Love at First Sight Series Boxed Set: (Books 1-5) Read online

  I can see the intensity of her concentration as she bends her elbow and brings the utensil toward her pretty face. I find myself holding my breath while she holds her hand perfectly still, suspended in the air.

  Encouragingly, I say, “Finding your mouth is all about engaging your other senses. The aroma of the food becomes stronger the closer it gets to your nose. Use your sense of smell as a guide. Feel the heat from the food to help you gauge distance. Most importantly, rely on muscle memory. You’ve been feeding yourself for many years now. Relax, and picture yourself taking a bite as you always have. Your mind will remember the exact location of your lips. Trust your instincts, Aviana. They will never fail you.”

  She gives me a small nod, and I desperately want to kiss away all of her anxiety, consternation and fear. Like a pro, she brings the fork to her pretty, pouty lips and victoriously takes that first bite.

  Both of us breathe a sigh of relief.

  After chewing and swallowing, she beams. “I did it!”

  “Damn right you did. I’m proud of you, baby.”

  Her beautiful brown eyes grow even bigger and, once again, I’m reminded of how different she is from some others who have lost their sight. There’s no sign of blindness. No cloudiness in her irises. She doesn’t need to wear sunglasses to camouflage any ocular damage. Even sightless, her peepers are perfect.

  “You’ve just used your first endearment with me, Mr. Winslow.”

  I nervously clear my throat and curse inwardly. “Too soon? Or do you not like that one? I can always choose another, or I can call you Aviana. Or—”

  “Maybe you can stop prattling on like a silly school boy. I like what you called me. It took me by surprise, that’s all. I told you, I’m brand new to all this real-life love stuff.”

  “You’re easy to love.”

  She blushes and looks down at her lap. It’s a natural reaction to being embarrassed. Even though she can’t see me, she still has the impulse to break eye contact. When she speaks, her voice comes out in a soft whisper. “Do you truly love me, Gavin?”

  Reaching across the table, I take her hand in mine. “If you need me to label my feelings, I think I can do that.”

  She quickly pulls her hand from mine. “For a man who writes romance, that was one of the most horribly unromantic things you could have said.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, Aviana. I’m not a damn walking manuscript. I’m not like the heroes I write about. If you’re expecting one of them, you’re going to be disappointed.”

  She drops her fork and her full, luscious bottom lip begins to quiver. “Don’t say that, Gavin. Every book you’ve published has been like a love letter written straight from your heart to mine. Over the years, I’ve fallen in love with you one line at a time. Each hero has been a revelation of who you are.”

  I drop my head in defeat. “Oh, Aviana. I write fiction. My work is not autobiographical. It’s make-believe. I create characters who don’t exist and put them in situations that aren’t real. You believe in the stories because I’m really good at my job. I make magic, giving the reader a world of love and lust and a happily-ever-after to get lost in.”

  She sniffs. “So none of this is real? You don’t love me? And I’m in love with a man who doesn’t even exist?”

  Needing to be closer to her, I get up, make my way to her side of the table and sit down in the chair next to hers. She shifts to face me. I position myself with my legs wide, encompassing hers. Placing my hands on the tops of her thighs, I say, “Our attraction to each other is real. Your inability to see is real. My ability to help you deal with it is real. This delicious food that is quickly getting cold is real. Our hungry bellies are real. Let me feed you. Better yet, let’s feed each other and discuss the heavier stuff later, okay?”

  “I suppose talking things through on a full stomach is better than doing it on an empty one. So how does a blind girl feed a sighted man?”

  “Preferably with her fingers. I don’t want to be stabbed to death with a fork.”

  She giggles, and the knot in my stomach loosens a little.

  Chapter Nine

  Aviana Leif

  WE HAND-FEED EACH other every last morsel, licking and sucking the food from one another’s fingers until I think I’m going to die from wanting him. His sharp intakes of breath and deep groans come at intervals, telling me he is more than a little bit affected by the intimacy, too. However, he makes no move to kiss me or touch my breasts or any other part of me. He just maddeningly continues to behave like a perfect gentlemen throughout the entire meal, including a decadent cherry cheesecake for dessert.

  When we’re both full as ticks, he stands and begins to clear the table. Feeling disappointed in his lack of advances, I prop my feet up in the chair he has now vacated. To my surprise, he puts on some music. We listen to a playlist of rhythmic love songs while he loads the dishwasher. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was setting a seduction scene. The thing is, I don’t need any wooing. I’m his for the touching even if he doesn’t realize it yet.

  His footsteps are soft and quiet against the hardwood floor. He must have taken off his shoes at some point during dinner. When I feel the heat of his nearness, my skin peppers with goosebumps. His voice is rich and low and so sexy it melts my bones. “It’s been a long day. You must be tired, baby. We should get ready for bed.”

  I’m overcome with anticipation. It’s like a tiny, wild bird is trapped in my ribcage, furiously flapping its wings in an effort to escape. He takes me by the elbow, helping me out of my chair, and I say, “I bet you’re exhausted, too.”

  He yawns. “I could use some rest.”

  Guiding me across the room, he tells me about the interior of the house. “The kitchen and dining area leads into the living room via an adobe-colored archway where the hardwood floor morphs into slabs of speckled granite about three-feet wide. They serve as a boarder to the center of the room where the sofa and recliners are located. They sit on a larger square of hardwood flooring that’s a shade lighter than the oak finish in the kitchen.”

  I smile. “The mixture of textures and colors sounds lovely.”

  “The décor is simple, mostly earth tones with a few splashes of reds, yellows and blues from the furniture, throw pillows and an area rug. There are also a couple of bright, cheerful, water-color paintings on the wall. Just some seascapes, nothing fancy.”

  We take a few more steps when he says, “The high-beam ceiling gives the room a welcome, airy openness. The wall directly in front of you is nothing but a sequence of windows. I like a lot of natural light. To your right is a stone fireplace with a long, rectangular hearth and mantle. During the late fall and winter months, we’ll warm ourselves beside it while listening to the crackling embers and drinking huge mugs of hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows. How does that sound?”

  “Like heaven.”

  He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “The bedrooms—a master suite and two guestrooms—are on the second floor. For the sake of time and to save your energy, I’ll carry you up the steps,” he says, sweeping me off my feet.

  My arms automatically go around his neck as they had when he carried me down the stairs at the mansion. “Sleeping doesn’t take very much energy.”

  “No, but taking a shower does. I figured you might like to have one before bed.”

  “You figured wrong. I bathed this morning, and I’ve done nothing to get dirty or break a sweat since then.”

  “Okay. I was just trying to be hospitable and make you feel at home.”

  “What would make me feel at home is if you started acting more like a fiancé and less like a polite stranger.”

  I feel the muscles in his chest and arms bunch tensely around me. I probably shouldn’t be picking a fight with him so late in the evening, but I can’t help myself.

  “What sort of behavior are you expecting? What is it you want me to do, Aviana?”

  “I want you to kiss me. To take me to your bed and make mad, passionate love
to me.”

  He blows out a breath, and it softly flutters the fringes of my bangs. “How about we brush our teeth, figure out what you’re going to sleep in and go from there?”

  It’s only then I remember purposely leaving the mansion with nothing but the clothes on my back. I didn’t want to bring anything from my old life into my new one. “I can sleep in an old T-shirt if you have one or in nothing at all,” I say, winking and hoping he sees it. When it comes to flirting and basically everything else, this blindness shit really sucks.

  As if he can read my mind, he says, “I caught the cute wink, naughty girl. For the sake of my sanity and any possibility of sleep, we best put you in a T-shirt.”

  “Fine. But I’m not going to wear any panties beneath it.”

  “What if I order you to keep them on?”

  “Won’t do you any good.”

  “You’d disobey me?”

  “Definitely, but that’s not the reason.”

  “Then what is?”

  “I’m not wearing any to start with. Unless it’s my time of the month, I prefer to go commando.”

  “Good to know.”

  “How about you, hot stuff? Do you like to free ball it?”

  “Mercy, you’re a flirty, foul-mouthed woman. What am I getting myself into here?”

  “My pussy if you play your cards right.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to fold. The stakes are way too high.”

  I sigh heavily. “Not this again, Gavin. I can’t take any more of your secret-coded conversation. Just spill it already. Tell me why you don’t want to have sex with me.”

  My demand is met with silence as we enter the bathroom. He doesn’t announce our location, but I sense we are in a smaller, more confined space. He puts me on my feet, places a toothbrush in my hand and turns the water on. I can smell the minty-fresh toothpaste before tasting it. Recalling what he told me about muscle memory, I picture the process of brushing my teeth in my mind. With more ease than expected, I thoroughly and expediently finish my task without making a mess.

  Placing his big, warm hand against my low back, he finally speaks. “Our bedroom is on the right at the end of this long hallway. It’s exactly forty-seven steps from the bathroom door to the bedroom door. We’ll work more on this skill tomorrow. You’ll find counting your steps between rooms as well as between the furniture in each room will become paramount in your mobility. First thing tomorrow we’ll get you a cane. That will make moving about much easier. I won’t always be by your side as a human guide. You’ll need to depend on your cane to be your eyes.”

  I huff. “You’re already plotting your escape, are you?”

  “Truthfully, the thought of leaving you alone for even a second makes me sick to my stomach. Earlier, you asked me if I loved you. I had a hard time with that question because I’ve never been a big believer in love at first sight. I’ve always felt that love and trust go hand-in-hand. It takes time to build trust; vis-à-vis, it should take time to fall in love.”

  I smile sweetly and say, “I’ve trusted you completely from the moment we met. Before I went blind, I could see the loneliness and turmoil in your eyes. I was drawn to those wells of pain inside you because they’re inside me, too. I understand what it’s like to carry a heavy burden alone. Let me help you bear the load.”

  “Your intuition is strong and sadly accurate, but this isn’t your problem.”

  I furrow my brow in anger. “We’re going to be married, Gavin. Your problems are my problems.”

  “Yours are mine, too, baby. And at the moment, your needs are more important.”

  “That’s your opinion, and I’ll accept it for now,” I say, relaxing a little. “But only because I want to hear more about your feelings for me. If you’re not in love yet, what are you?”

  “All I can tell you is, when I saw you at the bookstore, it was the first time in my life I could breathe easy. When you walked out the door and into the night, my chest tightened right back up again.”

  I feel him take a deep breath before he continues. “The same thing happened at your father’s mansion this morning. When I walked into your bedroom, the air flowed in and out of my lungs freely. The second I walked away from you, I was suffocating again. People throw the word love around way too carelessly to suit me, Aviana. What I know right now without a doubt is, I care about you deeply. Your happiness and well-being is the most important thing to me. And, yes, I need you desperately, and I most definitely want you with me always. If those things are love, then I love you.”

  I spread my arms wide and say, “There he is folks—Mr. Romantic himself. How can you say you’re nothing like the heroes you write? The way you spoke to me is exactly the way your male characters would woo a woman. You have just made me fall even deeper in love with you, Gavin. And no matter how long it takes, I can wait for you to fall in love with me, too.”

  Chapter Ten

  Gavin Winslow

  I CAN’T TELL HER, but there’s no waiting to be done. I am as head-over-heels in love with her as a man can be. If I tell her how I truly feel, she’ll want us to have sex even more than she does now. And that would be a huge mistake. I’m not ready to risk hurting her in any way whatsoever.

  Slipping into bed beside Aviana, I wonder how in the hell I’m going to make it through this night without my balls exploding. My cock has been rock-hard and throbbing like crazy since I whisked her away from the Leif mansion and placed her in my car. I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the fact that she lives here with me now. It all feels like a dream. An amazing, wonderful, beautiful dream that I never want to end.

  As if she and I have been sharing a bed forever, I automatically spoon her. She snuggles deeper under the cover and pushes the delectable curve of her fine ass into my aching erection. In a sleepy voice, she says, “Please tell me why we can’t make love. Don’t you want me?”

  My heart squeezes in my chest. I really don’t want to talk about my sexual dysfunction with her tonight. She won’t understand how I can have a raging boner but not be able to fuck her senseless with it. How can I explain that the instant I attempt penetration, I’ll go limp as a noodle?

  Wrapping my arm around her waist, I rest my hand flat against her rounded tummy. God, I love a curvy woman. Correction: I love this curvy woman. When she pushes against me even harder, I say, “I want you more than you’ll ever know, baby. But I have some demons in my head when it comes to intercourse.”

  “What kind of demons?”

  “The kind that’s too hard to talk about when I’m exhausted.”

  “Will you tell me tomorrow after we’ve slept?”

  “Yes, I’ll tell you everything after breakfast, before I go pick up your clothes from the mansion.”

  She shakes her head, making her dark hair dance across the pillow. “I don’t want any of those clothes.”

  “Why not? You have a wicked wardrobe.”

  “How do you know?”

  “When I was in your bedroom, your closet door was open. I couldn’t help but notice rack after rack of designer jeans, blouses, dresses and shoes. I bet you have an inventory that would put Macy’s to shame.”

  “That’s why I don’t want them. Those fancy, expensive clothes represent a past and people I want to forget. When you took me away from the mansion, I felt free. Like my life with you is a fresh start.”

  “I can understand that. Tomorrow when I go get you a cane, I’ll pick you up a few outfits at the mall. Once you have something to wear, I’ll take you shopping, and you can pick out whatever other items you need. Okay?”

  She rolls over toward me. I close my eyes when she reaches out, touches my face and says, “You’re so sweet, Gavin Winslow. But if it’s all the same to you, I’d like for you to help me order my clothes online. I want to purchase outfits from Walmart and Target. No more fancy-schmancy designer duds for me.” She smiles, and her perfect teeth shine bright in the stream of moonlight from the bay window. “I happened to have my debit
card in the back pocket of my jeans when you scooped me up and pulled a Prince Charming.”

  “You don’t need to spend any more of your family’s money, Aviana. You’re my responsibility now. You belong to me. It’s my honor and duty to buy the things you want and need.”

  She softly caresses my cheek. “We’re not married yet, so technically you don’t have to dole out any dough. Besides, I have my million-dollar trust fund. I came into the money when I turned eighteen last month.”

  “That’s all yours, and you should save it or spend it on some sort of luxury item.”

  She lowers her tone to a mocking gruffness. “My money is my money, and your money is my money. Is that how it is?” she asks teasingly before returning to her naturally-feminine voice. “You are so old-fashioned, Mr. Winslow.”

  “Maybe I am, but I want to be clear about something from the get-go. You’re my woman, and I will provide for all your basic needs.”

  “Isn’t sex a basic need?” she asks, pressing me harder than I can handle at the moment.

  “I think that falls under the category of wanting, not needing,” I say patiently, kissing the tip of her cute little nose. “Now go to sleep. We can talk more about all of this in the morning.”

  AVIANA SCARFS DOWN HER pancakes and bacon with ease while I struggle to swallow a single bite. I promised to tell her about my sexual issues after breakfast, and now it’s time to make good on my word. Keeping my promises to her is just one of the many things I plan on doing for the rest of my life. Finding a safe way to show her how much I desire her is another. The best way to figure out how to proceed is to confide in her. To tell her my deepest, darkest secrets and fears. Maybe then, I can lay my demons of dysfunction to rest for good.

  Draining her glass of orange juice, she wipes her mouth and says, “Visualizing my plate as a wall clock really made breakfast go smooth as silk, didn’t it?”

  “Indeed. I’m proud of you, baby. You’re a quick study. If you’re ready to talk, we can go get comfortable on the sofa.”