Page 37 of Reckless Desires
Everything aligned, just in time.
The moment I saw her standing there with her jet-black hair,
And that skintight dress.
She’s as perfect as perfection gets,
But the heart in her chest,
Is the most priceless thing to me.
He keeps singing, and I feel the familiar sting of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. Bordeaux is singing a song he wrote for me, not just a song that reminds him of me. Skintight dress, jet-black hair. It isn’t a coincidence. I watch him in complete awe, his voice reverberating off the walls in the studio, and it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. And it’s coming from those lips. From Bordeaux. Every so often, he closes his eyes and really belts a part of the song out, grasping the microphone hanging down from the ceiling with one hand and leaning away from it, stretching backward like he’s using every bit of his lungs.
Every single piece of my body, from my toes to my soul, feels the words he’s singing. It’s like I’m under a Bordeaux Daniels’ spell, and suddenly, I see why so many women are captivated by him. Why women beg him to sign their boobs and throw themselves at him.
I feel like I’m seeing the deepest parts of his soul for the very first time—the parts of him he usually keeps locked away unless he’s on a stage. And fuck, these parts of him are beautiful.
And I’d be lying now if I tried to say,
She doesn’t have a hold on me.
And I’d be lying now if I tried to say,
I’d be fine if she walked away.
He comes back out of the booth, and I wrap my arms around him so tightly, he stumbles backward.
“I feel like that means you liked it?” He laughs, smoothing his hand over my hair before I pull back just enough to silence him with my lips.
“When did you write that?” I ask, nodding, “I loved it.”
He trails his hands down to my waist, lacing his fingers behind me and pulling me back in to him. “Just now, actually.”
I search his eyes to see if he’s trying to pull one over on me, but there’s no hint of a joke. “You seriously just got in there and that all came to your mind like that? There’s no way...” Clearly, I underestimated his talent. Not that I thought he had none, because clearly, he’s doing something right, but my god… He’s incredible.
Absolutely incredible.
Twenty-Seven
Bordeaux
Querencia (n.) a place where
one feels safe.
___________
I could probably think of a million songs that simply reminded me of Isla, but I wanted this to be special. I want to remember tonight, and I want her to remember tonight, the two of us here and together, for the rest of our lives. Even if everything changes tomorrow, we have tonight, and I want to stay here as long as I can.
“Now,” I tell her, “it’s your turn. Get in there and sing me something.”
Isla looks from me to the recording booth and shrugs. “How can I possibly follow that?”
She’s beautiful. The candlelight only adds to the complete and total awe I’m in of her. Shadows dance across her skin and every single time I see her, I think, damn, she couldn’t get sexier. But somehow, every single time I see her, she proves me wrong. It doesn’t matter if she’s in a skintight black dress or blue jeans with a neon purple crop top like she is now, she’s always sexy.
“Do you want me to play a track for you to sing over?” I ask, unsure of how comfortable she even is with singing.
“Nah,” she says, heading into the booth after giving me a quick kiss. I watch her ass sway as she walks away, her jeans tight and form-fitting. “I’ll just do a quick little thing and we can call it even.”