Tears sting my eyes. I don’t want to fight with him anymore. I just want all of this to go away and for us to go back to us, not these two angry people who don’t know how to calmly discuss their issues. Trying my best to remain calm I quietly start to explain, “River, I left you a note . . .”

But again he cuts me off. His eyes dart to mine as rage clearly defines every inch of his body. “You left me a f**king note that you were going to see the man you spent your whole life with. The man you left me for the first time we met. The man whose ghost I have had to compete with every day of our lives together.”

My eyes widen in disbelief that he felt that way, maybe still feels this way, and sorrow washes through me. My lip trembles as I try to explain. “River, why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt? I had no idea. We could have talked about it. You know how I feel—that part of my life is over.”

Clearly frustrated, he runs his hands through his hair. Then he quickly moves toward me, and, grabbing my arm, he points to my wrist. “Then why do you still wear this? Why haven’t you taken it off? You know what? Let me answer that for you—because you can’t let him go. Do you still love him?”

Irritated now, I raise my hand and contemplate slapping him. Having decided against it, I hastily drop it. But really, how dare he accuse me of that.

His eyes narrow. “If it makes you feel better to slap me again, go ahead.”

My irritation returns, but I don’t hit him. I’m really not a violent person. So instead I twist away, pause briefly, then head for the door. Fuck him. He isn’t the only one who gets to be mad.

He’s behind me in an instant, grabbing my hand and pulling me back. I turn around on my heels. “I am not going to talk to you when you’re like this,” I snap.

“That’s it? You’re just going to walk away?” he yells. Then letting me go, he turns around and walks back to the chairs.

Muttering under my breath I whisper, “This is getting us nowhere. I’m going inside.”

My words set something off inside of him and he’s quickly beside me again. For a few short seconds, we stand there, face-to-face, glaring at each other. He takes me in, every inch of me. There is a sense of urgency between us I’ve never felt before. My heart is racing. He walks me backward until my legs are flush against the stone railing surrounding our patio. With his eyes still burning into mine, he lifts me so that I am sitting on top of the wall. He fits his body between my legs. I run my hands down his chest and around to his back, my fingers digging into it.

Enunciating his words so that his message is crystal clear he tells me, “You’re not going anywhere. Dahlia, I’m done with you walking away every time we have an argument. You got it?”

Nodding my head yes, I’m a little stunned by his aggressiveness but for some reason I’m also incredibly turned on.

“River . . . the note means nothing. Those are Ben’s words, not mine. He’s just stuck in the past. And you know the reason I wear the bracelet isn’t about Ben. I told you why—to remind myself to live life to the fullest, to have no regrets. But River, you mean everything to me and I don’t think I can get you to see that right now. I’m not sure you’re in any state of mind to hear what I have to say. That’s why I was leaving.”

He forces me to look at him. “Dahlia, you’re wrong. We can talk about this now; we are talking about this now. What it comes down to is that unless you tell me you still love him, there is nothing we can’t work out.”

Staring at his bleak expression, I break. “I love you. I want you. It’s simply only you. I promise.” My hands fist the hem of his shirt, wanting to pull it off. My hands clench and unclench in the fabric as my heart beats even faster.

His lips part and his eyes grow dark with desire. He lets his fingers drift down to my shoulders and I shudder. When he places his hands on my thighs, spreading them wider, I crave his touch everywhere. My blood races as his eyes hold mine captive.

When I’m finally able to break free of this trance, I lick the outline of his lips, tasting the salty seawater from the beach still on his skin.

Pulling back, he studies me and his green eyes gleam under the halo of lights from the Hollywood sign. I press my palms to his chest and run them up under his shirt. He groans, and then slips his tongue in my mouth. I gasp when he forcefully thrusts his h*ps into mine and lose my connection to his lips.

His hands move from my h*ps to my chest. He presses his fingers into my skin as he traces the small curves of my br**sts, and then grazes each rib before stopping at the waistband of my shorts. When his hands reach my h*ps again he cups my backside and lifts me up. Leaning my head against his, I run my fingers through his hair, tugging it ever so lightly and cinch my legs around his waist.

Closing my eyes, I feel our mouths meet again. We’re frantic for each other and our breathing becomes erratic. After a beat, he turns us around and starts walking toward the staircase. When I mold my body to his, he stops and presses my back against the wall, grinding into me. Again it’s more aggressive than we’ve ever been, even more so than last night. Hastily setting me down, his hands are at my waist in an instant and I whimper with longing when he tears the button off my shorts and I hear it clink on the patio. He yanks my shorts, along with my bathing suit bottom, down and they fall to the ground.

The more he touches me . . . the more I want to touch him, love him, satisfy him. I reach for his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as fast as I can. He groans when I slide my hand into his board shorts. His lips find mine again and when he bites down on my lower lip, I want his pants all the way off. His are not as easy to maneuver as mine so he does it for me. I lift his shirt up and pull it over his head. Looking at his smooth chest sends a rush of adrenaline through me.

Standing there completely naked, looking at me in anticipation of what’s to come, he practically tears my shirt off. He hastily tugs at the string behind my neck and the triangles of my bikini top fall to my stomach. When he pushes against me I can feel how much he wants me. His breathing hitches and his eyes blaze as he stares at me intently, like he wants to devour me.

“Mine always,” he whispers, nipping my earlobe with his teeth.

“Yours forever,” I breathe, burying my head in his neck.

He’s cupping my chin as we stare into each other’s eyes, reassuring the other that the words we’ve just spoken are the truth. He surprises me when he turns me around and urges my legs apart. But when his head comes around me for a kiss and I twist to meet him, I don’t care which direction I’m facing. Our tongues find the warmth of each other. With one hand he grabs my hip while the other one travels down to my slick flesh. His skin is warm and feels so good against mine. He plunges a finger inside of me and I gasp. Hissing in a breath, I prop myself up with my hands to the wall, telling him, “River, I want you. Now.”

When he inserts another finger I moan out in pleasure and my moans grow louder when he circles his thumb around me. Not able to stand it much longer, I reach behind to grab him and slide my grip up and down his hard length.

He’s nearly panting in my ear when I place him right where I want him. His hands go around my h*ps and he slams into me fast and hard. I’m bracing my palms against the wall for support as his thickness fills me. Each retreat is followed by another glorious penetration. As his pace quickens, he reaches one hand down and starts to circle my most sensitive spot. “Don’t move,” he says and pushes deeper into me at an increasing rate. When he lets out a low, almost primal groan, I know I have to experience him fully, so I push myself back and into him as hard as I can. Feeling him inside me is the single most fulfilling sensation in the world. When I hear that low groan from him again I know he feels the same.

I start moving up and down on my toes, pushing him as deep as possible into me. When his fingers dig into my flesh, I know his pleasure is building at the same pace as mine. He’s no longer kissing my lips, no longer able to—I can tell from the sounds he’s making and the way my body feels. As he continues to rock himself into me, my body responds rapidly. Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath and scream into the night, “Oh God, River yes!” My body shudders and pulsates from its core as I come hard and fast, experiencing a feeling that makes everything that was wrong between us feel right.

His thrusts slow as my cries continue and a low groan escapes his mouth as he pours himself into me. It makes my muscles clench and my toes curl. He cocoons me against the wall, his arms on each side of me, his chest flat against my back, and his cheek resting on mine. We are both breathless and spent, but neither one of us wants to move—I don’t want this feeling of utter pleasure to ever end.

When he tugs on the string around my back, my bikini top falls to the ground. I twist my head around and joke, “What? You want more?”

His lips meet mine and he kisses me with so much love that when he stops my lips are tingling. I smile at him and a devilish grin crosses his face as he says, “I always want more.”

Chapter 12

Catch My Breath

The next morning we’re back outside in the yard and I love how River’s green eyes sparkle in the sunlight as I watch him from the lounge chair. I have my coffee in one hand and my Kindle in the other.

He turns to me and shoots me his full-blown smile. His dimples always make my heart flutter. Even with a black eye, he still takes my breath away.

“You’re really not going to help me, are you?”

I shake my head from side to side. “Nope. You have to learn your lesson.”

“What lesson would that be?” He walks over to me with the broom still in his hand.

Setting my Kindle down, I hold my hand over my eyes to block out the sun and say, “Why, the ‘you break it, you clean it up’ lesson, of course.”

He lets the broom fall to the patio and pushes my knees up toward me as he straddles the lounge chair.

“Hey, watch my coffee!”

Taking my coffee from my hand, he sets it on the side table. His mouth is on mine before I can say another word. Then pulling away, he runs his hands up the inside of my thighs and says, “I have a few lessons I wouldn’t mind teaching you. And I bet mine are much more fun.”

I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him back to me. He presses his mouth to mine and with the taste of his lips, the feel of his breath, everything seems perfect. Suddenly he sits up, his hand comes to my cheek, where he cups my face for a long moment, and then just stands up.

“Where are you going?” I protest.

With a sexy grin he says, “I have to finish cleaning up.”

I pout my lips. I wasn’t done kissing him.

He laughs. “I’m getting too turned on sitting here like this, but if you want to help me, we could finish a hell of a lot faster and start on one of those lessons.”

I giggle. “Nah, I’m good.”

He slips his Rolling Stones T-shirt off and tosses it at me. “It’s hot out here.” He grabs the broom and walks back over to the shattered green glass.

My eyes scan his perfect back—the way his muscles flex and move with every sweep of the broom, the way his skin glistens in the sunlight. “I know exactly what you’re up to and it’s not going to work.”

He smiles darkly. “Oh you have no idea what I’m up to. Trust me.” He winks before turning back around. Bending over, he attempts to push the glass into the dustpan with the broom. He manages to get about a quarter in each time and the more I watch the more I feel bad. He really could use some assistance. I finally stand up and walk over to help him.

When I’m standing next to him, I place my hands on my h*ps and let out a deep exaggerated sigh. “Hand me the broom and I’ll sweep the glass into the dustpan.”

His eyes peer up at me as a smirk crosses his face. “You sure?”