At first I think Ella’s lifting her hand to touch her throat again, my body tense and waiting still. But then her fingertips hover over her lips.
My reaction is instant. I take out my phone and study the screen. “I need to step outside for a moment.” I speak over Kelly, effectively halting the conversation, saying it with a smile, and Trish and Kelly both smile back. “Ella, would you come with me?” I don’t dare glance at the other women, although their objections come with a short gasp from one of the two of them. She nods gratefully, not speaking, and I pull out her chair for her to stand. In her silence, I promise the women, “I’ll bring her back in a few minutes.”
“You’d better,” scolds Trish. It’s not lost on me that the two don’t speak while we leave. Which is certainly an indication that they will the moment we’re off.
With a hand on Ella’s lower back, I escort her out of the restaurant. Silently we descend the stairs, although her pace is quicker than my own. She turns immediately to the right and heads through a small alley that lets out to a riverwalk. The river in autumn reflects the colors of the trees, and Ella walks without hesitation to the railing and leans against it.
I should take my hand off her back.
I don’t.
Ella lifts her head and peeks at me. “I’m not going to jump.”
I think she means it as a joke, but I answer the emotion in her eyes instead of the words. “You’re thinking about that? Is that where your head has gone?”
She shakes her head. “No. But I was worried yours might be there.”
I assure her, “It’s not. And you would fail miserably if you attempted to jump while I was here.”
She huffs a small laugh with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes as she gazes over the still waters.
“I just needed some fresh air.” She touches the front of her chest, and I know. I know that feeling. Someone says a name you’re not expecting and you have a small heart attack. Hurts like the muscle itself has been bruised. I know it so well.
I hate this moment. This grief that she’s coping with. But to deal with it in such a healthy way, I admire her. “I am proud of you,” I tell her and she peers up at me.
“I couldn’t even last a brunch, and you’re proud.”
“How is this not lasting?” I ask her, pushing back.
“Would you hold me, then? I deserve a reward, don’t I?” Her pleas are voiced in a teasing manner,her wide eyes still glinting with vulnerability.
My intention is to pull her in for a hug. But as I reach for her, something else takes over. I don’t put my hands on her shoulders. I reach for her face, take her chin in my hand, and pull her to me.
And kiss her.
Right there on the riverwalk.
Ella’s lips part for me and she makes a little noise into my mouth, a contented sigh. Fuck, she tastes good. Sweet and delectable. I run my tongue along the seam of her lips and she lets me in. It’s so easy, and so right, like she was made for me. Like my whole life was dragging me here by the hand.
Boundaries be damned.
My little bird presses close to me, her body warm against mine, and I find both hands in her hair, both hands pulling her in. I don’t want her far from me. I don’t want her anywhere out of my sight. I want this forever.
And if I’m honest, which I haven’t been—not with Cade, not with Damon, not with myself—I want her so badly it hurts. Kissing her shoves the truth out into broad daylight. Punishing her will never be enough. Making her come will never be enough. A quick, hard fuck would do nothing to kill this craving. With her, it wouldn’t stop until I’d had my fill. Until I’d tasted each of her boundaries and all her sadness and let her see mine as well. Let her tear them all down.
Ella kisses me back, harder than before, and then she comes up for air. It tastes sweet and crisp, like this autumn breeze. But nothing is as sweet as her arms around my neck. She leans back into my hands, trusting me to hold her up.
“Z,” she whispers.
“Little bird.”
I untangle her arms from my neck, but it’s the last thing I want to do. Reality is setting in. We’re out behind the brunch restaurant, where anyone could see. I’ve lost track of time. I have no idea how long I tasted her. How long I lost myself in her mouth and her touch.
“Are you ready?” I question her. I’ll be right there beside her with whatever excuse or escape she needs when we return to that table.
“I want to use the restroom before we go back.”
“Go ahead,” I tell her. “I’ll wait for you by the stairs.”