But again he cuts me off. His eyes dart to mine as rage clearly defines every inch of his body. "You left me a fucking 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 hips into mine and lose my connection to his lips.
His hands move from my hips to my chest. He presses his fingers into my skin as he traces the small curves of my breasts, and then grazes each rib before stopping at the waistband of my shorts. When his hands reach my hips 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.