Chapter Fourteen

Thalia shoved though the glass doors that opened onto the foyer of the library. Her boots squeaked on the marble tile as she rushed down the hall. The door to the lecture hall was open. Roberta Clarke stood at the front of the room and read from a paperback book she held in her hands. A few folks turned and gave Thalia dirty looks as she entered the room.

Thalia found a seat in the back of the lecture room. When Roberta Clarke finished performing her poem, people in the room snapped their fingers in appreciation, while others raised their hands and wiggled their fingers. Roberta turned a page in the book, waited for the sign language interpreter to signal she was ready, and began to read again.

Thalia closed her eyes and let Roberta’s words wash away the abysmal day she’d had. Lulled by her lilting accent, she was transported to a world filled with sparkling seas, warm sandy beaches, and gorgeous willing women.

Roberta finished reading to more finger snaps and silent applause. Thalia scanned the room. On the far side, near the front of the room, was a large stack of Roberta’s books for purchase and a table for her to sign them.

Thalia shifted in her seat as agitation surged in her gut. She would be lucky if she ended up in the middle of the line to have her book signed.

In the five years since her ex, Shelly, had sabotaged her plan to hear Roberta Clarke read, the poet had not been anywhere close enough for Thalia to attend. Thalia’s stomach growled loud enough the woman next to her shot her a disgusted look. Thalia rummaged in her bag as quietly as she could for a mint, to stave off more rumbling.

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Amari scowled at the scrape and bustle of a latecomer to the poetry reading. A mass of dark-brown curls caught her eye along with curves that no baggy work uniform could hide. Amari shifted in her chair and craned her neck to catch more than the cursory glimpse Thalia’s entrance had provided. When Roberta Clarke stopped reading and took a sip of water before she continued, Amari took advantage and left her chair to stand in the corner of the room in a place that offered a clear line of sight to Thalia.

She leaned back against the wall and fixed her gaze on Thalia. Roberta started reading again. Her rich tones provided a decadent soundtrack to Amari’s stealthy observations of Thalia. As Roberta continued to read, Thalia’s expressions revealed how Roberta’s words affected her.

A smile, a frown, longing, and then a twist of anguish as Roberta performed a poem of love lost, found, and lost again. Amari’s heart flipped a bit as she watched Thalia. So many layers to this woman. A woman unafraid to be exactly who she was at any given time. It was clear from her lateness and her sweat-stained work uniform Thalia had come straight from work to hear Roberta read.

A smidge of jealousy struck her as Thalia’s face reflected the effect of Roberta’s words. She had seen that look, been the target of it.

Seeing Thalia at the wedding and then again at her home, and then at Mel’s reading had disrupted Amari’s usual pattern of not indulging herself in more than one encounter with anyone she had met on Hit Me Up. It forced her to acknowledge that she wanted to have Thalia in her life as more than a casual hookup.

Amari sorted through her feelings as she observed Thalia. From the expression of sheer joy on her face once Roberta started reading, it was clear how much she enjoyed Roberta’s work. Thalia’s focus was absolute, her mouth slightly parted. Hunger and desire writ large in her expression. Transfixed, captured by Thalia’s presence, Amari chewed her lip as she watched.

A fondness rose up and, nipping at its heels, caring followed. Amari could care for Thalia, perhaps love her in time. A chill ran down Amari’s spine and a deep terror took hold of her. Unbidden, the memory of standing at Rebecca’s bedside and the searing pain of her death clawed at her heart. How could she risk her heart again? And Brianna’s. Too young to truly process the loss of her mother, she still had memories of the stitches caused by Riely.

Thalia’s eyes were closed as Roberta launched into her most famous work. Her breathing as much a part of the poem that followed the act of enticing a woman to her bed, losing herself in the act of worshiping the woman’s body, and then the culmination of their tryst.

As many times as Amari had read and heard Roberta’s words, they never failed to stir her. Thalia’s chest rose and fell, her face a mask of pleasure as she listened to Roberta’s voice. Desire, heady and rich, swept over Amari. She swallowed on a dry throat and wiped her damp palms on her pants.

Roberta ended her reading. Loud clapping and accolades filled the space and jangled Amari from her sexy daydream. She scanned the room seeking Thalia. She was bent over, rummaging in a bag at her feet. More. Amari wanted more than imagining Thalia in her bed. She pushed off the wall and strode toward Thalia’s chair.