Pink Shades of Words: Walk 2016 Read online

“Absolutely sure. You’re here with me, Angie. I couldn’t have dreamed...”

  “I know,” I whisper. “Me neither.”

  He clears his throat and pushes his untamed hair off his forehead. “I’ll tell you what I regret? That I ordered us room service when I got up a bit ago, when all I want right now is to stay right here and keep holding you in my arms.”

  I curl in closer to him, resting my hand on his ribcage, and skimming my fingertips through the hair on his chest. “Me too.

  “I also moved my flight. Was it presumptuous to assume I could stay at your place tonight?”

  My heart flutters at the idea of him staying with me. “You’ll be most welcome. I just wish you didn’t have to leave again so soon. We live so far apart.”

  He pulls me tighter to his chest. “You never know though. It’s just a short flight and besides, jobs change, people move...”

  I shake my head. “It all feels insurmountable...long distance relationships are always doomed.” I sigh. “The idea of our time together ending is making me blue. Now that we’ve found each other again I don’t want to say goodbye not knowing when I’ll see you again. If only...”

  He kisses the top of my head. “Remember how we used to daydream in bed imagining all the if only’s?”

  I smile. “Yes...let’s pretend! Can we play it again? That would cheer me up.”

  “Hmmm. I know ... let’s pretend that you adjusted your teaching schedule and I my work schedule so we could have three-day weekends together. I’d fly here every other week on Thursday evening, and alternate weekends I’d fly you to San Francisco.”

  My heart soars realizing that this isn’t completely out of the realm of possibilities. “And which ever city we were in, we would have adventures, trying new restaurants and seeing shows.”

  He nods. “Yes, long walks through Golden Gate Park. And occasional side trips to Napa.”

  I grin. “And when in L.A., long walks on the beach. Do you like Santa Barbara? We could do that when you’re out my way.”

  “I love Santa Barbara. We could get a suite at El Encanto up on the hill. It has the best views...”

  “And can we always have breakfast in bed.”

  He laughs softly. “Sure.”

  I trace circles on his upper chest, right over his heart. “You know this upcoming school year I’m on sabbatical. And I can write anywhere. I’m good like that.”

  A wide smile works its way across his face. “Even San Francisco?”

  “Especially San Francisco if you’re there.”

  He cups my cheek and tilts my face up so our gazes meet. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Matt, if I’ve learned anything in the years that have passed, it’s that what’s between us is rare and precious and absolutely worth fighting for. This time, I’m putting us first.”

  He gives me a kiss that makes my toes curl and when we part he whispers, “God, I love you.”

  We lie together several minutes, quiet in our thoughts but I imagine that I can hear the wheels in his head turning. “You know Henry’s getting really independent and he’s going to be off to college in a couple of years. At that point I’d be willing to leave San Francisco.”

  “Really? And move back to L.A.?”

  “I would for you.”

  I feel like my whole body is vibrating with excitement that can’t be contained. “Matt, this doesn’t feel like pretend anymore. It feels real, like this is the life we can create together.”

  “And we will. You know how determined I can be. And a year from now let’s track down Alec, wherever he’s playing and go see him live.”

  I clap my hands together and imagine how different Alec’s concert will be for me without all of the uncertainty and awkwardness I struggled with last night. “Let’s go backstage again and let him see that we made it, that you forgave me and now our one love is true.”

  “Yes, and you know how last night you said that you write stories about redemption. Maybe you’ll write about us one day. If you do, make me rugged and handsome, okay?” He gives me a wide grin.

  I wink at him. “You’re my kind of handsome, and if I write it our story will have to be non-fiction because there’s nothing pretend about us.”

  He nods, his expression relaxed and content. “You’re right ... this love is as real as it gets.”

  Since the night of our breakup all those years ago, I’ve lived in the shadow of guilt and regret and never let go of the idea that I was a bad person. As much as I focused on making the right choices, and treating people well, I couldn’t shake my regret for what I did to Matt.

  But now as I look over at him, and he winds his fingers through mine, I feel complete joy and love for this man who has graced me with forgiveness. He’s willing to trust me with his love and I will honor that trust every day of our lives.

  Sometimes good people get second chances, and this is mine.

  Also By Ruth Clampett

  Work of Art ~ The Collection

  WET

  Animate Me

  Mr. 365

  About Ruth Clampett

  Ruth Clampett, daughter of legendary animation director, Bob Clampett, has spent a lifetime surrounded by art and animation. A graduate of Art Center College of Design, her careers have included graphic design, photography, VP of Design for WB Stores and teaching photography at UCLA. She now runs her own studio as the fine art publisher for Warner Bros. where she's had the opportunity to know and work with many of the greatest artists in the world of animation and comics.

  Wet is Ruth's sixth book, following Animate Me, Mr. 365 and the Work of Art Trilogy. She lives in Los Angeles and is heavily supervised by her teenage daughter, lovingly referred to as Snarky, who loves traveling with her mom with a sketchbook in hand.

  Connect with Ruth Clampett

  RuthClampettWrites.com

  https://twitter.com/RuthyWrites

  https://www.facebook.com/RuthClampettWrites

  https://www.facebook.com/RuthClampett

  http://instagram.com/Ruth_Clampett

  Mr. X – A Short Story by Cambria Hebert

  His voice brushed over me like a blanket of silk, slipping over my skin, the cool softness leaving chills in its wake. I might not have noticed him in this crowded bar, but his actions made it so he was the only one I saw.

  I don’t know where he was sitting before, but he seemed to materialize right out of the crush of nearby people. He stepped around my friends and their dates, bypassing the looks of genuine interest cast his way.

  My gaze wanted to stay with him, to study him, but I forced it away, not willing to allow myself to get tangled up in the net he was casting.

  My feigned disinterest did not deter him.

  His jean-clad thighs came up against the faux wood table right beside the glass that held my drink. He towered over me. I could feel his gaze, steady and calm yet penetrating and hot. I didn’t look up. His looming presence made it hard to swallow.

  I wondered how long he would stand there, waiting for me to give in, waiting for me to accept my lower position.

  Not long.

  But he didn’t walk away.

  He crouched down. He completely lowered his body so we were practically on the same level, with me only slightly higher than him.

  Even before my brain could react, my body shifted toward him, turning in my seat until the side of my knee bumped against his. He wrapped his hand, large and slightly calloused, around my calf. The gesture was so intimate I should have been offended. This was a man I did not know. This was a man who was a complete and utter stranger.

  Yet his intimacy was not off-putting. It was almost like slipping into a pair of really ratty, worn sweats after an extremely long day. There was comfort in his presence; there was a hint of familiarity I didn’t try to analyze.

  There was also attraction.

  Instant, undeniable attraction.

  It wasn’t a sweeping heat. It didn’t take over my body in a single flame. It was a slo
w burn, beginning as a tingle in the balls of my feet and whispering up my legs, causing my entire body to hum.

  It was the kind of desire you anticipated, the kind that slowly spread and you urged it on, wanting it to fill your entire body until everything inside you trembled with yearning.

  My stomach fluttered as if someone caged a million little fireflies that desperately wanted free.

  “What are you doing sitting over here alone?” he asked, his voice low and deep.

  All the little hairs on my head prickled.

  “I’m not alone,” I replied, wanting to gesture toward the crowd of people who sat at the table, but my hands didn’t move.

  “Not anymore,” he said, his thumb stroking over my leg.

  Just then, a new song began to play. It was louder and more annoying than the one that played before it. The crowd of people cheered, and he gave me a half smile.

  “Wanna go somewhere and talk?” he said, leaning closer to be heard over the noise.

  I nodded.

  He removed his hand from my leg and reached around the back of my chair to pull my leather jacket and bag off the top. He slid the items into my lap and stood, stepping back just enough so I could stand.

  “Hey,” Kat said from beside me, reaching out and grabbing my arm.

  I twisted around and leaned toward her. “I’ll call ya tomorrow.”

  Kat’s mouth dropped open, but she recovered quickly and gave me a sly smile. “You sure you know what you’re doing?” she asked.

  I nodded. I knew exactly what I was doing.

  After I stood, his hand settled over the small of my back, once again inciting that tingly feeling across my body. It was a simple touch, a touch that many gentleman used on their dates.

  But this felt different.

  It felt like he was staking his claim. It felt like, in that single, harmless touch, he was owning me.

  Even though the place was packed with people, he guided me to the door like there was no one in our way. Outside, the air was brisk and cold. The wind pulled at the dark strands of my hair, tangling them together against my shoulders. It was sort of like someone threw ice-cold water in my face.

  From my position on the sidewalk, I looked over my shoulder through the dim street lighting at the man who stood behind me.

  He stepped around me, standing so close his heat and frame blocked some of the bitter wind. Gently, he pulled the jacket out of my grip and shook it out, swinging it up and around my shoulders, tucking it close to my body.

  “Did you change your mind?” he murmured, holding the front of the jacket closed just below my chin.

  He was tall and lanky, but he wasn’t too thin. He had a fairly broad frame and large hands. His hair was a sandy color, too light to be brown, but not quite bright enough to be blond. It was cut around his ears, but the top was shaggy and the wind pulled at the messily arranged style. His jaw was stubbled and gruff, his eyes gray, and his cheekbones high.

  He smelled like the woods: earthy, deep, and strong.

  I tipped my chin back just a little, angling my face so I could look directly into his eyes. I felt his grip on my jacket tighten as he anticipated my response.

  I shook my head slowly.

  “I don’t want to talk,” he murmured.

  “I don’t either,” I replied.

  I should have been shocked by my behavior. Literally meeting a guy—a stranger—and agreeing to go home with him minutes after our introduction.

  Technically, we hadn’t even been introduced.

  I could ask him his name.

  But I didn’t really care what it was. His name couldn’t tell me what my body already knew.

  I know what you’re thinking. You’re judging me even as you read this. You’re thinking, This girl is insane! What if he’s a murderer? What if he’s some kind of psycho who’s going to lock her in his basement?

  But even though you’re thinking that, you still want me to go with him. You’re turned on by the possibilities of a mysterious stranger who has the power to make me tingle in three seconds flat. Admit this: if you were me right now in this moment, if you knew this guy would do nothing more to you than deliver the most insane pleasure of your entire twenty-four years, you would go with him.

  He released my jacket and draped an arm across my shoulders, tucking me into his side. I walked along the sidewalk with him until he stopped beside a black roadster, some fancy two-seater sports car. A set of keys appeared in his hands, and the lights blinked once when he unlocked the doors. When he pulled open the door and looked at me, I climbed in without a second thought.

  Several moments later, the car purred to life and slid away from the curb. I watched the city slip by as we drove quietly to wherever we were going.

  No, I didn’t know him.

  But I did know this: he couldn’t do anything worse to me than what had already been done.

  He navigated through the cold city streets like he’d been driving here his entire life. He behaved as if he owned the road, and I found it sexy. It had been a while since I had sex. Actually, more than a while.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t like sex. I just didn’t like many men or people in general. It was hard to have sex with someone when you couldn’t tolerate their presence.

  I didn’t like this guy, but I didn’t not like him either. Maybe the fact I didn’t know him was a turn-on. It didn’t matter who he was or what he was like. Not tonight.

  Tonight was just for pleasure.

  It wasn’t long before the roadster slid into some sleek-looking parking garage. The headlights illuminated the pavement as he drove up to the next level and slid into a conveniently empty spot.

  I reached for the door handle, and his palm settled over my thigh. I was wearing a skirt, so we were skin to skin. My pulse sped and heat pooled in my panties. The way he looked at me, like he was hungry and I was the personification of the perfect bite, made me slightly lightheaded.

  “Stay,” he ordered and exited the car.

  Normally, I wouldn’t have obeyed, but something about this man begged obedience. It was exciting to not know what he might tell me to do next.

  The passenger door opened, and his hand appeared. I draped mine in his palm and allowed him to help me out. The door shut quietly behind me, and he guided us through the garage like he had back at the bar.

  In the elevator, we were alone. The floor was red and the walls were inky black. The doors shone gold, glossy enough to make out our reflection. I stood in the center, waiting patiently—but feeling anything but—for us to arrive at whatever floor we were going to. A few moments into the ride, his hand shot out and pressed the emergency stop button.

  The car jerked to a stop, and I glanced at him, wondering why he would do such a thing.

  “I’m tired of waiting,” he growled and closed the distance between us.

  Our bodies collided, and he bulldozed me backward until my back came up against the wall. One of his hands slipped between my jacket and my top to palm the side of my waist. I lifted my chin to look up, allowing the dark strands of hair to fall away from my face.

  I could hear the sound of my heart beating when he crushed his lips to mine, and then all sound faded away into blissful nothing. His tongue tasted like liquor, something deep and rich. I found myself rubbing my tongue against his vehemently for just another sip of the flavor.

  His kiss could only be described as precise, as if he knew exactly where to go to make me slip deeper and deeper into his web. The assault on my mouth was nothing short of overwhelming, and I moaned into his mouth as our tongues twisted together. I reached up to take thick handfuls of his jacket and hold him closer.

  He deepened the kiss, kissing me so thoroughly I was starting to wonder if I was his prey.

  Just as soon as he shoved me against the wall, he was gone, and the elevator was moving. He didn’t look at me again, though I stared at him.

  My breasts were already aching and the apex of my legs was throbbing in a
way I hadn’t felt in so long it gave me pause.

  This man could be dangerous for me. He could be lethal.

  The elevator slid to a stop, and the shiny doors opened. We stepped into his apartment, not a hallway. Everything here was contemporary and clean in a muted color palette of earth tones. It was a large apartment, but I didn’t pay much attention to the way it was decorated or even laid out. My eyes went right to the wall of open windows that overlooked the lit-up city. The view was incredible. It made me feel like I was standing against a black backdrop full of glistening diamonds.

  He left all the lights off but one small lamp far on the other side of the room. In the reflection of the windows, I saw his figure moving toward me. I liked how me moved.

  Slow, unhurried, but with purpose.

  It was almost like he knew he didn’t have to rush because I was already ensnared. I was already a sure thing.

  I turned from the glass, giving him my undivided attention. The attraction between us was undeniable, as if we were two sparks that together would create a wild flame.

  “Take your shirt off,” he said, not really a demand, but not really a question.

  I peeled of my jacket and dropped it on the floor. Next, I slid my shirt over my head to reveal a white lace bra. Turning so my back was to him, I slowly reached around to unhook the clasp. It fell down my arms, and I tossed it away.

  I glanced over my shoulder, peeking around the curtain of hair. He held up one finger and motioned for me to turn. I pivoted slowly until I was facing him.

  My nipples were already rock hard, so tight they actually hurt. The way he stared made me want to touch myself and pinch my nipples for added pleasure.

  Just like in the elevator, he moved fast, appearing in front of me and grabbing my breasts. They filled his hands when he kneaded them. My head fell back, and I arched into him, enjoyed the way he plucked at the hard buds, causing electric ripples all the way down into my core.

  Between us, I ripped open the white button-up he was wearing. Buttons scattered everywhere as I shoved my hands beneath and scraped my nails down his defined chest.

  “I liked that shirt,” he intoned, giving my breast a squeeze.