Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 161(@200wpm)___ 129(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
"Eyes closed, Beauty." His tone is dark, dangerous, and incredibly sexy. Tingles shoot down my spine, but his tender touch eases my worries away. "Trust me," he murmurs in the shell of my ear.
What is he doing, and what happens next?
Draven slips a silk blindfold over my eyes, tying it behind my head, tight enough to hold but not so tight it hurts. My heart beats rapidly inside my chest. I shiver, fearful of losing control but take a deep breath to calm my nerves. Even though Draven has found workarounds for his lack of sight, there must be moments when he's afraid. Deep in my soul, I know he won't hurt me, so I decide to let myself go and just be in the moment.
His cell rings, and he drops his hands like they're on fire. The ringtone is the guitar and drum combo from the Guns n Roses song, Paradise City. Laughter bubbles up inside me, and I tip my head back and laugh.
Thinking my imagination was playing tricks on me, I ignored thinking I'd heard Panama that night in the library, but Draven was hiding in the shadows, watching me the whole time.
"It was you! I thought I imagined hearing music the night we met in the library, but I didn't."
Lifting the blindfold just a touch, I spin on my heel and watch Draven as he fumbles with the ringer. He's adorable. He glances up with a sheepish look on his face. Biting my lip to stop myself from laughing, I drop the blindfold. My hands drop to my sides and wait.
A growl rumbles deep inside his chest, and he hesitates as though the moment is lost. I reach for his wrist to reassure him. "I'm waiting," I say, my tone soft. "What's the surprise?"
Deep, sonorous strains of cello pour from the surround sound speakers in the gym, the subtle, haunting melody soon joined by violins. The sound alone lifts my spirits, but Draven's hands on my body elevate the experience to a sublime level.
"Follow my lead." He pulls me close and leads me in a slow waltz. Blindfolded, his hands and body are my only guide; if I keep my pelvis close to his, I can follow the steps without faltering. I've never danced a waltz before, but this piece of music was made for us. I feel as if I'm floating on air.
The music slows, and all I hear is flute as it trills a high, sweet tune, like birdsong at dawn. When Draven kisses me, my soul catches on fire.
"What's taking so long?" Gretchen's sharp tone slices through the delicate atmosphere we painstakingly created.
"Ma," he grumbles, gently releasing me from his embrace.
The door creaks open, and Gretchen gasps. I can't see her on account of the blindfold, but she must have poked her head into the gym. She's seen us. All the air is sucked out of my lungs as I plummet straight to earth with a thud.
Too ashamed to meet her eyes, I fumble with the knot holding the blindfold in place. Unable to release it, I give it a quick tug and loosen it enough to slide it on top of my head like a headband. It gives me something to do with my hands while I think of what to say when Torquemada begins the grand inquisition. Gretchen's going to sack me for sure. I'm ruined.
She stands beside the door, backlit by the light in the hallway, one hand resting on the C-Bus panel built into the wall. "Sorry! I tried calling but couldn't get through." Her tone softens, and while I can only make out a silhouette, her shoulders are relaxed.
"Why don't we ask Dahlia to choose the first song?" She's looking at Draven, who dips his chin to his chest.
Nervous about failing whatever test she's setting for me, my voice trembles. "What do I have to do?"
"Relax." She breathes off an easy laugh. "It's something we started doing for fun when Draven was a boy. We'd have a party on the first Saturday of the month." Draven grunts, and she waves her hand in the air dismissively. "Okay, it's not a party, but we don't get out much, and it helps let off steam."
I clasp my hand to my heart. "Today is the first Saturday."
"That's right," she says as she punches a code into the C-Bus panel on the wall. A motorized whirring sound draws my gaze to the ceiling, where a panel opens, revealing a disco ball.
Spotlights trained directly on the spinning mirror ball create a cascade of light. Small showcase lights line the gym walls, pointed upward to add to the effect without being overpowering.
"You get to pick the music."
"Oh no, I couldn't!" They've been doing this for years, and I can't interfere. It's too much responsibility.
"Yes, you can," Draven drawls, handing me the list of options. I skim-read the list and press a hand to my mouth to stifle the giggles. It's a time warp of power ballads by hair bands from the 80s, and I love it.