KIERA.
Where was I? The bed felt softer than the one I had in his apartment back in Texas. As I attempted to rise, a sharp pain shot through my spine. I collapsed back on the bed with a gentle huff. It was as if my legs gave away beneath me. With each breath I took, my lungs constricted, like they were tired of holding me back from dying. I should be dead. I wanted to be dead.
"Hey," a masculine voice commented.
My eyes followed the direction of the sound. They ended up surveying a man blessed with golden brown skin clad in casual denim shorts under a white tank top. He ran a hand through his raven black hair as he blinded me with a megawatt smile, drawing my attention to his gorgeous dimples.
Cocoa brown irises gazed deep at my frame. I lost myself in them, but not for long. His expression changed from relieved to amused to annoyed, and he was running his mouth in a way that told me that, I might be getting on his wrong side.
Still in a confused state, I strained my ears hard to, at least, catch up with his babbling, but the sounds just washed past. God, no. Not now. I opened my mouth to utter a few words of thanks, but I found myself moving it to no effect.
Finally, I grasped the words, "You're finally up. Just in case you're thinking of running away, I didn't kidnap you. And before you ask, I found you two days ago, almost dead on the shore. Are you okay?"
His look softened as he studied my lips for a while, then snapped up his brown eyes to meet my dull hazel ones.
"You're mute."
He maintained his lounging position at the door.
Was that how we were going to have this conversation? Hang on, I was not yet talking.
"Right?"
He dipped his palms into his shorts pockets as he glided over to my bed.
I wanted to scold him for assuming that.
"Shut up, you idiot," I might've countered sharply.
But my words were trapped in my throat. Heat radiated off his closeness now, he stroked my cheek with his palm, never for once breaking his hot gaze away from mine.
"Dylan," he uttered softly. A whiff of his masculine cologne hit my nostrils, a fruity mix of cherry, pear and watermelon.
Dylan?
He seemed to understand my thoughts because he added, "My name. Dylan."
"So..." He slid a palm down my arm, lingering when he reached my wrist and stopped there. "What's your real name? Don't you dare lie, I could dig up all the dirt I want to know about you this moment."
He gave my fingers the gentlest squeeze; the heat burning between us unquestionable, heady. What was the deal with this Dylan? He regarded my face with pity for a while.
I was afraid he was wondering why I looked this ugly but on the contrary, he whispered, "You're beautiful."
Even the way he said it was ethereal. A carefree smile lit up my face for the first time in months.
"You can write, right?" He asked, a sober look spreading across his sexy lips.
Those dimples resurfaced again, prompting my belly to somersault. At the same time, my stomach growled audibly, he chuckled a bit. Did I look like some clown now? He was such a charming pain in the ass.
"Dinner will be brought up soon," he said, grinning, "I'd like to watch you while you eat. And maybe learn your name."
"Kiera," I blurted out suddenly.
He was taken back by my admission, exactly as I expected. He urged me to repeat myself but when tried, my vocals were paralyzed. Understanding the predicament, he rang a bell to summon dinner upstairs. Although the mere mention of food made me sick with nausea, I suppressed my desire to decline politely because Dylan had been too kind so far; my intuition told me that he didn't deserve that.
We chatted a little more before dinner was brought, earning me the chance to learn more about him like the fact that he won two Oscars, travelled to a boatload of places in the world, that he'd even been to Africa. I was drawn by his shinning caramel orbs boring into my hazel stare.
He asked questions, I responded by scribbling my answers on a yellow notepad that he generously offered. I revealed that I grew up in eastern Texas, my celebrity crush was Ramses Keith, had two best friends who are now happily married to two brothers who, manage to cheat on them and get away with it, that my mom died of ovarian cyst early last year, and the only surviving human I loved most was my big brother Thaddeus.
He bobbed his head vigorously in liking of my answers, promised to take me on a tour of the grounds when I became better. Just when I was about to pass him the notepad, the door burst open.
"Hey babe," the intruder chirruped, "Heard you were still in bed so, I figured I should bring you breakfast. Congratulations on your award, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't drop by earlier to give you a proper treat. So, you're up for dinner tonight at this Italian restaurant I found out yesterday? Or, if you don't want that, I can easily whip up something real quick. And oh, I made some chocolate chips that I think you'll love..."
Her tirade came to a rude stop when she zoned in on me. And so did our staring competition begin.
She turned her lips downwards condescendingly and went all out on bitchy mode.
"You. You're the..."
I hated her intimidating stance as she rolled her eyes so much that I feared they might fall off.
"The thing my boyfriend rescued."
I did not fail to catch on the extra emphasis on boyfriend. Who did she think I was, really? A slutty spinster aching to jump on Dylan's cock? Screw her. Besides, she was ten times more beautiful than I might ever be. Dolled up in a satin red camisole and striped shorts, finished off with shimmery red thong sandals.
Her blond hair, the finest shade of creamy vanilla, was swept onto her right shoulder, framed her perfectly made-up face. I licked my dry chapped lips at the same time she smacked hers coated with red lipstick.
I definitely had nothing on that Greek goddess.
"Joanne, please let her be. She just survived a terrible accident and actually needs to rest. Right, Kiera?"
I acquiesced. Anything to get out of this Joanne's skin. Upon hearing this, she strutted over to my bedside table, slammed the tray of food on it. I earned another mocking sneer from her while she went over to sit on Dylan's laps.
"I missed you, babe. Don't ever stay away from me that long again, okay?" She purred.
"It's just a day," he replied rather indifferently.
There we went. Seemed lover boy did not favour his girlfriend's company one bit. In a sick, twisted way, the thought triggered a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Luckily, she did not notice.
"I want to see you everyday. Is that too much to ask?"
Whatever reply he might have been conjuring was cut off by her lips crashing on his in a deep kiss. She glanced at me slyly as she did so, as if marking her property.
Later that night after their kiss was over and they both retired to his bedroom, I supposed, my thoughts assailed me in tidal waves, bombarding my reasoning. Unfortunately, the master bedroom was right next to mine, which meant I got to listen to her little moans and loud climatic cries.
My imagination grew wild; I struggled with images of him taking her from behind, her on hands and knees, their bodies colliding in perfect rhythm.
"Oh God, yes. Right there, babe. Ah y_" she screamed yet again.
Was he this good in bed? Was he this good all the time? Or actually thinking of doing it with me instead? Was I crazy? I met a man today and I was craving his body? Shame on you, Kiera.