Holding Aces Page 11

  He’s right, I know he is, but years of careful actions leave it hard for me to think any other way. He’s exposed me in so many ways, and now he’s doing his best to strip me of my insecurities.

  “Arianna, it’s been three days since we first met and I don’t know about you, but this feeling … well, I’ve never felt like this before. When I’m with you, you’re the only person in the world that matters.”

  Well, that’s just gone and done it. He’s voiced every word that’s going on in my head, but was afraid to admit. He’s intense, self-assured and very convincing, and he’s doing irreparable damage to the walls around my heart, but it feels right. So right. Even in the beginning of my previous relationships it was never like this. It’s all too much and I cant think straight.

  “I think we should head back. I can walk now.” I wriggle and twist my legs to make Denham let go, but he just holds on to me tighter.

  “What’s got you looking so frightened, Stunner?”

  “Denham, put me down,” I sigh. I don’t want our amazing date to take a negative turn, but my self-preservation is starting to kick in.

  “No,” he says flatly.

  “What do you mean no?”

  “I mean I’m not letting you go, not until you tell me what’s going on in the pretty little head of yours. I’m sorry if my words are too soon or too much, but I can’t be anything but honest with you, Ari.”

  I look into his deep brown eyes and see nothing but pure intentions and genuine, heartfelt honesty. I may be way off the mark, but I can’t fight it. I’m already out of my depth, but it feels so goddamn right. The thought of not spending more time with him stabs at my heart, but I can’t keep going back and forth like this. It’s not fair on him and it’s making me dizzy.

  “Ari, I’m not going to apologize for the way I feel. It is how it is. I won’t force anything on you, but I won’t let you run from it either.”

  He gently lets my legs fall until they touch the floor, but his eyes haven’t left mine. I’m not sure if he’s waiting for me to speak or looking for the answers in my eyes. He takes both my hands in his, pulls them up to his chest and holds them tight. “I don’t know who you’re thinking about but I’m not him.” With those few words, he confirms that he can, in fact, see into my soul.

  There is no hiding from this man.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  “Yes, I know you’re not him. You’ve been different from the very first day I met you. It’s hard for me to say this but … I trust you. I have no idea why, there’s no explanation for it, I just do.” He lets go of my hands and wraps me up in his large frame, pressing me to his chest and resting his head against mine.

  “Are we done with the serious stuff?” he says after a few minutes.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, not that I wasn’t serious about everything I said, but this is our first date, and I want to have some fun.”

  He turns his back to me and bends to crouch. “Hop on.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “I know,” he says, turning and giving me his most playful smirk. “Come on, hop on.”

  “You have a thing for carrying me …”

  “No, I just have a thing for you. Being able to carry you everywhere is a bonus.”

  I sling my purse strap over my head and brace my hands on his shoulders. I feel his muscles bunch under my fingertips, ready to take my weight. “You ready?” I ask.

  “Do it,” he says impatiently.

  I take a leap, wrapping my hands around his neck and my legs around his waist. His hands instantly grip around the back of my knees and he holds me tight. I’ve never had a piggyback before. Not even as a child. He playfully starts to wobble from side to side.

  “Jeez. All that lunch you ate is sitting heavy.” He chuckles.

  “I knew I’d be too heavy. Just let me down, I can walk!” I try to get him to let me go by wiggling my legs, but he grips tighter.

  “Not a chance, sweetheart.”

  He breaks into an all-out run, spinning me around in circles and feigning his inability to carry me. I laugh and scream nearly all the way back down the Strip until we reach the fountains outside The Kingdom. Denham slows down and walks to the edge of the biggest fountain.

  I rest my head on his, still clinging on for dear life, but when he feels my body go slack and relax a little, he playfully tips me toward the fountain. I don’t think he means to tip me quite so far and it throws him off balance. It happens in slow motion, both of us trying to regain our balance but overcompensating, and before I know it we’re plunged into the cold water of the fountain, falling in head first and coming up gasping for air. We glance at each other, stunned and soaking wet from top to toe as we sit on our asses in a fountain in the middle of the Las Vegas Strip.

  I can’t hold the laughter in; it’s the kind of contagious laughter that makes your ribs ache and your soul dance. It feels great to laugh so hard, especially in such great company. The whole day so far has been amazing. The world that was weighing so heavily on my shoulders feels a little lighter now.

  Lighter, but wetter!

  OUR LITTLE SCENE AT THE fountain attracts quite an audience. Either Denham has a thing for PDAs or he really doesn’t give a shit what people think. He kisses my breath away and I have to bring myself back to earth and remember where we are before he helps me out of the fountain.

  We walk into the hotel, holding hands and dripping fountain water onto the very highly polished marble floors, but Denham ignores the staff trying to catch his eye as he passes. I love that he has no interest in anything or anyone else but me.

  I hear fast, heavy footsteps get closer as we reach the elevator and I jump when a person approaches us from behind and shouts,“Where the fuck have you been?”

  We both spin in the direction of the sharp voice and I relax when I see it’s only Spike. Denham, however, does not relax at all. He drops my hand and I see tension ticking through his jaw and the muscles in his neck bunching up. He pulls back his shoulders, instantly making him look taller and more menacing, then narrows his eyes before pushing Spikes shoulder, making him take a step back to regain his balance.

  “Apologize,” he barks forcefully.

  “What the fuck, D?”

  “Apologize to the lady. One, for scaring the shit out of her, and two, for speaking with such disrespect.”

  “I’m sorry D, but—”

  “Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Arianna.”

  I watch him jigging around impatiently, trying to get out what’s bothering him and clearly frustrated at being stopped by Denham. “Arianna, I’m sorry, I really am. I didn’t think. But D, I’ve been trying to call you … what happened to you guys anyway?” The urgency in his features is momentarily replaced by confusion as he takes in our dripping wet state.

  Denham casts a look over his shoulder toward me and a cute grin breaks the hard lines that were set along his face. He turns back to Spike and speaks through gritted teeth. “I told you, I didn’t want to be called. I don’t want to know unless the place is burning down and I don’t see a fucking fire.”

  Spike runs a hand through his unruly dark hair. “It’s important. Gimme a couple of minutes?”

  Denham looks back to me and I give him a gentle nod before he grips Spike’s elbow and takes him to one side. I can’t hear what they are saying, but Spikes face is deadly serious. Denham’s shirt is stuck tight to him, the water making it hold onto every curve of every muscle in his back. A flush creeps across my chest and up my neck at the mere sight of him. I sigh in appreciation, and any awkwardness I was feeling about standing here in dripping wet clothes dissolves when I look at his fine form.

  I see Spike nod at something Denham says and he glances over at me, giving me a tight smile before jogging off in the opposite direction to us.

  Denham walks back to me, taking my hand and threading his fingers through mine as he leads me into the elevator. His face is a mask of unease, and t
he tension is radiating off him in waves.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask cautiously. I know it’s a stupid question. If everything were okay he wouldn’t be giving off such an uneasy feeling.

  He punches in the code and the elevator starts to move. After a few very tense minutes, he takes a deep breath before turning to me. “Arianna, you said you trusted me. Do you?”

  I nod. “Yes,” I say with as much sincerity as I possibly can.

  He walks me backwards, pinning me to the mirrored wall of the elevator. One hand holds me in place by my hip as the other tucks a stray hair behind my ear. I shudder as his fingertip traces my lobe and the air is sucked from this small space. His dark eyes are locked on mine and I watch as his lips part and he draws a ragged breath.

  I thought I knew the rhythm of my heartbeat. The only reason it has ever wavered from the continual steady pulse is to accelerate through fear, driving adrenaline around my body to pull me through. No one has ever made my heart race with passion.

  Until now.

  Now it’s beating faster, making my head spin with sensation and my body react with desire.

  Denham slides his hand across the wall and turns the key, halting the elevator with a jolt which makes me gasp.

  I don’t care that there may be people waiting for the elevator that will have to take the stairs.

  I don’t care that the world could be falling down around us.

  I don’t care that this might be the man that takes down every carefully constructed brick that has been my heart’s shield for as long as I can remember.

  Because I feel it. Not just physically. The emotional connection of two lost souls finding one another. I feel every part of the man who might just be the one to save me from my self-imposed emotional isolation.

  Denham’s lips skim my neck, nipping at my throat and causing soft moans to escape from my body. He lifts me up until I’m resting on the handrail. My hips are level with his and I wrap my legs around him, pulling him in to me as close as I can, but it’s not close enough. There are too many clothes between us. I want him.

  Skin on skin.

  My fingers work to undo his belt but his hand halts me. He rests his forehead against mine, his breaths ragged and uneven. “Not yet, Arianna, and not here,” he says regretfully, kissing my cheek. “Not the first time. After that, definitely here.”

  I groan, knowing he’s right, knowing I got caught up in the moment, but also knowing that I want this more than anything. I just need to convince him that my head is in the same space as his.

  He starts the elevator again and we ascend to our floor. He looks visibly more relaxed now, but I’m worried about what had him so agitated. I’m not going to pry, though. If he wants to share, he will. He walks us to my door and opens it to let me in, and I watch as he scans the apartment, walking to the balcony doors and then to the bedroom.

  “Denham, what are you doing?”

  “Just checking.”

  “Checking for what?” I laugh, but the thought that he has to check my room makes me nervous.

  “It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.” He walks back to me and pulls me toward him.

  “Is there likely to be anyone hiding in here?” Now I’m starting to panic.

  “Relax, Arianna. I just wanted to make sure that room service wasn’t here making your bed, or cleaning the bathroom.”

  “Oh, okay,” I say, confused and not in the least bit convinced about his answer.

  “Because if there were anyone else here I wouldn’t be able to do this …” He grasps the back of my head and dips me backwards like they do in the movies for a long hard kiss. When he brings me upright, he runs a hand down over the curve of my waist and squeezes my ass, groaning into my mouth.

  “I could get lost in you, Ari,” he murmurs against my lips. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” My already pink cheeks heat even further and I look away, but his hand comes up to cup my chin, “Arianna, don’t be shy, not around me, not ever. You. Are. Beautiful. And I will tell you every day, ten times a day so you believe me.”

  My heart doesn’t stand a chance. It’s exposed and bare for Denham to do with it what he will. I smile shyly at him, and he strokes my cheek gently with his thumb, kissing me softly on the lips.

  “And as much as I would love to stay here and kiss every inch of your beautiful skin, I have some things I need to see to.”

  “Sure,” I say softly. It’ll give me time to get my head out of the spin that it’s in and think straight. Not that I think I will feel any differently. It’s a feeling I could get very used to. But so many things have happened that I just need time to process it and put it all in order.

  “I’ll be two hours, max.”

  He makes for the door, my hand slipping from his and letting go of my fingertips at the last minute.

  “Denham,” I call after him. “I think you may want to get changed into some dry clothes first.” I giggle.

  He gives me a wink and a flash of that cute dimple I’m becoming very fond of, before leaving me standing here feeling like a schoolgirl with a grin on my face the size of the ocean.

  Time on my own is good. I love to have the freedom and space to do as I please. As much as I enjoy Denham’s company, I need to keep my head and build my independence once again. I’ve spent a long time being stamped down and overruled.

  Life as it was three days ago is finished. I feel a jumble of emotions, and I’m not sure which one to deal with first. I’m devastated. I didn’t want it to be over like this. I feel guilty. Not because he came here looking for me. No, I feel guilty for being relieved. I’m so damn relieved that I can put ‘Natalie Jamesson’ to bed and move on from that part of my life. And the guilt for feeling that way is making me sick. I can’t cope with it. I can’t deal with it right now.

  I flick on some music as a distraction. I need all the answers and I need closure on everything before I can undo the jumble, but I don’t have the capacity to do that right now, so I strip out of my wet clothes and take a quick shower before dressing in a robe and sitting in the middle of the huge bed.

  I take the opportunity to look over my past designs and pull every sketch out of my treasured folder. It is worn and tattered around the edges, but it has come everywhere with me for the last five or six years. There are years of visions transferred to paper and there is so much of me invested in the kaleidoscope of designs. If there was one thing I would save in a fire it would be this. It’s been my saving grace, my focus, my passion. It might have sat in a bottom drawer for many years while I lived with Jonny, but just knowing it was there, knowing that I could pick up the soft lead pencil and loose myself in flowing lines and stunning angles was a huge comfort.

  When real life was tough to take, I would picture ideas and visions in my head—a ballroom full of possibilities, and fantasize about having my one dimensional visions brought to life. One day. That is how I detached from even the darkest of days and found a light.

  One day.

  Just a quick glance through and I feel myself inwardly smiling. There are only a couple of blank pieces of paper left, but I have so many ideas bouncing around in my head that I can’t wait. I can feel every little grain in the paper as the pencil that feels so comfortable in my hand works over the page. Everything I’ve ever gained inspiration from is stored in a compartment in my brain, safely tucked away for future use. I get lost in creation, in a page of black and white soft lines and curves.

  I get lost in the one thing that makes my heart happy.

  A little noise breaks me out of my bubble and I naturally whip my head up toward the doorway. When I lock eyes with Denham, I smile. “How long have you been standing there?” I ask, then frown. “And how did you get in?”

  “I knocked, you didn’t answer. I thought I had better come and make sure you were okay.” He shrugs.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you knock. I was—”

  “Busy drawing?”

  “Sketching. I
t’s nothing really, just a hobby.” I try and brush him off like it’s no big deal, but he starts to walk toward me, so I scoop up all the papers and start to tuck them into my folder.

  “Wait.” He holds his hand out to me. “Let me see … I want to see.”

  “I’ve never shown anyone …”

  I’m holding most of the designs tightly to my chest. There are still a few strewn around the bed that I haven’t picked up yet, so Denham reaches forward and picks up one of my older designs. It’s a favorite of mine—a beautiful silk ball gown inspired by a designer that I was lucky enough to meet when I was in LA. I can hardly believe I designed it.

  “Arianna …”

  Self-doubt overcomes me, and even though I love it, I’m nervous about letting others see. “You don’t have to say you like it.” I reach up and try to take it from him, but he turns his body from me so I can’t reach. “Denham—”

  “Will you stop it, woman? I’m trying to look.” He chuckles and I sit back on the bed cross-legged and nervous.

  Why am I nervous? Why do I care what he even thinks?

  “You did all of these?” He gestures to the remaining few pieces on the bed.

  “Yes.”

  “May I see?”

  He holds out his hand and I hesitate before handing him the pile of papers that moments ago were clutched to my chest. I watch as he flicks through the designs, taking what seems like an eternity to look at them all. His face has no expression and my stomach feels heavy. I’ve never shown anyone.

  “Arianna … these are …”

  “Awful?” I wince.

  “God no. they’re amazing.”

  “You really like them?”

  “No, I don’t really like them, I love them. I can picture you wearing each and every one.” He comes to sit next to me on the bed, carefully placing the papers down. “Stop picking at your fingers and look at me,” he says softly, turning my cheek with gentle fingers. “If we’re going to spend more time together you have to start believing my words. Don’t doubt me. If I say I love your sketches, then I mean exactly that.”

  He traces his fingers down my jaw and runs his thumb over my bottom lip. “If I say I love your soft lips, then I mean it.” His words drip with desire as his other hand tangles in the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me to him gently. “If I say I love the way your skin flushes when I pull you close, then it’s because I can’t get enough of your body.” I watch as his gaze travels the exposed skin of my chest that my robe doesn’t cover. “Never enough,” he murmurs under his breath.