“Anywhere.”
“Okay, I think this started all wrong.” He takes both my hands in his and looks straight at me. “I love it. You’re incredibly talented.”
I try to wave off the compliment.
“I’m completely serious, Jasalie. You really should do something with this gift of yours.”
“I’d like to. But the few galleries I tried rejected whatever I showed them, so I’m not sure where to go from there.”
“Ignore them, and keep trying. You can definitely sell your work.”
“How do you know? You’ve seen one thing.”
“This one thing is damn good.”
He leans in and kisses me hard and long, taking my breath away. When he shifts back, he whispers, “What you did—sculpting this—is sexy as anything.”
“I wanted to show you because when I sculpt,” I say. “I’m not going for perfection. I’m looking for the essence, whether it’s a person, an event, whatever it is.”
Dylan looks at me. “What’s mine?”
I touch his cheek. “Your essence is the passion of love.”
He pulls me into his chest.
I wrap my arms around his neck and straddle him. He’s not expecting that, and I knock him off-balance. We fall off the bed and onto the ground with him cradling me so that he takes the full brunt of the fall.
“Sorry,” I mutter into his neck. “Not really what I planned on.”
Then again, nothing is so far today.
“I think we can make this turn out all right,” he says as he grabs my ass. “Don’t you?”
I start kissing his chest. “I think so, yes.”
* * *
Dylan
She sculpted me.
That has to mean something important. I know how much sculpting means to Jasalie, so if she decided I was worth taking the time and energy and clay, then she must care more than she will admit. She’s the most guarded woman I’ve ever met, and even after all this intense time together the last few days, I feel like I’m just scratching the surface. So, yeah—I don’t know exactly where I stand with her.
And my decision to tell her about what happened five years ago…God, I wasn’t planning to do that. Ever.
But I needed to.
Because it wasn’t fair to Jasalie to keep it from her. She has the right to know just how toxic my world can be. In some ways, it’s worse for the partner—they have to hear all the gossip and all the attacks, but they don’t have an outlet on Sundays to release their anger. I can go out and pour my frustrations into the game, ignoring everything else. Your partner is the one listening to the TV announcers or the fans in the stands, and I know how critical those voices can be.
This is the first time I’ve truly thought of us in any real sense past this hotel. Being here has been like a suspension of reality, and I’ve enjoyed every fucking minute of Jasalie and me alone in a bubble.
It’s made every moment we spend together all the more intense, and if I’m honest, all the more erotic. Her mysteriousness turns me on like I wouldn’t have believed, and I want her so much I get hard just hearing her voice.
But telling her I loved her was not in my plans today. I didn’t know when—or if—I’d do that. Hell, I’m not even sure what I’m going to do when our time in Arizona is up tomorrow morning.
Right now, in this room, all I want is to make love to Jasalie. Over and over again.
I run my hands underneath the hem of her shirt until I reach her soft, warm skin. Jasalie moans as I move one hand up to her bra strap and the other down inside the band of her jeans.
