Lick: Stage Dive 1 (8 page)

I kept quiet. For all of about a minute. My mind was wide awake and babbling at me. “I think I understand a little better now how we ended up married.”

“Do you?” He turned his head to face me.

“Yes.” I’d never been kissed like that before. “I do.”

“C’mere.” A strong arm encircled my waist, dragging me into the centre of the bed.

“David.” I reached for him with a nervous smile. More than ready for more kisses. More of him.

“Lie on your side,” he said, his hands maneuvering me until he lay behind me. One arm slipped beneath my neck and the other was slung over my waist, pulling me in closer against him. His hips fit against my butt perfectly.

“What are we doing?” I asked, bewildered.

“Spooning. We did it that night for a while. Until you felt sick.”

“We spooned?”

“Yep,” he said. “Stage two in the memory rehab process, spooning. Now go to sleep.”

“I only woke up an hour ago.”

He pressed his face into my hair and even threw a leg over mine for good measure, pinning me down. “Bad luck. I’m tired and I wanna spoon. With you. And the way I figure it, you owe me. So we’re spooning.”

“Got it.”

His breath warmed the side of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

“Relax. You’re all tense.” His arms tightened around me.

After a moment, I picked up his left hand, running the pads of my fingers over his calluses. Using him for my fidget toy. The tips of his fingers were hard. There was also a ridge down his thumb and another slight one along the bottom of his fingers where they joined the palm of his hand. He obviously spent a lot of time holding guitars. On the back of his fingers the word Free had been tattooed. On his right hand was the word Live. I couldn’t help but wonder if marriage would impinge on that freedom. Japanese-style waves and a serpentine dragon covered his arm, the colors and detail impressive.

“Tell me about your major,” he said. “You’re doin’ architecture, right?”

“Yes,” I said, a little surprised he knew. I’d obviously told him in Vegas. “My dad’s one.”

He meshed his fingers with mine, putting the kibosh on my fidgeting.

“Did you always want to play guitar?” I asked, trying not to get too distracted by the way he was wrapped around me.

“Yeah. Music’s the only thing that ever really made sense to me. Can’t imagine doing anything else.”

“Huh.” It must be nice, having something to be so passionate about. I liked the idea of being an architect. Many of my childhood games had involved building blocks or drawing. But I didn’t feel driven to do it, exactly. “I’m pretty much tone deaf.”

“That explains a lot.” He chuckled.

“Be nice. I was never particularly good at sports either. I like drawing and reading and watching movies. And I like to travel, not that I’ve done much of it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.”

He shifted behind me, getting comfortable. “When I travel it’s always about the shows. Doesn’t leave much time for looking around.”

“That’s a pity.”

“And being recognized can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Now and then, it gets ugly. There’s a fair bit of pressure on us and I can’t always do what I want. Truth is, I’m kind of ready to slow things down, hang out at home more.”

I said nothing, turning his words over inside my head.

“The parties get old after a while. Having people around all the damn time.”

“I bet.” And yet, back in LA he’d still had a groupie hanging off him, cooing at his every word. Obviously parts of the lifestyle still appealed. Parts that I wasn’t certain I could compete with even if I wanted to. “Won’t you miss some of it?”

“Honestly, it’s all I’ve done for so damn long, I don’t know.”

“Well, you have a gorgeous home to hang out in.”

“Hmm.” He was quiet for a moment. “Ev?”

“Yeah?”

“Was being an architect your idea or your dad’s?”

“I don’t remember,” I admitted. “We’ve always talked about it. My brother was never interested in taking up the mantle. He was always getting into fights and skipping class.”

“You said you had a tough time at high school too.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” I wriggled around, turned over so I could see his face. “I don’t usually talk about that with other people.”

“We talked about it. You said you got picked on because of your size. I figured that’s what set you off with my friends. The fact that they were bullying that girl like a pack of fucking school kids.”

“I guess that would do it.” The teasing wasn’t a subject I liked to raise. Too easily, it bought back all of the crappy feelings associated with it. David’s arms didn’t allow for any of that to slip through, however. “Most of the teachers just ignored it. Like it was an extra hassle they didn’t need. But there was this one teacher, Miss Hall. Any time they started in on me or one of the other kids she’d intercede. She was great.”

“She sounds great. But you didn’t really answer my question. Do you want to be an architect?”

“Well, it’s what I’ve always planned to do. And I, ah, I like the idea of designing someone’s home. I don’t know that being an architect is my divine calling, like music is for you, but I think I could be good at it.”

“I’m not doubting that, baby,” he said, his voice soft but definite.

I tried not to let the endearment reduce me to a soggy mess on the mattress. Subtlety was the key. I’d hurt him in Vegas. If I was serious about this, about wanting him to give us another go, I needed to be careful. Give him good memories to replace the bad. Memories we could both share this time.

“Ev, is it what you want to do with your life?”

I stopped. Having already trotted out the standard responses, extra thought was required. The plan had been around for so long I didn’t tend to question it. There was safety and comfort to be had there. But David wanted more and I wanted to give it to him. Maybe this was why I’d spilled my secrets to him in Vegas. Something about this man drew me in and I didn’t want to fight it. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“That’s okay, you know.” His gaze never shifted from mine. “You’re only twenty-one.”

“But I’m supposed to be an adult now, taking responsibility for myself. I’m supposed to know these things.”

“You’ve been living with your friend for a few years, yeah? Paying your own bills and doing your classes and all that?”

“Yes.”

“Then how are you not taking responsibility for yourself?” He tucked his long dark hair behind an ear, getting it out of his face. “So you start out in architecture and see how you go.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“It is. You either stick with that or try something else, see how it works for you. It’s your life. Your call.”

“Do you only play guitar?” I asked, wanting to know more about him. Wanting the topic of conversation to be off me. The knot of tension building inside me was not pleasant.

“No.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—he knew exactly what I was about. “Bass and drums, too. Of course.”

“Of course?”

“Anyone passable at guitar can play bass if they put their mind to it. And anyone who can pick up two sticks at the same time can play drums. Be sure to tell Mal I said that next time you see him, yeah? He’ll get a kick out of that.”

“You got it.”

“And I sing.”

“You do?” I asked, getting excited. “Will you sing something for me? Please?”

He made a noncommittal noise.

“Did you sing to me that night?”

He gave me a small pained smile. “Yeah, I did.”

“So it might bring back a memory.”

“You’re going to use that now, aren’t you? Anytime you want something you’re going to throw it at me.”

“Hey, you started it. You wanted to kiss me for scientific purposes.”

“It was for scientific purposes. A kiss between friends for reasons of pure logic.”

“It was a very friendly kiss, David.”

A lazy smile lit his face. “Yes, it was.”

“Please sing me something?”

“Okay,” he huffed. “Turn back around then. We were in spoon position for this.”

I snuggled back down against him and he shuffled closer. Being David’s cuddle toy was a wonderful thing. I couldn’t imagine anything better. Pity he was sticking with the scientific rationale. Not that I could blame him. If I were him, I’d be wary of me.

His voice washed over me, deep, rough in the best way possible as he sang the ballad.

I’ve got this feeling that comes and goes

Ten broken fingers and one broken nose

Dark waters very cold

I know I’ll make it home

This sorry sun has burned the sky

She’s out of touch and she’s very high

Her bed was made of stone

I know I’ll break her throne

These aching bones won’t hold me up

My swollen shoes they have had enough

These smokestacks burn them down

This ocean let it drown

When he finished I was quiet. He gave me a squeeze, probably checking I was still alive. I squeezed his arms right back, not turning over so he couldn’t see the tears in my eyes. The combination of his voice and the moody ballad had undone me. I was always making a mess of myself around him, crying or puking. Why he wanted anything to do with me, I had no idea.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Anytime.”

I lay there, trying to decipher the lyrics. What it might mean that he’d chosen that song to sing to me. “What’s it called?”

“‘Homesick.’ I wrote it for the last album.” He rose up on one elbow, leaning over to check out my face. “Shit, I made you sad. I’m sorry.”

“No. It was beautiful. Your voice is amazing.”

He frowned but lay back down, pressed his chest against my spine. “I’ll sing you something happy next time.”

“If you like.” I pressed my lips to the back of his hand, to the veins tracing across, and the dusting of dark hair. “David?”

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t you sing in the band? You have such a great voice.”

“I do back-up. Jimmy loves the limelight. It was always more his thing.” His fingers twined with mine. “He wasn’t always the asshole he is now. I’m sorry he hassled you in LA. I could have killed him for saying that shit.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. He was off his face. He didn’t have a fucking clue what he was talking about.” His thumb moved restlessly over my hand. “You’re gorgeous. You don’t need to change a thing.”

I didn’t know what to say at first. Jimmy had said some horrible things and it had stayed with me. Funny how the bad stuff always did.

“I’ve both puked and cried on you. Are you entirely sure about that?” I joked, finally.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I like you the way you are, blurting out whatever shit crosses your mind. Not trying to play me, or use me. You’re just … being with me. I like you.”

I lay there speechless for a moment, taken aback. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Anytime, Evelyn. Anytime at all.”

“I like you too.”

His lips brushed against the back of my neck. Shivers raced across my skin. “Do you?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Thanks, baby.”

It took a long time for his breathing to even out. His limbs got heavier and he stilled, asleep against my back. My foot went fuzzy with pins and needles but never mind. I hadn’t slept with anyone before, apart from the occasional platonic bed-sharing episode with Lauren. Apparently, sleeping was all I’d be doing today.

In all honesty, it felt good, lying next to him.

It felt right.

“Hey.” David padded down the stairs seven hours later, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He’d slicked his wet hair back and his tattoos were displayed to perfection, defining his lean torso and muscular arms. There was a lot of skin on show. The man was a visual feast. I made a conscious effort to keep my tongue inside my head. Keeping the welcoming grin off my face was beyond my abilities. I’d planned to play it cool so as not to spook him. That plan had failed.

“What’cha doin’?” he asked.

“Nothing much. There was a delivery for you.” I pointed to the bags and boxes waiting by the door. All day I’d pondered the problem of us. The only thing I’d come up with was that I didn’t want our time to end. I didn’t want to sign those annulment papers. Not yet. The idea made me want to start puking all over again. I wanted David. I wanted to be with him. I needed a new plan.

The pad of my thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. I’d gone for a long walk up the beach earlier, watching the waves crash on the shore and reliving that kiss. Over and over again, I’d played it inside my mind. The same went for our conversations. In fact, I’d picked apart every moment of our time together, explored every nuance. Every moment I could remember, anyway, and I’d tried damn hard to remember all of it.

“A delivery?” He crouched down beside the closest package and started tearing at the wrapping. I averted my eyes before I caught a glimpse up his towel, despite being wildly curious.

“Would you mind if I used your phone?” I asked.

“Ev, you don’t need to ask. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Thanks.” Lauren and my folks were probably freaking out, wondering what was going on. It was time to brave up to the butt-picture repercussions. I groaned on the inside.

“This one’s for you.” He handed me a thick brown-paper parcel done up with string, followed by a shopping bag with some brand I’d never heard of printed on the side. “Ah, this one too by the look.”

“It is?”

“Yeah. I asked Martha to order some stuff for us.”

“Oh.”

“Oh? No.” David shook his head. Then he kneeled down in front of me and tore into the brown package in my hands. “No ‘oh’. We need clothes. It’s really simple.”

“That’s very kind of you, David, but I’m fine.”

He wasn’t listening. Instead he held up a red dress the same thigh-baring length as those girls at the mansion had worn. “What the fuck? You’re not wearing this.” The designer dress went flying and he ripped into the shopping bag at my feet.

“David, you can’t just throw it on the ground.”

“Sure I can. Here, this is a little better.”

A black tank top fell into my lap. At least this one looked the right size. The thigh-high red dress had been a size-four joke. Quite possibly a mean one, given Martha’s dislike of me back in LA. No matter.

A tag dangled from the tank. The price. Shit. They couldn’t be serious.

“Whoa. I could pay my rent for weeks with this top.”

In lieu of a response he threw a pair of skinny black jeans at me. “Here, they’re okay too.”

I put the jeans aside. “It’s a plain cotton tank top. How can this possibly cost two hundred dollars?”

“What do you think of this?” A length of silky green fabric dangled from his hand. “Nice, huh?”

“Do they sew the seams with gold thread? Is that it?”

“What are you talking about?” He held up the blue dress, turning it this way and that. “Hell no, it’s backless. The top of your ass will probably show in that.” It joined the red dress on the floor. My hands itched to rescue them, fold them away nicely. But David just ripped into the next box. “What were you saying?”

“I’m talking about the price of this top.”

“Shit, no. We’re not talking about the price of that top because we’re not talking about money. It’s an issue for you and I’m not going there.” A micro-mini denim skirt came next. “What the fuck was Martha thinking ordering you this sort of stuff?”

“Well, to be fair, you do normally have girls in bikinis hanging off you. In comparison, the backless dress is quite sedate.”

“You’re different. You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I didn’t entirely believe the tone of my own voice.

His forehead wrinkled up with disdain. “Damn it. Look at the length of this. I can’t even tell if it’s meant to be a skirt or a fucking belt.”

Laughter burst out of me and he gave me a hurt look, big blue puppy-dog eyes of extreme sadness and displeasure. Clearly, I had hurt his heart.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you sound like my father.”

He shoved the micro-mini back into its bag. At least it wasn’t on the floor. “Yeah? Your dad and I should meet. I think we’d get along great.”

“You want to meet my father?”

“Depends, would he shoot me on sight?”

“No.” Probably not.

He just gave me a curious look and burrowed into the next box. “That’s better. Here.”

He passed me a couple of sedate T-shirts, one black and one blue.

“I don’t think you should be selecting nun’s clothing for me, friend,” I said, bemused at his behavior. “It’s vaguely hypocritical.”

“They’re not nun’s clothes. They just cover the essentials. Is that too much to ask?” The next bulging bag was passed to me in its entirety. “Here.”

“You do admit it’s just a tiny bit hypocritical, though, right?”

“Admit nothing. Adrian taught me that a long time ago. Look in the bag.”

I did so and he burst out laughing, whatever expression I wore being apparently hilarious.

“What is this?” I asked, feeling all wide-eyed with wonder. It might have been a thong if the makers had seen fit to invest just a little more material into it.

“I’m dressing you like a nun.”

“La Perla.” I read the tag then turned it over to check out the price.

“Shit. Will you not look at the price, please? Ev.” David dived at me and I lay back, trying to make out the figures on the crazily swaying tag that was bigger than the scrap of lace. His larger hand closed over mine, engulfing the thong. “Don’t. For fuck’s sake.”

The back of my head hit the edge of a step and I winced, my eyes filling with tears. “Ow.”

“You alright?” His body stretched out above mine. A hand rubbed carefully at the back of my skull.

“Um, yeah.” The scent of his soap and shampoo was pure heaven, Lord help me. But there was something more than that. His cologne. It wasn’t heavy. Just a light scent of spice. There was something really familiar about it.

The tag hanging down in front of my face momentarily distracted me however. “Three hundred dollars?”

“It’s worth it.”

“Holy shit. No, it’s not.”

He hung the thong from the tip of a finger, a crazy cool smile on his face. “Trust me. I’d have paid ten times that amount for this. No questions asked.”

“David, I could get the exact same thing for less than a tenth of that price in a normal store. That’s insane.”

“No you couldn’t.” He balanced his weight on an elbow set on the step beside my head and started reading from the tag. “See, this exquisite lace is handmade by local artists in a small region of Northern Italy famous for just such craftsmanship. It’s made from only the finest of silks. You can’t get that at Walmart, baby.”

“No, I guess not.”

He made a pleased humming sound and looked at me with eyes soft and hazy. Then his smile faded. He pulled back and scrunched the thong up in his hand. “Anyway.”

“Wait.” My fingers curled around his biceps, keeping him in place.

“What’s up?” he asked, his voice tightening.

“Just, let me …” I lifted my face to his neck. The scent was strongest there. I breathed him deep, letting myself get high off the scent of him. I shut my eyes and remembered.

“Evelyn?” The muscles in his arms flexed and hardened. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“We were in the gondolas at The Venetian. You said you couldn’t swim, that I’d have to save you if we capsized.”

His Adam’s apple jumped. “Yeah.”

“I was terrified for you.”

“I know. You hung onto me so tight I could barely breathe.”

I drew back so I could see his face.

“Why do you think we stayed on them for so long?” he asked. “You were practically sitting in my lap.”

“Can you swim?”

He laughed quietly. “Of course I can swim. I don’t even think the water was that deep.”

“It was all a ruse. You’re tricky, David Ferris.”

“And you’re funny, Evelyn Thomas.” His face relaxed, his eyes softening again. “You remembered something.”

“Yes.”

“That’s great. Anything else?”

I gave him a sad smile. “No, sorry.”

He looked away, disappointed, I think, but trying not to let it show.

“David?”

“Mm?”

I leaned forward to press my lips to his, wanting to kiss him, needing to. He pulled back again. My hopes dived. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Ev. What are you doing?”

“Kissing you?”

He said nothing. Jaw rigid, he looked away.

“You’re allowed to kiss me and cuddle me and buy me insanely priced lingerie and I can’t kiss you back?” My hands slid down to his and he held them. At least he wasn’t rejecting me totally.

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he asked, his voice stern.

I studied our entwined fingers for a moment, getting my thoughts in order. “David, I’m probably not ever going to remember everything about that night in Vegas. But I thought we could maybe make some new good memories this weekend. Something we can both share.”

“Just this weekend?”

My heart filled my throat. “No. I don’t know. It just … it feels like there’s meant to be more between us.”

“More than friends?” He watched me, eyes intent.

“Yes. I like you. You’re kind and sweet and beautiful and you’re easy to talk to. When we’re not always arguing about Vegas. I feel like …”

“What?”

“Like this weekend is a second chance. I don’t want to just let it slip by. I think I’d regret that for a long time.”

He nodded, cocked his head. “So what was your plan? Just kiss me, and see what happened?”

“My plan?”

“I know about you and your plans. You told me all about how anal you are.”

“I told you that?” I was an idiot.

“Yeah. You did. You especially told me about the
big
plan.” He stared down at me, eyes intense. “You know … finish school then spend three to five years establishing yourself at mid-range firm before moving up the ranks somewhere more prestigious and starting your own small consultancy business by thirty-five. Then there’d maybe time to get a relationship and those pesky 2.4 kids out of the way.”

My throat was suddenly a dry, barren place. “I was really chatty that night.”

“Mm. But what was interesting was the way you didn’t talk about that plan like it was a good thing. You talked about it like it was a cage and you were rattling the bars.”

I had nothing.

“So, come on,” he said softly, taunting me. “What’s the plan here, Ev? How were you going to convince me?”

“Oh. Well, I was um … I was going to seduce you, I guess. And see what happened. Yeah …”

“How? By complaining about me buying you stuff?”

“No. That was just an added bonus. You’re welcome.”

He licked his lips, but I saw the smile. “Right. Come on then, show me your moves.”

“My moves?”

“Your seduction techniques. Come on, time’s a-wasting.” I hesitated and he clicked his tongue, impatient. “I’m only wearing a towel, baby. How hard can this be?”

“Fine, fine,” I held his fingers tight, refusing to let go. “So, David?”

“Yes, Evelyn?”

“I was thinking …”

“Hmm?”

I was so hopelessly outclassed with him. I gave him the only thing I could think of. The only thing that I knew had a track record of working. “I think you’re a really nice guy and I was wondering if you’d maybe like to come up to my room and have sex with me and maybe hang out for a while. If that’s maybe something you’d be interested in doing …”

His eyes darkened, accusing and unhappy. He started to pull back again. “Now you’re just being funny.”

“No.” I slipped my hand around the back of his neck, beneath his damp hair, trying to bring him back to me. “No, I’m very, very serious.”

Jaw tensed, he stared at me.

“You asked me this morning in the car if I thought you were scary. The answer is yes. You scare me shitless. I don’t know what I’m doing here. But I hate the thought of leaving you.”

His gaze searched my face but still he said nothing. He was going to turn me down. I knew it. I’d asked for too much, pushed him too far. He’d walk away from me, and who could blame him after everything?

“It’s okay,” I said, gathering what remained of my pride up off the floor.

“Ah, man,” he sighed. “You’re kinda terrifying too.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, you are. And wipe that smile off your face.”

“Sorry.”

He angled his head and kissed me, his lips firm and so good. My eyes closed and my mouth opened. The taste of him took me over. The mint of his toothpaste and the slide of his tongue against mine. All of it was past perfect. He lay me back against the stairs. The new bruise at the back of my head throbbed in protest when I bumped it yet again. I flinched but didn’t stop. David cupped the back of my skull, guarding against further injury.

The weight of his body held me in place, not that I was trying to escape. The edge of the steps pressed into my back and I couldn’t care less. I’d have happily lain there for hours with him above me, the warm scent of his skin making me high. His hips held my legs wide open. If not for my jeans and his towel things would get interesting fast. God, I hated cotton just then.

We didn’t once break the kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist and my hands curved around his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt this good. My ache for him increased and caught fire, spreading right through me. My legs tightened around him, muscles burning. I couldn’t get close enough. Talk about frustrating. His mouth moved over my jaw and down my neck, lighting me up from inside. He bit and licked, finding sensitive spots below my ear and in the crook of my neck. Places I hadn’t known I had. The man had magic. He knew things I didn’t. Where he’d learned his tricks didn’t matter. Not right then.