Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
L eah had no idea what memories Avi was processing as they walked through his childhood home, but seeing his bedroom had rattled him.
Her ask, she hoped, gave him an excuse to put it aside. They entered the master bedroom, fairly utilitarian. But the master bathroom?
“Who would’ve thought a cantor would be living so large?”
He let out a long, low whistle. “Oh, I am sure this work of art is all my stepmom.”
“Putting those proceeds from the childhood bedroom museum to good use,” Leah humored him. It really was a masterpiece, but the star was the bathtub; like something from a home renovation show. Sunken, spacious, promising luxurious jets and warm bubbles.
Avi leaned against the doorframe. “We have time, you know. If you want to soak.” His voice was calm, but there was something about the way his eyes held hers.
“Avigdor Meir ben Yosef! In what alternate reality?”
Leah looked longingly back at the tub. It was oversized and sunken, with all sorts of fancy-looking bath products along the wide tiled rim. It would be nice to really clean up. Smell less like a French fry when she met investors on the boat. Wash her hair.
Judging from the labels, she’d say Avi’s stepmother was a curly girl herself.
Avi followed her gaze. “Those guys held afternoon prayers way early with my dad and the rabbi not around. I say…you soak a half hour, then I’ll shower. We’ll get dressed up and on the road like normal people, heading into town on a Friday with evening plans. Jacobsdale’s a bedroom community now, Letty. Tons of people commute to the city for work daily now. It’s only two hours.”
“You know…you’re very rational for a rock star.” Leah arched a brow. “And how do you know so much about optimal tub soaking time?”
“It’s basically a hot tub. Rock stars know, and love, their hot tubs. Plus, I saw what happened to your hands after squeezing wet potatoes…you prune, girl.”
She laughed, although the memory of Avi at the JCC cafeteria table, taking her palm and kissing it, sobered her quickly.
“Or you could soak with me…if it’s basically just a hot tub.” She swallowed hard. “Room enough for two.”
Avi froze. His brows lifted, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Just to be clear,” he said slowly. “To make sure you’re sure. It’s gonna be a hot tub, without suits.”
“With jets and bubbles going, I won’t even see you.” Her heart pounded harder, the more she tried keeping her tone casual. “I just ask you give me a five minute head start.”
He nodded, face not easy to read. “Time enough to check if any of my old clothes still fit.”
Avi knew exactly how to wait five minutes – but these minutes felt longer than he had had to endure in the rest area without a phone or clock to keep track. He did exactly what he’d done to kill time then: he paced his bedroom and counted to sixty in his head as calmly as he could, five times.
Then he knocked on the door.
“All clear,” she called.
Not exactly the case. The room was humid and lavender-scented.
But it felt like a haven.
Leah lay back against a tiny shell-shaped bath pillow, covered to her neck in bubbles and hair turbaned in a towel.
“You don’t have to close your eyes, Gellman.”
“It helps me think logistics. What are we going to do with all the wet towels?”
These were the logistics she was thinking of? How to be a gracious – or stealth – houseguest? He was just trying not to cream his track pants at the sight of one bare knee, bubbles sliding off it as she raised it.
“Cleaning service,” he said gruffly, although he really had no idea. “My stepmom would break a nail lifting a finger. I’m sure they’re on a weekly schedule.”
He quickly stripped, leaving his road-worn clothes in a pile on the radiant-heated floor. “Ready for me?”
She nodded, shifting slightly. Eyes finally opening when she felt the water settle back down.
“Hell yeah, good call.” He let his body drift down on the opposite side of the rectangular tub. The water, a perfect temp as he immersed to his chin, then tipped his head back.
Leah chased a cloud of foam with a cupped hand, drawing it closer to her. The tattoo at her collarbone kept playing peek-a-boo, so sexy.
He sat up a bit, sopping curls plastered to his shoulders. His long legs stretched underwater on either side of hers. He bent them, careful not to touch her but damn, how he wanted to.
“Rugelach for your thoughts…oh wait. No rugelach.” He sent a splash toward her, causing a shriek. “So the doctor is off your list?”
“He was never really on it. Doctors aren’t my type. Long hours, God complex, married to their profession…”
The same could be said for musicians, he thought grimly.
“Worst of all, no leather pants.”
She bit back a smile, sliding toward him, hooking an arm around his calf. He leaned to meet her mouth, hungry and hot. She fully initiated the kiss, picking up where his lips had left off last night, that single kiss by the bunkbeds.
“I didn’t tell you sooner…” Her wet fingers met his soapy shoulders, sliding into his hair with her nails. “…but I wanted to.” He growled against her, lips trailing down her chin, her throat. He didn’t need any excuses. She tipped her head, upsetting the balance of the thick, twisted towel securing her hair. Avi caught it before it tumbled into the water, tossing it aside.
“There she is,” he breathed. The damp ringlets fell around her face as her gaze locked on his. “I remembered those curls, even if I forgot other things.”
He wound a long curl around his finger, traced it across the tattoo, down to her breast. She gasped and her nipple instantly pearled. Bubbles unveiled her slowly, as she leaned into his touch.
“Wanna see my room again?” he whispered, and she nodded.
He thought about how he’d learned about sex, his dad not even bothering to give him the talk but instead, a book about intimacy from a Jewish lens. Talk about letters dancing on the page. It had been a word salad, tossing around in his dyslexic brain for days before he finally just asked Miri. They could talk about anything, no holds barred.
She’d told him “Always be attentive and responsive to her needs. I’m talking emotional and intimate. It’s actually a mitzvah to please her first, Velvel.”
And like the good Jewish boy that he was, that’s exactly what he did.
Leah watched Avi sleep for a while. His brow smooth, lips parted. He deserves a little sleep.
They had tumbled in towels toward his bedroom. Drying each other off became another way to explore, lavishing attention on each other’s hot skin.
“I’m not going to last long, not in here, not with you,” he’d warned, letting her push him against the sheets as she traced every tattoo with her fingers and her mouth.
Tobin’s wallet had been like a magic genie’s lamp once again as he pulled a condom from it, laughing when he assured her he had checked the date on it.
“Let’s be sure to thank him later.”
“Much later. I need my Mahjong Muse on the altar of my shrine.”
Mahjong Muse.
And that was it: her business name. It was perfect, and she couldn’t wait to tell Jasmine. But she happily would wait, for now, as he’d pulled her on top of him.
Her “ideas guy” had had bigger plans for her.
Now, she set her alarm for a fifteen-minute catnap before turning to him again. It was almost imperceptible in the dim light of his room, but she caught tiny movement under closed eyelids. The even keel of his breathing. Her fingers climbed lightly up his chest, into that dark thicket of hair, and she settled her cheek against his shoulder.