Just One Kiss - J. Saman Page 0,45

move to New York, and how can I ask her to pick up and move here? Especially after such a short time. Add to that, the sobering thought that hit me square in the chest in the shower yesterday. The one that had me retreating.

What if she’s like Piper, like everyone else, and one day decides she doesn’t want me anymore and walks away?

Walking across the barn, I head into the gallery. There are a lot of pieces in here, but I know the one I want. It hit my mind the moment I woke up and saw her this morning. And though I would like to make her one of her own, create a piece just for her, I don’t have the time if I want her to have it for tomorrow.

Lifting it up into my hands, I stare down at the colored glass, feeling the weight that’s been sitting on my chest since she showed up growing heavier, more suffocating.

I’m terrified of loving her so much.

Blowing out a resigned breath, I wrap up the piece I want her to have, taping the bubble wrap and the brown paper around it.

The piece stays in my hand as I head back to my studio, determined to lose myself in some work for a while. I grab several different colored pillows, a specific design floating through my head. It’ll take a lot of time to complete. Has a lot of detail, which will require a lot of concentration.

Exactly what I need.

I churn up the fire, placing my starting pillows in there and get to work. Music flows through the Bluetooth speakers I have set up for my phone, my mind lost in my piece, refusing to be pulled or drag in directions I can’t allow it to go.

Sweat glides down my temple and I wipe it away with my forearm as I crouch down, pouring a strip of gold molten glass that will sparkle and shine when the piece is complete. Once it’s laid the way I want it, I grab my blowtorch, heating up the end and taking my pliers, twisting the heated glass around a thin metal rod. Ever so carefully, I extract the rod, leaving an angled curl just as I want it.

Stepping back, I turn off the torch, staring at the piece and trying to figure out where I want to go next with it. The purple I’m envisioning will really set it off.

Especially against the gold.

I drop my hands to my hips, shifting and then stopping in my tracks as I catch sight of London leaning against the wall of the barn, arms folded over her chest, a fire in her eyes that instantly heats my blood.

“How long have you been standing there watching me?”

“A while,” she admits. “I like watching you work. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sexier sight in my life.”

London pushes off from the wall, sauntering toward me.

She’s wearing tight yoga pants and a crop white long sleeve tee. Her hips move seductively, her shirt revealing her soft, toned abdomen. Her eyes are on mine, her lips slightly parted and my god, she’s my siren’s call. The one I will never stop wanting to answer, even if it has me falling headfirst into an ocean desperate to drown me.

Her hands run up my abs, her touch making my muscles clench and ripple. “You took off your shirt.”

I nod, though I don’t even remember doing it.

She leans in, licking a trail up from my navel to my nipple, tasting my sweat and salt on her tongue. She licks her lips, her eyes dark, the pulse at the base of her neck racing.

My hand grasps her neck, feeling that pulse against my palm as I tilt her head back and to the side. “So beautiful, London. So fucking stunning I can hardly breathe when I look at you. You are the ultimate form of pain for me. The burning agony and the sweet torture of my life. I can’t keep you but there is nothing I want more.” I suck in a ragged breath, already reconciled, ready to tell her the words I’ve never told another living soul. “This feeling, this love I have for you… the way I want you, London is ripping me apart.”

“Love isn’t always pain, Miles.”

That’s where she’s wrong. “In my world, it is.”

Her eyes sparkle. “If love is pain, let me show you how good it can hurt.”

I blow out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.