Read Online Goodbye to You by Aj Matthews - Free Book Online
Authors: Aj Matthews
Tags: Romance
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surprised he’s here since he was rattled after the car accident two days ago, and he wasn’t sure this morning if he was up to playing. Despite a couple stitches in the forehead, he’s on stage playing a rousing acoustic cover of a 1980s hair-band hit. Not one my favorites, but Mac is a terrific singer and guitarist, so I think his version sounds better than the original.
I’m proud Mac’s overcoming his anxiety of playing in public. Appreciative applause and copious tips play a part.
Thea leads me to a booth. She slides in, and I head to the bar and pour a couple drafts.
I move in next to her. Though I love sitting across from her, looking at her, I want to be as close as possible. Arm-to-arm, thigh-to-thigh. As much skin-to-skin contact as I can get in public.
With the hope of getting full-on contact later, in private.
She told me her friends keep joking, asking if we’d done “it,” and calling Thea a liar when she told them no. After tonight, I hope she can say no.
And actually be lying.
I peruse the menu and decide on nachos. I wasn’t hungry when I asked to come here, but the thought of melty cheese and spicy chili sounds delish.
The lie got me out of a trip to the cemetery. I don’t want to be surrounded by death on my last day here.
Warm, living flesh, as close as I can get to it. That’s what I crave.
Shay heads to the kitchen to put in the order then comes back, moving in close. His musky, salty scent envelopes me.
I lean into him. Shay watches the television tuned to the cable news channel, and I people-watch as customers come and go. Paddy chats with a few barflies who are stacking empty beer cans in a pyramid on the bar top.
I squeeze Shay’s knee and trace lazy circles around the raised scars. I wonder if he got these at the same time as the ones on his arm.
We’ve all got things we don’t want to discuss, wounds penetrating beyond the flesh deep into our hearts and souls, so I left it alone.
Shay brushes his callused thumb across the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. I shiver.
A clap of thunder shakes the room, and the skies open, dumping rain at an alarming rate.
If we can’t do go outside, plenty of indoor activities can keep us occupied. I don’t want food or beer.
I’m hungry for his touch, thirsty for his lips. I lean in and whisper as I rub his thigh. “Can we go? To your house?”
He turns to look me in the eye. “Thea, I . . .”
“You live over the garage, behind your house? It’s private, right?” I bite my lip and hold my breath.
“Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Are you sure?”
“Shay, I’ve been sure since the night I met you. Please.”
He throws a twenty dollar bill on the table to cover the food and beers, and I slide out. We run out into the downpour.
While everyone else is running for cover, we’re standing in the onslaught, staring into each other’s faces. His hazel eyes darken, turning brown as he lowers his head.
Water streams from my face and his, rivulets pouring from his strong forearms gripping my hips. His white shirt is plastered to his torso, outlining his shoulders and tapered waist.
My mouth waters. My chest flattens against him, my nipples tight and tingling.
His kisses before were sweet, tender, and passionate.
His hands cup my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks.
As soon as his lips close over mine, I know this one will be different.
He nips my bottom lip with his teeth and engulfs my mouth with his. The hot pressure of his lips ignites a fire that threatens to torch me where I stand.
The passion? Yeah. Sweet and tender?
No more.
Now his kisses are voracious. Hungry.
The fervor of this kiss makes my knees weak. If my arms weren’t around him, I might have collapsed into a puddle and washed into the storm drain.
Though I’m disappointed when he breaks the kiss, I know it’s so we can go.
He leads and I follow, stray wet curls slapping against my face. We head toward the seaport,
I’m proud Mac’s overcoming his anxiety of playing in public. Appreciative applause and copious tips play a part.
Thea leads me to a booth. She slides in, and I head to the bar and pour a couple drafts.
I move in next to her. Though I love sitting across from her, looking at her, I want to be as close as possible. Arm-to-arm, thigh-to-thigh. As much skin-to-skin contact as I can get in public.
With the hope of getting full-on contact later, in private.
She told me her friends keep joking, asking if we’d done “it,” and calling Thea a liar when she told them no. After tonight, I hope she can say no.
And actually be lying.
I peruse the menu and decide on nachos. I wasn’t hungry when I asked to come here, but the thought of melty cheese and spicy chili sounds delish.
The lie got me out of a trip to the cemetery. I don’t want to be surrounded by death on my last day here.
Warm, living flesh, as close as I can get to it. That’s what I crave.
Shay heads to the kitchen to put in the order then comes back, moving in close. His musky, salty scent envelopes me.
I lean into him. Shay watches the television tuned to the cable news channel, and I people-watch as customers come and go. Paddy chats with a few barflies who are stacking empty beer cans in a pyramid on the bar top.
I squeeze Shay’s knee and trace lazy circles around the raised scars. I wonder if he got these at the same time as the ones on his arm.
We’ve all got things we don’t want to discuss, wounds penetrating beyond the flesh deep into our hearts and souls, so I left it alone.
Shay brushes his callused thumb across the sensitive skin at the base of my neck. I shiver.
A clap of thunder shakes the room, and the skies open, dumping rain at an alarming rate.
If we can’t do go outside, plenty of indoor activities can keep us occupied. I don’t want food or beer.
I’m hungry for his touch, thirsty for his lips. I lean in and whisper as I rub his thigh. “Can we go? To your house?”
He turns to look me in the eye. “Thea, I . . .”
“You live over the garage, behind your house? It’s private, right?” I bite my lip and hold my breath.
“Yeah.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Are you sure?”
“Shay, I’ve been sure since the night I met you. Please.”
He throws a twenty dollar bill on the table to cover the food and beers, and I slide out. We run out into the downpour.
While everyone else is running for cover, we’re standing in the onslaught, staring into each other’s faces. His hazel eyes darken, turning brown as he lowers his head.
Water streams from my face and his, rivulets pouring from his strong forearms gripping my hips. His white shirt is plastered to his torso, outlining his shoulders and tapered waist.
My mouth waters. My chest flattens against him, my nipples tight and tingling.
His kisses before were sweet, tender, and passionate.
His hands cup my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks.
As soon as his lips close over mine, I know this one will be different.
He nips my bottom lip with his teeth and engulfs my mouth with his. The hot pressure of his lips ignites a fire that threatens to torch me where I stand.
The passion? Yeah. Sweet and tender?
No more.
Now his kisses are voracious. Hungry.
The fervor of this kiss makes my knees weak. If my arms weren’t around him, I might have collapsed into a puddle and washed into the storm drain.
Though I’m disappointed when he breaks the kiss, I know it’s so we can go.
He leads and I follow, stray wet curls slapping against my face. We head toward the seaport,
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