“On top of the world, darlin’.”
I’m not lying, it feels as if we are because the canyon that dips below us is seemingly endless. There’s a flat rock overhanging the view, and I guide her to the edge, making sure to retain my grip on her, keeping her safe.
We sit on the edge, our legs dangling to the cavern below, and it’s as if we are dancing with the angels in the heavens. One false move and we would crash and burn, which feeds the devil in me.
I’m impressed that Delilah isn’t scared. She appears almost fearless in this moment as we gaze out at paradise. The red mountains gleaming in the sunshine. The sun is hot, a ball of fire heating our skin.
Her head falls to my shoulder, her soft hair tickling my chin, and I tighten my hold.
“Tell me about yourself, Blade.”
A simple enough question that probably deserves an answer, but I’m a reluctant storyteller.
“Nothing to tell.”
My reply should shut down the conversation, but she won’t let it go.
“Is Blade your real name? I kind of think it’s something like Chad or Buck.”
Her soft giggle raises a smile to my lips.
“It’s a closely guarded secret, and men have died in their quest for it.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.”
She giggles. “I bet it’s Eugene.”
“Not even close.”
“Then tell me.”
She lifts her head and peers at me with a questioning gaze, and I can’t look away. It would be so easy to kiss her right now. She is mere centimeters from my lips and, as if she can read my mind, she whispers, “I want to kiss you so badly, but I don’t want to kiss a stranger.”
Despite her request, my lips tug into a smile, and the lust in her eyes tells me she’s feeling this too.
“It’s not Eugene.”
She shakes her head.
“Not good enough.”
She leans a little closer, the scent of flowers almost overwhelming, and her lips dance before my hungry eyes like the greatest prize.
“James.”
I’m amazed I gave it up so easily, and she raises her eyes. “James?”
“My mom loved traditional names. You can see why my name changed.”
“Blade suits you better.”
She inches a little closer, and I’m shocked when she trails a finger down my face and presses in, her breath dusting mine as she whispers, “Can I kiss you, James?”
Why does it ache so hard inside me as a woman like Delilah calls me by my real name? To my knowledge, nobody has for many years, and it affects me more than I thought it would.
“You don’t have to, darlin’.”
I’m almost positive she is only doing this because she thinks she should. She’s hurting and I would be taking advantage of that.
