Chapter 8
8
Sexcapades a n d Pastries
E va stopped in the hall outside her apartment. The hairs on the back of her neck rose at the music coming through the door. As she listened, she recognized the chords and melody Ash was outlining between tasteful embellishments.
“My Funny Valentine”—the classic jazz ballad. The way he was playing it reminded her of the Chet Baker version. It was heartrending. Soulful. Melancholic. It made her want to laugh and weep and make love all at the same time.
She wanted to hear better. Coffees and pastry bag balanced in one hand, she opened the door as quietly as she could, intent on not disturbing him. The piano was angled away from the door, and she managed to slip in unnoticed.
Ash was hunched over the keys like a regular brooding Beethoven, still shirtless, his sleek black hair falling down his back. She sighed in appreciation.
How was he real? He had to be too good to be true because otherwise he would have been snatched up by some smart woman a decade ago.
The dreamy music continued to serenade her, reaching deep inside and wrapping its sorrowful melody around her heart until tears pricked at her eyes.
She tried to be quiet as she kicked off her shoes, but apparently, he hadn’t been kidding about his hearing being good because he instantly stopped playing and spun around on the bench, spine ramrod straight. The air felt hollow without the music.
He relaxed as soon as he saw her, but she hadn’t missed the dangerous glint in his eye for that split second, and honestly, it scared her. Something told her he was not the kind of guy who liked being snuck up on, or ever allowed it to happen, for that matter.
“I’m back,” she said to cover the empty silence. “Sorry if I startled you, but I didn’t want you to stop. I love that song. That was so beautiful.”
He shrugged, climbing off the bench and coming over to take the coffee and pastries from her. “I was just messing around.”
“That’s some pretty epic messing around.” She wanted to ask him if his “messing around” always made people want to cry but decided against it. Instead, she said, “Do it again? I’d love to try and play along on my violin.”
He’d already lifted one of the coffees halfway to his mouth, but his eyes lit up at that, and he set it back down without taking a sip. “Okay.”
She had to grin. The guy really loved music.
Too good to be true , that stupid little negative voice warned.
Shut up , she told it. She wasn’t missing out on this for the world.
Half an hour later, they had jammed the hell out of “My Funny Valentine,” and the music came to its natural conclusion. Ash put his hands in his lap, and she lowered her violin, and they stared at each other in silence.
Her heart felt achy from the music and yet was racing at the undeniable fact that she had incredible musical and physical chemistry with a man for the first time in her life. Yeah, the circumstances were questionable, but she’d never felt connected to someone this way before. She was powerless to resist.
He seemed to get her line of thinking because he rose from the bench and crowded her up against the side of the piano. Their gazes met.
“Eva.” It came out like a growl.
“Ash.” Hers came out like a sigh.
A mischievous glint suddenly entered those midnight-blue eyes. “I never did fuck you on the piano last night.”
Her entire female reproductive system lit up like a carnival parade. Like she had a freaking “Turn me on!” button on her forehead for a ride that only he could operate.
She took two steps, practically tossed her violin onto the couch, and then turned and sprinted into her bedroom where she had a condom stash in the nightstand. She grabbed one, raced back into the living room, and threw it at him. His bewildered expression vanished as he caught it, and then he looked like he might laugh, but she didn’t give him a chance because she threw herself at him next.
He caught her, bent down, and crushed their mouths together. And then it was like they hadn’t already had sex ten times, because suddenly they were desperate to get closer. She ripped her clothes off and panted while she watched him shove his jeans down and kick them away, and then their naked bodies were pressed together, and their tongues were back to more wrestling antics. Ash’s big hands encircled her butt cheeks and gripped them hard enough to lift her off her feet.
“Your ass is so fucking fine,” he growled against her lips.
She could only moan as he ground his hard-on against her while she dangled in the air from his grip on her behind. She went to wrap her legs around his hips, but he stopped her.
He set her on her feet, gripped her hips, and spun her around.
Her eyes widened as he lifted her again and then laid her on her stomach on top of the piano. Her legs hung over the edge, not quite reaching the ground. She dangled helplessly with her ass in the air, completely at his mercy.
He spanked her. She yelped at the sting and felt another flood of wetness between her thighs in response.
Whoa. Apparently, she was into spanking, though she hadn’t known it until right then. He pried her legs apart with a firm grip, thumbs on her inner thighs, so close to where she was desperate for his touch.
Splayed out on the piano, her palms pressing into the cold wood, she peeked over her shoulder and watched him hunch down as if he was going to eat her out. She moaned in anticipation, but he surprised her again.
He bit her ass.
He actually bit her right on the ass. And she freaking loved it. Hell, she nearly came just from seeing his white teeth digging into her ass cheek. Who knew she was such a dirty girl?
She no longer wanted him to eat her out. She wanted fucking. Hard, fast fucking.
“Please!” And no, she wasn’t above begging for it.
He straightened, and there was a moment of painful anticipation while he put on the condom. The cold air on her bare ass made her feel exposed and somehow even more turned on. And then, lord have mercy, his thick cock was nudging at her entrance, and she nearly cried from gratitude at the feel of him filling her.
And fill her he did. He stretched her wide, but it was just the right amount, just what she needed, and yet not enough because he wasn’t moving, damn it—
He got the memo on that, and his hips punched forward as he bottomed out inside her. He withdrew and then pushed deep again. He fucked her hard, pounding into her while she was sprawled across the top of the piano, screaming like a banshee and loving every second of it.
He reached over her, palms landing on top of hers, holding her hands down. His legs spread inside hers, prying hers wide open.
She couldn’t move an inch. She was totally and completely dominated by him, powerless to do anything but feel as he filled her up and fucked her into oblivion.
She screamed as she reached her peak, and next thing she knew, Ash was coming too, and she nearly climaxed again at the feel of all his strength channeling into her at his moment of total release.
They stayed sprawled on the piano for at least five minutes without talking. She couldn’t find words, or even form thoughts, to describe what had just happened. Her mind was blank, her body humming with endorphins.
“Holy shit,” was the first thing that came out of her, and by his satisfied chuckle, she could tell he agreed.
He straightened, pulled out, and walked to the kitchen to throw out the condom. She watched him, still draped wantonly over the piano, not caring at all. He looked over from behind the island and smiled at the sight of her. Lifting his hands, he mimicked the shape of a camera and snapped an imaginary picture. “Perfect.”
They ended up sitting on the floor by the windows, eating pastries, drinking coffee, and listening to Oscar Peterson—naked.
Eva had always been a bit self-conscious—she was one of those short and thick types, with a booty that needed special big-assed-woman pants to fit in—but Ash made her feel delicate and feminine. He looked at her the way she looked at chocolate cake, which had to be a good thing.
It was a simple moment. Neither of them spoke much, content to listen to Oscar’s sultry piano melodies, and the silence was comfortable. She felt so relaxed and connected to him, more than she’d ever felt with another person.
I really hope this isn’t one-sided.
Hallucinations or not, it wouldn’t take much for her to fall for him. And she was pretty sure it had been a hallucination. She’d found nothing unusual about him besides his mysterious past, and it wasn’t unreasonable to assume she’d imagined what she’d seen, resulting from the severe stress of the gunfire. It was what any therapist would say, as her mother had pointed out.
As for her mom’s opinion, well, Jacqui was always looking for magic where there was just everyday, black-and-white normalcy. It made her a great artist, but Eva knew she shouldn’t take anything she said too literally.
She’d just dusted off the last bite of croissant when a phone rang. It wasn’t Beethoven’s Fifth, so it wasn’t hers.
With a groan, Ash climbed to his feet, and she watched his sexy ass move as he crossed the room to grab his pants and pull his phone out of the pocket. “Yeah?”
God, his hair. What man had hair like that? When he stood straight, it brushed those biteable ass cheeks. All that shiny black against his lighter skin tone... He was a freaking work of art.
“Fuck you. I’m not doing shit for you.”
She snorted. He was obviously talking to his brother.
“I’m not—” He made a frustrated growl. “I told you not to call me unless it was life or death. This isn’t life or death and therefore is not my probl— Bel. Shut the fu— Bel!” He jerked the phone away from his ear with a wince, and she could hear his brother’s shouting from where she sat. “Shit.”
He hung up, glanced apologetically at her, and then dialed another number. “It’s me. Bel is having a rage attack. You need to get back to the apartment before he burns it down.”
Eva blinked.
“I don’t give a shit where you are. Damn it, Raum, don’t even thi—”
Ash looked at the phone and growled. “Motherfucker hung up on me.” He dialed a new number. “Meph. Bel is raging out and Raum’s being a dickhead. You need to get home now. I don’t care that you’re at the gym.” Ash tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Fine, I’ll come. Fuck you. See you soon, asshole.”
He hung up, looked at Eva as if just remembering she was there, and winced. “My brothers are fu— uh, really annoying.”
She laughed. “I don’t care about your potty mouth, but damn, you’d better never let my grandmother hear you talking like that.”
“It’s not my fault. I’m surrounded by bad influences.” His smile faded. “I have to go.”
“I guessed by that interesting conversation.”
He shook his head. “My brothers can’t do shit without me there holding their hands. With the way they’re acting, you’d think this was their first trip to Ear—” He cleared his throat. “Uh, away from home.”
Had he been about to say Earth? She briefly entertained her alien theory again and then discarded it. Nah. That was crazy. “It’s okay. I know how it is with the family stuff. Mine can be a handful too sometimes. They annoy you but you love them, right?”
“Love?”
“Uh, yeah.”
His mouth twisted like he’d tasted something foul. He may have been better at sex than any man alive, but he was still really freaking weird.
Oh, well. A girl couldn’t have it all.
A few minutes later, they were dressed and approaching what was sure to be an awkward goodbye by the door. After donning his jacket, Ash bent to lace up his boots, hair falling over his face like a curtain. She stared at him, trying to think of something to say and coming up blank.
He straightened and swept his hair back. “Thanks for last night, Eva.”
She panicked inwardly. He’s never going to call. He’s going to walk out that door, and I’m never going to see him again. She wanted to beg him to stay, but she was a strong fucking woman, damn it.
She squared her jaw and waited for the inevitable brush off. “No problem.”
He searched her gaze. Here we go. He’s going to give me some bullshit excuse about how he’s busy and doesn’t have time for a relationship.
“I want to see you again.”
She blinked.
“Is that...” He winced. “Is it abnormal to say that? I don’t know how to do this shit, and Bel told me I should leave without making promises to make you think I wasn’t interested.”
She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing. “Your brother is a huge dick.”
He snorted. “Yeah. He is.”
“And to answer your question, no. It’s not ‘abnormal.’ Actually, I’m glad you said it because if you didn’t, I was going to stew about how much of a dick you were until you called me.” Damn it, that sounded a little desperate.
“You want me to call you?”
“Uh, yeah.” She tried to play it cool. “You were inside me like, an hour ago. A girl usually hopes for a phone call after that.”
His gaze darkened. “I want to be inside you again.”
Her lady parts did that clenching thing again. “I want that too.”
“Fuck. I’ll call you.”
“Yeah. Do that.”
He shook his head, and his I-want-sex look vanished. She mourned its loss. “I have to warn you, though. I’m not—” His gaze shifted away. “My life’s not exactly stable right now. If I don’t call, it’s not because I don’t want to. But I will if I can.”
“I’m a big girl. You don’t have to make any promises.” She talked a big game, but her heart sank a little.
“I’m glad we met, Eva.”
“Me too.”
The corner of his mouth curved, and then he pulled open the door and was gone.
Alone, she spun around and faced her empty apartment, feeling bereft and lonely and then annoyed because it was way too soon for those kinds of feelings. For any kinds of feelings, for that matter.
The apartment seemed too quiet, though, and she suddenly realized she hadn’t seen Thelonious once all day. He was probably hiding under her bed, which was odd because normally he liked new people. She was convinced he showered them with affection in an attempt to make her jealous.
Her phone rang—dun dun dun dunnn —and she ran to grab it off the kitchen counter, glad for the distraction. She grinned when she saw Skye’s name.
“What is this I hear about you leaving Bootleg with a hot guy last night?” her friend shouted before Eva could get a word out.
She thought of her advice to Skye— If you want him to stick around, you’ve got to make him work for it —and burst out laughing.
Talk about hypocritical. She hadn’t come close to following her own lofty advice. And now here she was in her best friend’s shoes, wondering if the guy was ever going to call her again.
Karma was a bitch.