Connected by Kim Karr Page A

in toward me. Unable to control myself, my body unconsciously sways closer to his, and a small noise escapes my throat. I hear him inhale in response. We are so close, I think he’s going to kiss me, but instead he rests his forehead on mine and I can feel his breath on my jaw. Our foreheads remain connected for a few short seconds before he glides his nose over my cheek. Exhaling a heavy breath as his mouth lightly grazes my ear, he whispers, “You look beautiful, perfect really.”
    His sexy moves and his closeness catch me off guard. My stomach is a mix of butterflies and flips. I didn’t expect his contact nor did I expect his kind words; words that I just doubted about myself. Biting my bottom lip and swallowing hard, I resist the urge to pull him over to my bed and just be done with the semantics. Instead I decide to take a step back and wrap my arms around myself to stop my uncontrollable quivering.
    With his gleaming green eyes gazing at me so intensely, I manage to find my voice and say in an octave or two off, “Thank you kind sir, did I take too long?”
    Before he can comment, his phone chimes, but he ignores it. The distraction is fine with me because it keeps him from noticing my reaction to his touch. He continues to look at me with that mesmerizing look of total awareness. I almost feel like he’s deciding if he wants to eat me for dinner, which would suit me just fine.
    Stepping back, he braces his arms on both sides of the doorframe and shakes his head. “No, I just wanted to make sure your bags were delivered.”
    I smile warmly at this thoughtfulness and inhale his intoxicating scent. “Yes they were, thank you very much.”
    Stepping under his arms and into the hallway, I turn to glance at him as the door closes. “I’m ready.”
    I grin when I hear that Hmmm… sound from him again. I have figured out that he makes that sound either when I do something that is unexpected or when he finds something I said or did funny.
    He catches up with me, and once again, takes my hand and leads me to the elevator. Exiting the building, we walk to his car that is still waiting for us out front.
    Driving out of the parking lot, he pulls his car over to the side of the road and cocks his head toward me. “Did I tell you how amazing you look?” His voice is soft with a rough whispering, raspy tone.
    Losing myself in his green eyes, I answer in complete honesty. “Yes actually, you did, but I don’t mind hearing it from you again.”
    With his eyes locked on mine, he nods his head. “Just wanted to make sure you knew.” Grinning delightfully, he turns back to his driver position and pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “Mind if I change before we head out?”
    He pauses a second to look at me, and when he sees me shake my head, he continues, not waiting for a verbal response. “You can grab a drink while I take a quick shower.”
    Then thumbing to the back seat where his guitar is, he says, “I have to drop my guitar off anyway, I had a photo shoot before our meeting and they wanted pictures of me with her.”
    I giggle, despite myself. Her? He calls his guitar her?
    “ What?” he asks in mock offense.
    Still giggling, I ask, “Does your girl have a name?”
    Chuckling back at me, he answers, “Stella, her name is Stella, and don’t make fun. She’s the only girl I have ever really counted on.”
    Having stopped my giggling and replaced it with appreciation, I say, “I’m not making fun, I actually get it. I feel the same way about my camera.” And for good measure, I laugh a little and say, “Maybe I should name him.”
    The humor having entered back into our conversation, he chuckles along. “Him?”
    “ Him, her, I don’t know. I’ve never given it that much thought, but having a girl sleep in my room with me every night isn’t my thing.” I say this knowing it will elicit a reaction.
    He’s full out chuckling now. “Hmmm . . . you should see the picture I have in my head right now, no