Delaney James seems to have it all-a successful husband, a stylish Manhattan townhouse, and a thriving career in fashion journalism-until it all falls apart. Her husband leaves her, shattering the perfect life she once knew. Heartbroken and desperat...
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I forgot how much I love this city. I'm a Carolina boy at heart, but something about LA has always made me feel at home. Maybe it's the energy, or the fact that celebrities walk the streets on the daily, so I'm just a face in the crowd. Maybe it's because when I got called up, we were playing the Condors, and even though the Archers won the game, the home crowd treated me like one of their own and gave me a standing ovation when I left the mound in the seventh inning. Hell, maybe it's the fact that LA has the best Mexican food I've ever had, and there's no better way to my heart than great food.
Whatever the reason, I'm happy to be back, and I'm glad I'll be able to experience LA in a more relaxed atmosphere, and I'm so glad I have Delaney by my side while I do it.
I close the door behind her as she's making friendly conversation with the driver in her sweet, Disney princess voice, before I walk around the back of the car and slide into my seat, buckling myself in as the driver pulls away from the curb. Her body is turned toward me, but I can tell she's nervous by the way she's twisting her ring around her finger. The ring I mowed nearly a hundred lawns to afford.
My chest pinched and I thought I was imaging things when I saw her wearing it on the plane. It meant so much to me when I gave it to her, and I wasn't exaggerating when I said it was a promise ring. I saw our future flash before my eyes when I slipped it on her finger, and the fact that she's wearing it now tells me what I already know - her whole needing time excuse is just that, an excuse. She's scared. Whether it's of getting hurt again or the reality of something good actually happening to her is unclear, but she's here. She came to LA with me.
I need to be patient and prove to her that I'm not going anywhere. That I'm not going to hurt her – not ever again. That I'll do everything in my power to make her as happy as she makes me. I can talk to her, and do things to show her, and try and convince her to trust me, but it needs to be on her time, or we won't make it.
It needs to be her decision.
"So," I start, hoping conversation will relax her a bit. "How was the spa?"
Her eyes light up and a beautiful smile spreads across her pretty face. "It was amazing! Thank you so much."
"You're welcome."
"I had an exfoliation treatment that made my skin feel like silk." She stretches her arm across my lap and rests her hand on my thigh, looking up at me from underneath her long, black eyelashes. "Wanna feel?"
I reach out, starting at her slightly sunburnt shoulder and lightly drag the tips of my fingers down her arm, stopping just above her wrist. "You're right. Feels like silk."
She smiles and looks out her window, watching as the city sights pass by, while my eyes study her, wondering if the rest of her feels as smooth as her arm. My dick twitches and begins to press against the zipper as I imagine how soft the insides of her thighs would feel against my cheeks while my head is between her legs, and I'm feasting on her.
