Page 71 of Audiophile

I argue, but he distracts me. His lips move over me, his hands working me up to a frenzy. He uses his voice just as well as his body. His rough demands fill me with heat, joy, and a fierce ache that he drums into me with each word. His fingers wrap around my neck and squeeze lightly, until I’m dizzy with it.

I dissolve, right there on the bluffs, under his attention. It’s only when I’ve come back from bliss that he zips up my coat, kissing me again. He shifts to lean against the rock beside me, and pulls the sandwiches out of his backpack, as though a midday orgasm is a perfectly normal occurrence. “Last day, Pet. Tell me everything.”

“I can’t fit everything into a couple of hours.” Especially when I’m still dazed.

“Tell me about the sister I didn’t meet. Or your grandparents. Or what you would do if you won the lottery.”

I laugh as I unwrap my sandwich, heart aching for the man beside me. The afternoon sun is bright in his cheeks, and he’s completely at ease. The crash of waves is the perfect white noise for us, blocking out the world—the way Reed does when he touches me. “I want to know things, too. About Grant, and your mom, and the screenplays you’ve written.”

Reed grins at me. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, Petronia Diamante. You first.”

“Well, Silla and I are the closest, believe it or not. She was a prankster growing up, and we all called her Silly Silla. When she came out in high school, it only made our bond stronger.”

We talk as the sun moves across the sky, then pack up and walk down the shoreline. Miraculously, the fog doesn’t roll in, and Reed wraps his arms around me as the sky shifts into the colors of the bouquet Reed first gave me. It deepens into a brilliant orange and flares crimson.

One perfect moment I’ll remember forever.

Chapter twenty-seven

Reed

As the sun dipsbelow the horizon, the wind picks up, clear and cold. Petra shivers beneath her heavy jacket. “I don’t want you to freeze,” I say. I lace our fingers together, keeping her hand warm as we walk to the car.

It’s a long trek to Portland, so I offer to drive. I crank up the heat until she strips off her coat and blouse, revealing a thin camisole that clings to her and is both distracting and delectable. She takes over the radio, and her taste is all over the place. Eighties music, nineties, rock, pop, metal, folk, hip-hop. There’s no rhyme or reason to why she loves the songs she does.

We drive through the city, her unblinking eyes soaking it all in, and park on a side street. “What are we doing now?”

“Bringing LA to you. C’mon.” I wait until she’s bundled up again and lead her from the car, tucking her tight to my side to ward off the cold until we get to a group of food carts.

“Street food? I love street food!” Her eyes are big, beautiful, and happy. We try everything, sharing basket after basket of cuisine from different parts of the world. She doesn’t seem to notice the cold, and she does a happy wiggle after each bite. “This is the best date I’ve ever been on. Not that, I didn’t mean it was adate.”

“Darling Petra, it’s a date. Does it beat The Riverfront?”

Petra shrugs. “That was beautiful, Reed, but I don’t need fancy very often. This kind of experience, though? It’s my favorite.”

I steal the bite out of her hand to keep irrational words from jumping out of my mouth. She laughs and pushes me away, but then offers me the next bite as well. Once we’ve tasted everything,we drive across town and park in the garage of a tall building. Petra shoots me a look as I gather our bags and walk through an opulent lobby filled with glass doors and glittering chandeliers.

“This is one of those really fancy things,” Petra mutters as we step into the elevator. I laugh, and she smacks my shoulder. When we step out into the hallway, I locate our door and punch the code into the keypad.

“I’ll note the frequency, then. Welcome to our home for the night.”

Petra steps through the door as if there’s a monster lurking inside. The whole apartment is white and wood—modern and sleek, but warm. She carefully winds around the furniture in the living room, headed straight for the floor to ceiling windows.

“Wow.” The view is stunning, with two bridges crossing the water and the lights of the city spread out below us. She tears her gaze away from the view. “You did this for me?”

I shrug. “It’s not where you want to be, but it’s still a taste of big city life.”

“I was in a rundown one bedroom apartment in a not-great complex. This is amazing,tesoro, but I would be happy with you anywhere. Is it a full apartment?”

“Two-bedroom. Want to go pick out your favorite?”

“Whichever has this view,” she admits. She heads for the bedrooms while I hang up her jacket. I find her in one of them, sitting on a chaise in front of the window. I sink down beside her and she leans into me with a happy sigh. “I don’t want to know how much this cost for the night.”

“Does it matter? It’s research for me, too. I might want to live in a place like this in the future.” I’m free here, not only with Petra, but away from the hustle of LA. The green, the rivers, the clouds. All of it breathes new life into me, the way she does.

“You’d want to live in an apartment in Portland?” she asks.

I avoid her gaze, trying not to consider her as part of the deal. “I love the community here. This view is spectacular, but I’d prefer a house.”

---