Page 131 of Lost & Found

No one had ever commented on my feet before. It was unexpected, and a part of me liked that he was so enthralled by them.

“It’s in the arch,” he crooned. “The way it feels in my hand. And then your toes are perfectly symmetrical.”

He traced the tops of them, starting from the big toe over. “It’s cute the way your little pinkie toe curves like it wants to hug the one next to it.” His eyes flicked up to mine, and a grin flickered across his face.

“Simply put, you don’t have dancer feet and they’re incredibly soft. And don’t get me started on your ankles.” He wrapped his entire hand around it and then moved his fingers. “Tiny and so fucking elegant,” he said as his eyes moved up my leg, my body, and then my face.

His praise of something as silly as my feet left me speechless. Not one for compliments, I wasn’t sure exactly how to take it other than at face value. He pulled my foot toward his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the top before making his way to my ankle.

I shuddered and let out a loud breath as he once more kissed it. He took the shoe and placed it on my foot, before teasing the zipper up the back. After completing the same ritual with the left foot, he stood.

“You look gorgeous, sexy, and entirely too tempting. But you know that, don’t you? I think you and the girls back home are conspiring to get me killed. Tell me, Isabella, what have I done to make you wish to see me suffer?”

“I’m not…we’re not conspiring. I’d never want to see you suffer. That’s why I did this,” I said, feeling confused and unsure of myself.

Pasha looked around the room, taking in how I had set things in motion. I’d repositioned the table closer to the fireplace. The patio door was once more open, letting in the light breeze from the ocean.

Soft music played from the Bluetooth speaker I’d brought. I hated the feeling, the uncertainty that settled inside my stomach, and I burned with embarrassment.

“You looked so sad earlier. I wanted to do something unexpected. If you hate—”

He placed his finger on my lips. “Please, don’t. I was teasing. This is very sweet, and I love that you want to cheer me up.”

“It was really awful what Chase and Hannah did.”

He nodded, his jaw clenched, and I hated myself for bringing it up. A knock sounded. Dinner. I shimmied around him and tried to calm my nerves as I headed to get the food. When I called down, I told them it was for a romantic dinner, and they insisted on champagne and a vase of roses.

The man wheeled the cart inside and then left quietly. I set the table while Pasha watched with hooded eyes. As I finished, I turned my back to him to gather my emotions. My hands shook as I smoothed down my dress. I felt his presence behind me before the heat of his body pressed near mine. His hand snaked around my waist.

“Would you do me the honor of pretending for one more night to be my girlfriend? I’m devastated that we didn’t get to dance together. All that hard work,” he murmured against my neck.

My heart ached at the sadness I could so plainly hear. I turned. “We could dance now if you’d like.” I held my hand out to him, praying he’d take it and not leave me feeling this anxiety alone.

Soft strains of the beginning chords of Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” filled the air. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine as he clasped my hand in his. His eyes reflected the flickering firelight, and I couldn’t help but be drawn to him.

In his gaze, there was longing and a stark vulnerability. Did he know his expression betrayed the turmoil of emotions swirling within him? Was he seeing the mirror-image in mine?

A rush of warmth flooded my senses. The touch of his skin against mine jolted me. Our eyes met, and in that moment, there were only the two of us. The rest of the world faded away. All that had happened felt insignificant as we moved together in perfect harmony.

I was proud that I remembered the steps and that each one I took to follow him was like a silent conversation between us. His eyes never left mine, and the intensity made me want to look away, but I forced myself not to.

To not allow myself to run from the way he made me feel. It was as if he was staring deep into my soul, committing this to his memory as I was. I wasn’t alone, not with him. In the flickering firelight, the faintest hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips shone. Steven Tyler continued to croon about staying in the moment forever.

He leaned in close, his breath warm against my ear. “I want to kiss you, Isabella. But I’m afraid if I do, I won’t be able to stop.”

He moved his lips across my cheek, and my entire body went haywire. My pulse felt rapid and uneven while my stomach decided butterflies and eagles would not cut it, so cue the free-falling sensation of the roller coaster ride all over again.

Soft and sweet, he kissed me. Our bodies swayed still. Then he teased my bottom lip by pulling it between his teeth, and a volcanic fire erupted inside me. I moaned, surrendering to him. I couldn’t wait another minute.

I needed to taste him on my tongue. Lifting, I thrust my fingers roughly through his hair, hoping he would get the hint. All I got was another teasing lick of his tongue across my lower lip as he pulled back.

Without warning, a strangled groan erupted from his throat.

“Fuck,” he huffed.

And then finally his tongue slid into my mouth. I met him head on, each of us forgetting our promise as our lips and tongues clashed. The world narrowed to warmth and breath. His hands cupped my face as he tilted my head back.

The kiss deepened, and I melted into the hard lines of his body. Tiny sparks of pleasure shot through me from the top of my head to my clit.