Page 48 of One Wild Ride

I loved color and texture. Tone and movement. My eye was attracted to line and contrast. I looked for that in every painting and I couldn’t help but notice it on Aria.

But she was no painting. She wasn’t even a masterpiece. Aria was real and something no painter, no matter how talented, could ever capture the extent of her beauty.

“You are more beautiful than air.”

“Air? You can’t see air, Alex.” Aria laughed but there was hesitation behind her eyes.

Her arm lifted to cover herself and without thought, I stopped her. “No, but I can feel it. It feeds me. Without it I couldn’t live.”

“Oh, well, when you put it that way. It’s not bad.” She lifted her hand, drifting her fingers across my arm. “Now it’s my turn,” Aria said as she lifted her deep brown eyes to mine.

My heart picked up in my chest and I wondered if she could hear it. I both feared and desired what she wanted. For three years, I imagined her telling me how she wanted me to fuck her. And then I would imagine doing it.

But now that the time had come for her to answer that question, I was afraid of what the answer might be.

“Aria, what do you want?”

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