16. Lyric
SIXTEEN
LYRIC
My heart thudded in my chest as I approached the brick building. Vaguely, I glimpsed a design painted on the whitewashed brick. But many of the old factories in this part of New York had large versions of their logos painted on them.
Jensen pulled out a key and unlocked the huge steel door and ushered me inside. The smell of clay and paint hit me and I instantly relaxed. It was a studio. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but this wasn’t it.
But it was ridiculously perfect.
We walked down a skinny hallway with steel shelves on either side full of various boxes of supplies I couldn’t name.
At the end of the hall, the room opened up and suddenly, lights flicked on. The space was massive with vaulted ceilings that had probably housed massive machinery once upon a time.
To my left was a banquet table full of trinkets, silk flowers, pottery, and glass containers in varying sizes. The table had been shoved against a wall of windows that climbed right to the ceiling and reflected black, thanks to the overhead lights.
The center of the room was empty, leaving a huge drop cloth as the first layer followed by thick quilts in dozens of faded colors. Huge pillows were scattered all around with fluffy, soft- looking blankets creating a cozy space. The room had a huge white wall decorated with white twinkle lights, creating a huge rectangle on the wall like a frame.
“What is this?”
“Well, technically, this is the studio I rented space at when I first moved here. I’m good friends with the owner.”
“It’s amazing.” I slipped off my coat and hung it on one of the weird benches circled around the table. I pointed to the table. “Is this like a study?”
“Yeah, life drawing is a good way to get your spatial techniques down pat. When I was a kid, I drew many flower vases.”
I laughed. “I didn’t see those in your notebook.”
“I’ve graduated to?—”
“Boobs?”
He chuckled. “They are my favorite things.”
“Is that right?”
He came up behind me, sliding his hands around my waist. He dropped a kiss on the nape of my neck. “But they aren’t the only things I love to draw.”
I let my head fall forward to give him extra room. I shivered at the light scrape of his teeth along my spine down to the collar of my sweater. He slipped his fingers under the hem and traced the calloused tips over my belly.
“Why do you always smell so good?”
“Showers are lovely things.”
He huffed out a laugh against my skin. “Pears. Crisp green ones.”
“I’m allergic to lavender and all its counterparts so my scents are limited.”
“Good to know.” He inched higher along my ribs. “Is this okay?”
I leaned back against his chest. “Yes.”
I was much happier with my choice of lingerie this time. Yesterday, I’d been wearing the most boring white cotton bra in my collection. While I wasn’t up to my sister’s standards when it came to the good stuff, I’d made sure to put on a matching pair at the very least.
He cupped my breasts, his thumbs sliding over the tips until they were so tight I couldn’t hold back the moan. “I didn’t bring you here only for this.”
“But this was on the menu?”
“If you knew how hard it was for me to walk away from you last night—you’d have your answer.”
“And yet, you didn’t bring me to your apartment.”
“I’m pretty sure you’d be very underwhelmed by my studio apartment and mattress on the floor.”
I laughed and turned in his arms, linking my fingers at the back of his neck. “Now that sounds like a twenty-two-year-old guy. Though most usually find at least a bed frame.”
“I know.” His neck reddened with embarrassment. “I’ve been working so much that I just crash there in between shifts.”
“This is nice. It’s like an elevated carpet picnic.”
“It’s not good enough for you, but I wanted you to see this place. And I have a projector so we can watch a movie.”
The sweetness of it made my chest burn. “It’s plenty good for me. Haven’t you heard that it’s the thought that counts?”
“Yeah, for pathetic attempts at macaroni art on construction paper.”
“I’m pretty sure you never did macaroni art.”
“Maybe not.” He drew me toward the blanket fort, grabbing the bags of food on the way. “But first, I’ll feed you.”
“I do appreciate that you are always feeding me.”
“Because I know you don’t eat much at work. And I like taking care of you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just followed him to the surprisingly soft setup.
He pulled out cartons of food as well as plastic containers of appetizers. I reached for the dumplings and a fork. I knew how to use chopsticks, but I didn’t need to drop food down my shirt at the moment, thanks.
Shrimp and pork lo mien as well as General Tso’s made my stomach growl with appreciation and anticipation. We dug in, each of us sharing and swapping cartons as he told me about Tom, the owner of this place.
The obvious affection he had for the man was loud and clear as he described the motley group of artists that came and went from this place.
He stretched out on his side after packing away three quarters of the food, then he reached for a bag of crunchy noodles. He created some spicy sauce concoction in one of the emptied dishes, then he dabbed his middle finger in it to taste.
My gaze tracked to his lips and my mouth watered. He grinned and dipped it again and held his hand out to me. “Taste?”
I leaned forward, licking the sauce off his finger. The heat made my eyes widen, but it bloomed fast and faded even faster.
He cleared his throat as he dropped his hand. “So, what do your parents do that they move around so much?”
“They’re musicians, actually.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”
I laughed. “My name is Lyric.”
He laughed. “Well, that’s true. Wow, would I know them?”
“Probably not. They’re pretty hardcore...” I trailed off and then giggled. “Country.”
“Oh.” He rolled onto his back with a laugh. “I was picturing Ozzy when you said hardcore.”
Imagining my dad with his shaggy black curls now with the purple John Lennon glasses Ozzy Osborne generally wore made the laughter bubble up even more. “More like Willie Nelson, to be honest. My mom sings and my dad plays the guitar. Their band changes a lot, but those two endure.” I stole one of his crispy noodles and dunked it. “I almost never know where they are. I have to check their website and that isn’t updated well at all.” I popped the noodle in my mouth.
“I was not expecting that. Okay, so what’s your sister’s name?”
“CJ.”
He grinned. “What’s that stand for?”
“She definitely would kill me if I told you.”
“That bad?”
“Not really, but she’s a programmer. It insults her logical brain.”
He rolled up to a seated position and stood. “I have something to show you.”
“I bet you do, but I figured the prone position would be how that started.”
He held out his hand. “We’ll get there.”
“That’s okay. I’m too full right now, anyway.” I let him pull me to my feet. He led me to the wall where the lights were. I’d been so focused on the quilts and pillows that I hadn’t noticed the large wooden piece of art on the wall.
I rushed forward when I realized it was Bell Flower Soaps. Jensen had used a large piece of particle board and spray painted it a flat black similar to A Place for All. It was unfinished, but the stark white line drawing of a honeycomb peeked in from the top left corner. Each of the hexagons dripped with honey. One drop had fallen onto the petals of a peony that filled the bottom half of the piece.
“I can’t believe how detailed you get.”
“I fought with that peony. It’s my gram’s favorite flower. I noticed that this company had a line of peony scents. If it doesn’t work for you or them, I can?—”
“Don’t you dare change it.” I turned to him. “It’s so perfect. I can’t believe how big this is. Your notebook was incredible but seeing it this huge is just...wow.”
“You make me feel amazing.” He brushed a curl away from my face.
“You are. There’s no doubt about how talented you are. How is this not your actual job?”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb sliding over my cheek. “I do have some commission work, but it’s not the easiest way to make a living. In between, I work at The Spinning Wheel and The Mason Jar to pay the rent.”
“But you were working at The Cove.”
“That’s pretty rare. I take those shifts whenever Jackson offers them though. Good tips.”
I twisted my fingers into the waffle texture of his shirt. “I’ve been there with the multiple jobs. My parents being musicians didn’t mean money, that was for sure. They are always on tour just to make enough money to live pretty much.”
“Did you go on the road with them?”
“When we were younger, yes. But neither of us were happy in that life and our parents simply loved one and another and the road more than they loved being parents. We actually ended up living with our aunt.” I made air quotes. “She was really my mom’s best friend at Juilliard.”
“Juilliard?”
“I know. Classically trained singer, that’s my mom. But she fell for my dad and fell for the country music that he loved so much. Aunt Polly took us in when I was 11 and my sister was 14. She lived in San Francisco.”
“And that’s why you lived there.”
“It was a great place. Culture and artistry combined. I fell in love with it all and went to school for art history. I loved learning about the different ways culture and art twined around each other.”
“And you never wanted to draw or paint or throw pottery?” He toyed with my hair until I was a moment away from purring.
“No, I have no talent at all. But I appreciate artists.” I picked up his hand and trailed my finger over the scars that webbed over his knuckles to the long, elegant fingers before I laced mine through his. “When you worked at Trick or Treat, I always noticed the paint on your clothes and the sides of your right hand. Like it had been stamped into your skin.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t come out no matter how much I scrub.” He stepped forward and slipped his knee between my legs until we were tangled like our fingers.
He was so damn big. Trying to reconcile the man I knew before and the one I was coming to know now was a bit disorientating. I drew his hand to my chest and unwound our fingers so I could lay it on my chest. “Even back then, I wondered what it would be like to have these hands on me. The rough tips on my skin.”
His dark eyes saw far too much, and they made me feel even more. “I am rough, there’s no doubt about that, Lyric.”
“I know. And it’s so sexy.”
He groaned. “I never thought you’d feel the same.”
“I shouldn’t. You have so much ahead of you, and I’m already?—”
“You do too, you know,” he said interrupting me, “A Place for All is your future. We’re both right in the middle of finding our places.”
“Maybe,” I whispered. Maybe if I just took a chance and let him inside. Not just my body, but into the lonely spaces that the fire had created inside of me.
My parents may not have been the most involved people, but they did love us in their way. My Aunt Polly had never ended up having children, but she’d welcomed us in without reservation.
Then the fire had changed me fundamentally. I still wasn’t quite who I’d once been. Maybe I never would be.
But here and now, I was with him.
I rose onto my toes and met him halfway. His fingers slid up my chest to lightly wreath my throat. He tipped up my chin with his thumb and I opened for him. He sipped from my mouth, drawing me ever closer until we wound around each other. He slipped his fingers around the back of my head to turn me where he wanted me.
I dipped my fingers under his shirt to find his red-hot skin underneath it. Silky hair above his jeans trailed off to smooth skin ridged with muscles. I kept searching under the cotton to his tight pecs that flexed under my touch. With my other hand, I pushed up the material. I tore my mouth away from his kiss to lick my way up each dip and quivering muscle.
Then the shirt was gone, and the magnificence of his upper body stole my breath. I coasted both hands over the planes of muscle. “So different than before the fire.”
“I didn’t want to be weak like that night ever again.”
My gaze darted up to meet his. “You were never weak.”
“I was.” His eyes glittered. “Absolutely useless that night.”
“You weren’t,” I whispered, cupping his face. “You were everything.”
He covered my mouth and lifted me up. Immediately, I wrapped my legs around his middle.
“If you stop this time, I’m going to be the one tying you to the radiator.”
He laughed against my mouth. “There’s no stopping tonight, Lyric.” He carried me across the room to the forest of pillows and blankets.
Gently, he placed me in the middle of all of it and knelt in front of me. He lifted one booted leg and unzipped it, then tossed the boot aside. He grinned as he peeled down the Snoopy and heart socks.
“What? They’re warm.”
He took the other foot and did the same, then he crawled up between my legs to unsnap my jeans. His breath was hot on my belly as he slowly peeled back each inch until he revealed my violet lace panties. He looked up, with his mouth right above where I needed him most. “Lift your hips.”
I lifted and he reached under me to tug my jeans over the curve of my ass. It took some doing with our position and these jeans were my tightest pair. We were laughing by the time he struggled them down my legs and tossed them over with my boots.
“Now, where was I?” He crawled back between my thighs.
I lifted my sweater enough to be able to see. “I believe you were right there.”
He lowered his mouth to the skin just above my panties and flicked his tongue just under my navel. “Here?”
I flung my arm over my head. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I definitely am.” He dragged his beard across my skin. “Push up your sweater, Lyric.”
“Like this?” Slowly, I shifted it higher.
“More.” He widened my thighs and hooked my knee over his shoulder, blowing lightly over the lace that shielded me.
I tugged up the sweater to the band of my matching bra.
He groaned and used his teeth to tug at the lace over my pussy, letting it go when I let my sweater drift back down. “Tease.”
I laughed. That was the first time anyone had called me that. Then he kissed me through the lace and my hips lifted instinctively.
“I need to see you.”
I rolled up enough to flip my sweater over my head.
“Fuck,” he said and tongued me through the lace.
“Not enough,” I mumbled.
“Bra. Now.” He brought his finger up to rub circles through the lace. “You’re so wet for me. You smell fucking delicious.”
I undulated my hips, restless for more.
“Bra, Lyric.”
I bowed my back enough to reach behind to flick open the catch. I could feel his dark gaze on me. And as my fingers slid away, I felt one of my scars and it dragged me out of the moment. I cupped my breasts to hide them, then I rolled my hips to the side to curl into myself.
Firmly, he pressed me into the quilt. “Lyric.”
I draped my arm across my face as my breath caught. Why would he want to see me naked?
God, this was a mistake.
“Lyric?” His voice was even and firm. “Look at me.”
I shook my head.
He moved up on top of me, settling his bulge against me. “Lyric, stay here with me. Feel me. Feel how much I want you.” He trailed his lips over my ribs to push the bra away. “Every part of you is beautiful. Every single one.” He licked the skin along the underside of my breast and then he covered my nipple and sucked.
I tightened my elbow over my face and couldn’t stop the moan from escaping.
“That’s right. Feel how much I want to touch every bit of you.” He cupped my other breast and tugged at my nipple until I arched up for him. “Don’t hide your face. Watch me taste you.”
He sucked harder and the pain of it slammed into pleasure. I needed to see his eyes. I let my arm fall away and met his gaze. Watched as he covered my breast with his mouth. His full lips latching onto me, his tongue lashing the sensitive tip until I cried out his name. “So sensitive.” He dragged his beard over the tip and his eyes dilated. “Can I make you come just tasting you here?”
“Jensen.”
“You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” His fingers coasted over my belly to the elastic of my panties. Then he took my nipple again and I arched up. “So, you don’t want me to?”
“Please.”
“Please what?”
“Fucking touch me.”
Lightly, he bit down on my nipple and tugged.
“Now who’s the tease?” I reached down to grab his hair and pulled him up to meet my mouth. I bit his full lower lip and was rewarded by a deep kiss that made my toes curl.
He braced himself on his forearms and ground his hips into mine. “We’ve got nothing but time,” he said against my mouth. “And I am a very patient man.”
I squirmed under him, trying to get him right where I wanted him. Instead, he pressed down on me, but he didn’t give me the friction I was longing for.
“You done?”
I tugged his hair and gave him a death glare when he just laughed.
“I want to savor this.”
“Can you savor the next round?”
He lowered his head to my neck as he swirled his tongue along the scarred edge of my jaw.
I stilled under the touch.
“You’ll need to get used to me touching you. Especially your scars.” His lips were gentle as he learned the texture of me there. Everything slowed right down, and I couldn’t separate what he was doing there and how he lightly rocked his hips between my legs.
The pressure and the sweetness made my head fuzzy and as if he’d somehow crossed the wires inside me.
Then he moved to my shoulder. His lips coasted over the curve there, then he swung back to my collar bone. He moved lower to my breast again, inching his body down mine. Then the pressure was gone, ramping up the restlessness.
He worshipped my breasts for a moment. Slow, soft touches before he resumed his trip downward. He dragged his beard along the hollow of where my ribs led to my lower belly and finally, he peeled back my panties.
His breath hot on my sensitive skin before he finally licked me lightly.
I hissed and bowed up, trying to tell him where I needed him. He took the opportunity to dig his fingers under my ass and grip me firmly. Then he grinned up at me before covering me so completely I forgot to breathe.
The sounds of his mouth on me, the explicit wetness, and just how intimate it was to have him there, left me stalled out in the liminal space between lust and release.
He tore his mouth away from me and the jarring loss of it jerked me into the now. “Stop thinking. Just be here with me.”
I slid my fingers into his hair. “I am. I promise.”
As he lifted me to his mouth, my hips tipped up, my legs splayed.
There was nowhere to hide.
Our eyes locked as he swirled his tongue around my clit then he pulled a hand free and dipped two fingers into me. The fullness and his incessant tongue, along with the way he watched me helped me be brave.
I cupped my breast, emboldened by his intense dark gaze greedily watching. He thrust deeper, twisting until I was a writhing mess.
I called his name. As if it was exactly what he needed, he crawled up my body to cover my mouth, his fingers ripping at the zipper of his jeans.
I reached between us, helping him. The cotton and denim frustrated both of us until finally, I got my hand around the base of him. He growled in my mouth, pushing himself into my hand.
He pulled away, getting up on his knees to get to his wallet.
With shaking fingers, he unearthed a condom.
My legs were draped open over his thighs. My eyes locked on the strong length of him. The flared head of him dripping with need for me.
I wanted to scramble up and take him in my mouth.
To taste him like he tasted me, but I was still so unsure of myself.
He watched me as he quickly shucked off his jeans, then he slid down the latex. His jaw was flexing with need, a dangerous air to him now.
Jensen dragged me closer to him. “I’m all the way on the edge right now. Tell me to stop if you need me to stop.”
Knowing he wanted me so desperately beat back some of the fear that started creeping back inside me.
I inched forward myself, rolling up to a seated position instead of playing it safe.
Instead of being the passive participant.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and rose up enough for him to drag his cock through my wetness. His eyes were so intense. So completely locked on mine.
I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I knew I needed to be the one to take the first step.
I raked my nails through the short hairs along the back of his head, then lifted my hand to palm the top of his head as slowly, I lowered myself on top of him.
Trusting that he’d hold onto me.
At least in this moment.
That he wouldn’t let me go.
He filled me so completely that my breath whooshed out with a cry. It had been so long since someone had been fully a part of me like this.
Well before the fire.
Maybe never.
He flexed up his hips as if he could get even deeper.
It seemed impossible, but I widened my legs, and he did. I held onto his shoulders as he pulsed inside of me.
Gave me everything.
Sweat slicked between us, the room fell away, even sound fell away. It was just his gaze on mine, his body invading mine.
“More,” I said against his mouth.
He gripped my hips. I could feel how tense he was. “Lyric.”
“More.” I breathed in his breath. Breathed in his bravery. “Everything.”
Then his hips snapped up and I cried out his name in a litany of prayer or exultation, I didn’t know.
He drove into me like he couldn’t get enough.
As if there was something deep inside me that he needed, that had been missing for all time.
Then he wrapped around me, and we crashed back onto the quilts and blankets. He wrenched my leg up along his thigh and powered into me with all the pain that had been living inside him.
I knew, because I recognized it in me.
And I finally let go.
Accepted that this was where we were going the whole time.
And I broke. The sob and the scream of release slammed together like a thunderstorm inside of me. Then he was so close to me. On top of me as if he couldn’t stand any space.
I shook around him, accepted the force of his anger and loss and renewal all wrapped up in one final thrust before he crashed down on me. His heart was racing, and my name was a sigh as he finally relaxed, letting me hold him.
As I let him hold me right back.