Final Destination III Read Online Free PDF Page A

sketching his face from all angles—from his profile to a full-face frontal view of him with his dimpled smile. I was surprised by how well I captured his expressions—from his smug come-ons to his dreamy after-sex glow. Under each picture, I wrote his name, making fanciful “A’s” and drawing little hearts. I fought back tears. Damn it. I missed him. And wanted him so badly.
    At a little before six, Fernando stopped by my desk. I hastily flipped over my doodles. “Mí amor , let’s go out for a drink and celebrate Combat Wombats.”
    I hesitated, but then agreed. I could use a drink. The last twenty-four hours had been hell. I grabbed my messenger bag and skateboard and headed to the bank of elevators with Fernando. Fernando did an outrageous imitation of Catherine, strutting in her Chanel pumps with her head high in the air. My office buddy was already cheering me up.
    As we exited the entrance to the building, both laughing, I stopped dead in my tracks. He was there! Leaning against his Bentley, his arms folded across his broad chest. Dressed in the beige suit he was wearing when I first saw him at 30th Street Station. His piercing blue eyes met mine. My heart did a flip-flop and bolted to my throat.
    “Kiss me!” I begged Fernando.
    “What the fuck? I’m gay and committed.”
    “Just do it! I’ll explain later.”
    Without another word, Fernando wrapped an arm around me and crushed his hot Latino lips into mine. I placed a hand on his tight little ass. While the kiss did not go beyond lip contact, he was a damn good kisser. Except inside I felt nothing. There were none of the flutters and tingles that Ari’s kisses always evoked everywhere. I kept my eyes closed but could feel my Adonis’s eyes on me.
    I don’t know how long the kiss lasted. When Fernando finally pulled away, I blinked my eyes open and gasped. He was standing before us, overpowering us with all six-foot two of his erect body. His eyes were narrow, his lips pressed tight. He was angry. Very angry. My heart was thudding, and my stomach spasmed. I knew how jealous he could be.
    “So, Sarah, this is your boyfriend.” It was more of question than a statement, and the way he said my name was harsh. His icy eyes rammed into me like a glacier.
    “Yes, this is Fernando,” I stammered, sinking like the Titanic. Fernando played along with me. My stomach was in knots, and my legs were Jello.
    “Your Latin lover.” Ari clenched his fists so hard they turned white. He raised one, and suddenly I feared that he was going to knock Fernando out. I protectively jumped in front of my anxious friend.
    I looked Ari straight into his eyes. “If you try to hurt him, you’ll have to hurt me first.”
    “Then we’ll be even.” His words stung me.
    He held his fist in mid-air, then lowered it.
    Relief washed over me, and our eyes locked. Between my legs, moisture was pooling. My pantyless crotch was twanging, and my heart was hammering. I still wanted this gorgeous, mercurial god as much as I could ever want anyone.
    He stared at me icily. “Remember that little saying of yours, Saarah. ‘ The grass can’t compete with the trees.’ ” Without saying good-bye, he pivoted on his heel and stormed back to the Bentley. My eyes stayed glued on him as he got into the car and sped off.
    I felt sick. Nauseatingly sick. And on the verge of a tsunami of tears.
    “What was that all about?” asked Fernando.
    “I need a drink. I’ll explain everything.”

    The bar Fernando took me to was a neighborhood joint that was popular with the Toy District crowd. Fernando ordered us two frozen margaritas. I gulped down the refreshing frosty drink like it was soda pop and immediately ordered another.
    “Okay, chiquita, spill the beans.”
    The margaritas had loosened me up. I told Fernando about how I had met Ari and filled him in on my whirlwind romance, omitting the explicit sexual details. Except for the few he demanded to hear.
    “Oh, mí Sarahita, you are in