowboy, and watch as I turn it into something that looks like a pit bull’s favorite chew toy.”
I’m setting a personal record for laughs in one month. Hell, one year.
Maybe a whole decade.
To stop her from hurling more threats, I kiss her long and deep. She responds as she always does, melting into me with a little sigh the instant our lips meet, giving herself over to me completely.
I want to fuck her again. But she needs food, so that’s the priority.
Bracing my weight on my hands, I push up and slowly withdraw from her body. She groans a little, her eyelids fluttering. Then she heaves a big sigh and flings her arms out to either side on the mattress as I rise and stand at the side of the bed.
I peel off the condom and throw it in the trash can by the night stand. “I’ll call for room service. What do you want?”
She answers without hesitation. “Steak. Medium-rare. A big one. Baked potato with all the toppings. Something chocolate for dessert.”
“Anything green? Salad, veggies?”
“Blech. Green things are for rabbits. Do I look like a rabbit to you? No, don’t answer that. I already know you think I look like a hairless Chihuahua because you’re gifted with such a poetic way with words.”
We smile at each other.
In another life, I would love this woman. I’d love her so much, I’d burn down the whole world just to spend an afternoon by her side.
I turn away, a band of tightness squeezing my chest.
As I call for room service, I know she’s watching me. Even though my back is turned, I can feel those beautiful eyes. By the time I hang up, she’s sitting upright with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her legs, wriggling her toes impatiently.
“What’s that look?”
“This is my inquisitive look.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I want to ask you lots of questions because you’re very interesting, but I know this is a one-night thing, so I don’t want to make it weird.”
Smiling, I stretch out on the mattress beside her and prop myself up on an elbow. “I think we blew past weird when you got weepy.”
“Oh yeah.” She brightens. “So it’s okay if I ask you stuff?”
Thinking of the graveyard of bones I’ve got hidden in my proverbial closet, I hesitate.
She studies me. “That’s a no.”
I say gently, “I want you to leave this room with only good memories. If we start talking about me…”
She stretches out beside me, mirroring my posture and gazing into my eyes. “You’re worried I won’t like you anymore?”
“Oh, I know you wouldn’t like me anymore.”
“That bad, huh?”
“That bad.”
“You could always lie to me.”
I can’t tell if she doesn’t believe me or if she’s just being sweet. I reach out and tuck a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “No,” I say sadly. “I couldn’t.”
We gaze silently into each other’s eyes. She searches my face as if she’s looking for something, but I don’t know what it might be.
Her voice low and soft and her eyes shining, she says, “How about this? Tell me a story. Make one up.”
I frown. “About myself?”
“No, about us. Like if we met in another life, in some normal way people do. If we were introduced through mutual friends, something like that.”
I answer without thinking. “I’d never allow the kind of friends I have to be around you.”
She’s studying me again. More closely now, her gaze sharpening. She repeats her question from moments ago.
“That bad, huh?”
“Yes. They’re that bad.”
“But you’re not.”
“I am.”
“You can’t be. You’re wonderful.”
Only with you. “You ever hear that saying, ‘Birds of a feather flock together?’”
“Yeah?”
“It’s true. My flock is made of predatory night birds with sharp talons and cold hearts.” My voice drops. “And I’m the worst of them.”
She reaches out and traces her fingertip over my lower lip. Her gaze follows her touch. She whispers, “Your heart isn’t cold.”
“Everyone who knows me would say otherwise.”
She meets my eyes then. She meets my eyes and says something that almost destroys me.
“Then everyone who knows you is wrong, Cole. Your heart isn’t cold. It’s warm, and it’s beautiful. You just keep it on ice so nobody can melt it.”
I’m grateful that she scoots closer and presses her face to my chest, because I know I wouldn’t be able to hide from those eyes of hers, those gorgeous green eyes that see straight down to the darkest corners of my black soul. I gather her in my arms and inhale several slow, deep breaths, willing my pulse to stop hammering.
“Once upon a time…” she prompts.
“Right.” After a rough throat clearing, I continue. “Once upon a time, a bird of prey at rest on a tree branch saw a beautiful dove in a clearing far below.”
“This clearing was in a hotel bar, I take it.”
“Who’s telling this story, me or you?”
I feel her smile against my chest, the curve of her cheek pressing against my heart. “You.”
“Then be quiet.”
“You would have made a good dictator.”
When I sigh, she whispers, “Sorry.”
“Where was I?”
“Two birds in a bar. I mean clearing.”
“Yes. So the bird of prey sees the beautiful dove—”
“Wait, you were supposed to be telling a story of how we met as people in another life, not birds in this one.”
“Are you kidding me with this?”
She pounds a fist on my shoulder. “I want my story! Tell it right!”
I’m laughing again, because apparently that’s my new thing.
It’s good we’re only spending one night together. If we started dating, my reputation as a cold-blooded, ruthless bastard would be ruined within a week.
“All right, my stubborn little dove,” I murmur, kissing her temple. “Here’s your story. Once upon a time, the most perfect angel God ever created—”
“Now you’ve got a Biblical theme going?” she interrupts, exasperated. “First it’s birds, then it’s the Bible. I hate to tell you this, but you’re a terrible story teller.”
I roll her to her back and kiss her roughly, only coming up for air when she’s trembling beneath me, sinking her nails into my back and whimpering with need.
“That’s a relief, because I’m done talking. Time to get fucked again, sweetheart.”
“Thank goodness. I was about to fall asleep.”
We grin at each other. Then I reach for another condom, thinking the dozens she has in her handbag won’t be enough.
We fuck. We eat. We fuck again, repeatedly. We talk and laugh until the morning sun creeps through the window shades. When she’s yawning, her lids heavy and her beautiful eyes glazed with fatigue, I tuck her under the bedcovers and hold her until her breathing is deep and even.
Then I lie there struggling with how badly I want to stay until she’s awake again.
I want to know her. Everything about her. All her secrets and fears, all the things that make her who she is. But that would mean she’d have to get to know me too…and that would be a disaster.
I’m the last thing this incredible woman needs in her life.
But because I’m selfish, I stay longer than I should, breathing in her scent, feeling the warmth of her soft body, memorizing the exact color of her hair.
Then I rise and watch her lying peacefully on the bed as I silently dress. At the bedroom door, I turn back for one final, lingering look.
Goodbye, beautiful Shayna. It was my privilege.
Maybe in another life.
My heart aching, I walk out.
