Page 90 of Jagged Line Paradise

“Easy choice,” I say. “The green one.”

She nods, pulls the green dress quickly off the hanger, and rushes off to the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind her.

I let out a breath, shoving my hands into my pockets. My heart is pounding. I’m afraid of how telling her story might hurt her if I don’t carefully control the environment. I’m afraid of how hearing the details of what happened to her coming straight from her mouth will break me.

I don’t know what she’s planning to share today, just that she wants to tell her story and start the healing process. I know what happened to the victims before her, from media and coroner’s reports and the few details that had come out during the trial. I’ve read the graphic details of what was presumed to have happened to the deceased victims because I just had to know. But reading a list of injuries is far less daunting than hearing the true story of how they were inflicted, as told from my best friend and the woman I love.

My anxiety appears in the form of aggravation as I impatiently wait for Avalon. I can feel her trepidation pulsing through the closed door. I march over to it and tap with my knuckles.

“Are you dressed?”

“Yeah,” she says softly from the other side. “I just…give me a minute.”

Impulsively, I grab the handle and huff out a breath of relief that it’s not locked. I push my way inside. She turns to see me barreling through, and she jumps, taking a step backward.

Her hand lands over her heart as she takes in a calming breath. “I just need a minute.”

I close the door behind me and press my back against it. I’m distracted by the sight of her. Her make-up highlights her best features—her wide mouth and plump lips, her perfect olive-green eyes. The green dress was the right choice—it’s the same color as her eyes. It makes her look like a green goddess with her fiery hair tumbling over her shoulders, like fire and earth.

She notices me studying her and her face twists in apprehension as she looks down at the dress, brushing her hands over the skirt. “I know. It’s not something I’d usually wear and it’s a little snug. But does it look okay?” She lifts her head and tosses half her gorgeous ginger-orange hair back over her shoulder.

The contrast of orange and green is just fucking stunning. I push off the door and take a step toward her. “Lonnie, I would think you look hot in a garbage bag.”

She smiles a little and it makes me grin.

“But this is no garbage bag look.” I reach out to cup her cheek in my palm, intending it to be a gentle, comforting touch. I just can’t be in a room with her without wanting her, especially when her heart calls to mine so insistently in these minutes where she prepares to reveal her trauma to the world. My hand slips, scooping her into my grip around the back of her neck, and I drag her forcefully toward me. Her curves arch against my chest and she gasps as I drop my forehead to hers. “You’re more beautiful than any of the hundreds of sunsets we’ve watched together.”

My eyes drop to her lips as she swallows, her head pulling back against my hand, though her body curls forward, molding to mine. Her tongue slips out to wet her lips and the look in her eyes tugs desire through me.

She whispers as she leans into me, “If you kiss me, you’ll ruin my make-up.”

“Well, we don’t want that, do we?”

I hold her stare with mine and keep her there with me, refusing to let her look away, leave me, fall back into her anxiety alone when she can share my passion instead. The heat that grows dissolves us, our bodies sinking together as we stand and stare.

I make my breaths deeper, fuller, more obvious with the slow rise and fall of my chest. It only takes moments until she’s naturally matching me, breath for breath. It’s what I wanted, for her to breathe with me. It’s why I came in here. Though, I didn’t plan to make it so fucking erotic.

Every moment I spend with her is sexually charged, even the bad moments. Especially the bad moments, though I don’t mean them to be that way. I don’twantit to be that way. I don’t want to find pleasure in her pain, yet somehow, I do.

I step forward and she moves with me until her back is against the wall behind her. She lets a small breath puff from her lips when I press tightly to her, every inch of me touching every inch of her.

“Andrés.”

I groan, inadvertently shifting my hips against her. “Don’t say my name like that, sunshine. I’m not trying to get hard before we do this.”

Fuck, who amI kidding? I’m already at half-mast.

“How do you...” She blinks her eyes shut for the briefest of moments, running her tongue along her bottom lip as she opens them again. “One touch from you switches me on and makes me forget everything else.”

I blink, stunned silent from the look of love in her eyes. It’s love I don’t deserve that she has for me, love I don’t feel that I’ve earned. Still, it brightens my soul. I wish I could take her to bed right now and love her the way she deserves to be loved.

Lonnie sighs and slips her arms around my waist, delicately pressing her cheek to my chest and holding me like she needs me. “Thank you,” she says softly.

I throw my arms around her, melting into her love. “Do you need a minute alone?”

She pulls back and glances down between us with a coy smile. “Doyou? You seem a little happy to see me.”

This woman.

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