you.”
He didn’t put up any fight at all as she tugged him out of the kitchen and through the beaded curtain. The streetlight from the corner shone through the store’s front windows, glittering off the jewels and crystals scattered around the room.
It was an eerie sight, a magical and otherworldly sensation, surrounded as they were by darkness while vibrant colors flashed and sparked with no reason or rhyme.
Perry had stopped when he’d stopped. She stood now, watching him take in the fairy tale of colors and shapes, squeezing his hand when he shook his head.
“See what happens when you open your mind, Jack? Isn’t it beautiful?”
Her voice was beautiful, and he couldn’t help but turn toward her when she spoke. The room’s kaleidoscope of colors swirled in her eyes, but that didn’t stop him from bursting her bubble. “It’s refracted light, Perry. Not bluebirds flying over a rainbow.”
She smacked his shoulder teasingly with her free hand, leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t you get tired of digging through the barrel for the bad apple?”
He brought her flush to his body. “What I get tired of is people not buying into the truth because they don’t like what they see.”
And the truth right now was that the threat to Della wasn’t the threat on either of their minds.
He saw the mirror of his thoughts in Perry’s eyes, the absolute honesty of this uneasy attraction weighing heavy between them.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her eyes, already large and dark, drank him in. She wet her lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth.
“Jack?”
“Perry?”
“Do you hear it now?”
“Hear what?”
“The truth.”
“Is that what you call it?” he asked, hearing nothing but the rush of blood to his head.
She leaned in, brushed her lips to his. “I can hear it. Doesn’t that mean that it’s true?”
He slid their joined hands to the small of her back and pressed her body closer. She was soft and pliable, molding herself to him, fitting him like his favorite pair of worn jeans.
“Yeah, sure.” He breathed the words against her mouth, not even certain what it was either one of them was saying. He was too full of feeling to think. “It’s the truth.”
She tightened her fingers laced with his, placed her other hand on his chest where his heart was working on a chain gang. “Well, good. There may be hope for you after all, now that you’ve come around to my way of thinking.”
He had? When had that happened? he wondered, threading his fingers into her hair. “How so?”
Her hand rose higher, her fingertips pressing intothe tendons of his neck, her lips nipping at the corner of his. “I can tell you. Or you can kiss me.”
As if that was even a choice.
He canted his head to the side where she waited and covered her mouth with his. It was a soft kiss, lips teasing and rubbing. A light nuzzling pressure. Her optimism working to loosen his pessimism while all he cared about was her taste.
She tasted good. She tasted sweet. When he nudged her lips with his tongue, she opened to let him have her. And then she kissed him back, pulling her hand from his and lacing her fingers at his nape.
She held him there tightly, sliding her tongue into his mouth to curl around his, massaging his neck with her thumbs, moving into his body…
N O ONE WOULD KNOW if she kissed him .
No one would need find out. If she slipped up behind him while he sat there tuning his sax and planted her lips on his neck. Just to let him know she was around. Just to make sure he understood how often he played in her mind.
She’d been waiting, wanting a quiet moment, a private moment. The sort that came only when the club had closed down for the night, when the crowd had come and long gone. When everyone else in the band had packed it in, and Blind Billy had nothing more on his mind than wiping down the bar and counting up the night’s take.
Her skirt swished against the velvet curtain as she stepped back
He didn’t put up any fight at all as she tugged him out of the kitchen and through the beaded curtain. The streetlight from the corner shone through the store’s front windows, glittering off the jewels and crystals scattered around the room.
It was an eerie sight, a magical and otherworldly sensation, surrounded as they were by darkness while vibrant colors flashed and sparked with no reason or rhyme.
Perry had stopped when he’d stopped. She stood now, watching him take in the fairy tale of colors and shapes, squeezing his hand when he shook his head.
“See what happens when you open your mind, Jack? Isn’t it beautiful?”
Her voice was beautiful, and he couldn’t help but turn toward her when she spoke. The room’s kaleidoscope of colors swirled in her eyes, but that didn’t stop him from bursting her bubble. “It’s refracted light, Perry. Not bluebirds flying over a rainbow.”
She smacked his shoulder teasingly with her free hand, leaned in close and whispered, “Don’t you get tired of digging through the barrel for the bad apple?”
He brought her flush to his body. “What I get tired of is people not buying into the truth because they don’t like what they see.”
And the truth right now was that the threat to Della wasn’t the threat on either of their minds.
He saw the mirror of his thoughts in Perry’s eyes, the absolute honesty of this uneasy attraction weighing heavy between them.
Her throat worked as she swallowed. Her eyes, already large and dark, drank him in. She wet her lips, drawing his gaze to her mouth.
“Jack?”
“Perry?”
“Do you hear it now?”
“Hear what?”
“The truth.”
“Is that what you call it?” he asked, hearing nothing but the rush of blood to his head.
She leaned in, brushed her lips to his. “I can hear it. Doesn’t that mean that it’s true?”
He slid their joined hands to the small of her back and pressed her body closer. She was soft and pliable, molding herself to him, fitting him like his favorite pair of worn jeans.
“Yeah, sure.” He breathed the words against her mouth, not even certain what it was either one of them was saying. He was too full of feeling to think. “It’s the truth.”
She tightened her fingers laced with his, placed her other hand on his chest where his heart was working on a chain gang. “Well, good. There may be hope for you after all, now that you’ve come around to my way of thinking.”
He had? When had that happened? he wondered, threading his fingers into her hair. “How so?”
Her hand rose higher, her fingertips pressing intothe tendons of his neck, her lips nipping at the corner of his. “I can tell you. Or you can kiss me.”
As if that was even a choice.
He canted his head to the side where she waited and covered her mouth with his. It was a soft kiss, lips teasing and rubbing. A light nuzzling pressure. Her optimism working to loosen his pessimism while all he cared about was her taste.
She tasted good. She tasted sweet. When he nudged her lips with his tongue, she opened to let him have her. And then she kissed him back, pulling her hand from his and lacing her fingers at his nape.
She held him there tightly, sliding her tongue into his mouth to curl around his, massaging his neck with her thumbs, moving into his body…
N O ONE WOULD KNOW if she kissed him .
No one would need find out. If she slipped up behind him while he sat there tuning his sax and planted her lips on his neck. Just to let him know she was around. Just to make sure he understood how often he played in her mind.
She’d been waiting, wanting a quiet moment, a private moment. The sort that came only when the club had closed down for the night, when the crowd had come and long gone. When everyone else in the band had packed it in, and Blind Billy had nothing more on his mind than wiping down the bar and counting up the night’s take.
Her skirt swished against the velvet curtain as she stepped back
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