Desire (South Bay Soundtracks Book 1) by Amelia Stone

Author:Amelia Stone [Stone, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-11-23T16:00:00+00:00

“I wanna be the one to walk in the sun.”

- Cyndi Lauper, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”

I awoke slowly, coming back to my senses one by one.

Touch: The bedding underneath me was plush, the blanket over me warm and soft. I was more comfortable than I had been in a long time. But I was most definitely on a bed that was not my own. It was soft, yet supportive, and when I flung my arms and legs out, they didn’t hit the edges. King size, maybe?

I was also fully rested, sated, like I’d actually slept my fill for once. That was weird, but not unwelcome.

Smell: Coffee, somewhere in the distance. Downstairs? Who cares? Coffee! Fuck. YES.

Sound: I could hear someone showering in a nearby bathroom. A male voice was singing, but quietly enough that I couldn’t make out the song.

Sight: I cracked one eye open. As expected, this was not my bedroom. I opened both eyes and sat up, blinking against the bright sunlight streaming in from the windows. Once my eyes had adjusted, I looked around the room. The ceilings were high, probably twelve feet, and the floors were wood, with an intricate inlay around the perimeter. The similarly elaborate base and crown moldings, the dark bedding, and the lack of any aftermarket decoration whatsoever told me I was in a Victorian home owned by a dude.

Graham’s house, then.

Taste: None as of yet, other than the stank breath that told me I hadn’t brushed my teeth before bed. But I was eagerly anticipating a different taste. (See above re: smell.)

I slid to the edge of the bed, realizing as I went that it was much larger than I’d originally thought. A California King, then. Which made sense. Graham was huge. He probably had trouble fitting in a regular bed.

I thought of him in the shower, then blushed, wondering if he was huge everywhere.

Unless I’d been imagining it, we had a moment last night, in the kitchen. We’d been bantering and laughing like two friends would do. He was funny, and really easy to talk to. But then I’d teased my new friend about his love life in high school, and suddenly his eyes were burning holes in my skin. And I ate it up like a cat with cream. I distinctly remember licking my lips and giving him the fuck-me eyes, in fact.

And then it had all gone to shit.

My emotional barometer had been all over the place yesterday, the needle spinning out of control and leaving me feeling punch drunk. Not just loose, but loopy. Loopy enough to spill the entire sordid tale of Daniel’s trust fund, anyway. Not exactly the kind of thing you tell someone you’ve just met.

But then something strange had happened: Graham had actually listened to me. He just sat there and let me ramble on about people he’d never even met, and never would meet, and he didn’t interrupt me, or judge me, or tell me to “let it go, Larkin, it’s time to get over it.

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