The Bluest Blue (XVIII)

“Just one of our many talents.” She grinned at him.

She was wearing the same white dress, so long it almost reached the floor. Her braids were gone, her dark hair now hanging over her shoulders. Only one of the red roses remained, and it was tucked into the deep cleft of her cleavage. She held the dark sunglasses in her hands, passing them from one hand to the other. Without thinking, he took them from her hands.

“It’s been so long, David.” She stood on tiptoe and placed her arms around his neck. Her heart-shaped face was inches away from his. Brian noticed that she was barefoot. Had she been barefoot before? He couldn’t recall. All he knew was that her scent was in his nostrils, intoxicating him, and her eyes, the same blue from last night’s dream, were driving into his.

“Maybe I do know you. Maybe Davenport isn’t some crazy old kook.” His hands were in her hair now, so that she was shivering, quietly whimpering with anticipation. He brought his mouth down to hers with a force that surprised them both.

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