“Maybe, not necessarily the singing part, but the touring part, Mike, the label … They're all getting on my nerves.” He turns around in the seat and stretches his legs out as he reclines back against the piano. “They’re trying to change my image. They want me to turn into the cliché, tortured, slutty, rock singer.”
“I’m so sorry.” I lace my fingers through his. “You know I’m here for you, whatever you do or whoever you choose to be.”
He brushes his hair out of his aqua eyes. “I know you are.” He smoothes the pad of his thumb across my black-stoned wedding ring. “I just worry that, if I make the wrong choice, I’ll ruin our future.”
“Our future’s going to be fine.” I give his hand a squeeze, fighting back the tears. More tours? A sluttier image? Yeah, there goes any hope for incidents like with the blonde hair puller to stop. “Even if you have to be a slutty manwhore.”
He snorts a laugh as he traces the folds in his fingers. “Yeah, well, I’m glad you think so.” He flips my hand over and sketches the lines of my palm. “Okay, enough sad talk. Tell me something new.”
I rack my brain for a response. “Um, well, Lila and Ethan bought a new car.”
He stares blankly at me. “That’s all you got? Come on, pretty girl, I want some happy news.”
I shrug. “Sorry. Nothing’s really happened. Us common folks live pretty boring lives.” I search for something else to tell him, something better. “Oh, yeah.” I smack my free hand against my forehead. “Dean and Caroline are having another baby.”
“Really?” He doesn’t seem as happy as I’ve thought he would, his lips twitching to turn downward. “When?”
“I think she’s just over three months pregnant, so she’ll have the baby in April.” I study his expression carefully, wondering what’s troubling him now.
He bobs his head up and down, nodding distractedly as he develops a sudden interest in his boots. “That’s nice. I’ll have to make sure to call and congratulate them.”
“Make sure to sound more happy when you do, though.” I’m not sure what to say to him. Either he’s still sulky over his job or about the fact that he’ll soon have another niece or nephew and still no daughter or son. I wish I could fix both for him; but, the first problem is out of my hands and the second I’m just not ready to deal with yet. Yes, I love him more than anything, but my fear of being a mother is still astronomical.
A slow breath eases from his lips as his gaze collides with mine. “Sorry. I’m being a downer, aren’t I?” He leans toward me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “That isn’t fair to you after you flew across the country to see me.”
“Micha, you should know by now”—I press my lips together, trying not to laugh as I prepare to quote a line from one of his songs—“that I would travel to hell and back just to be with you.”
“Ha, ha,” he says playfully, sticking out his tongue. “You wound my heart, Ella May. I wrote those lyrics for you and you mock me with them.”
“I’m not mocking, just having fun—”
He cuts me off as he nips at my bottom lip, eliciting a soul-bearing groan from me. He slowly starts unbuttoning my shirt, picking up the pace the farther down he gets until he finally becomes so impatient he rips the fabric off.
“I miss your kisses the most.” I willingly lean against the piano as he unfastens my bra and urges me back.
He quickly stands up to tug his shirt over his head and then places an arm on each side of me as his body hovers over mine. “I miss everything the most,” he says before he kisses me. “All the fucking time. I swear to God, I need to see you more.”
My legs fasten around his waist as the ivory keys dig into my flesh. My fingers trace the outlines of his muscular stomach, the inscription of his tattoos, feeling his heart slamming erratically against his chest.
Excitement bursts to the surface when he pushes back to undo the button on my jeans.
“Micha, wait.” I pant. “Are we really going to do this?”
“Do what?” He teases me with a cock of his brow as he gradually unzips my jeans.
I kick off my shoes while I gasp for air. “Have sex on a piano.”
He pulls my jeans and panties off, his passionate gaze skimming every inch of my flesh, stifling my eager body with overpowering heat.
“You sound so excited about the idea,” he says as I reach for the top of his pants and unflick the button.
“I’ll take it wherever I can get it.” I sit up and yank his jeans down. “Besides, we can add it to our growing list of strange places we’ve had sex. I think this one might earn the number three spot, right below backstage at a concert, wrapped in the curtain.”
Instead of smiling, his happiness falters. “I promise I’m going to find a way to change all this, pretty girl. You deserve so much better than this.”
Before I can respond, his lips come down hard on mine, scorching hot as he spreads my legs open and slips two fingers deep inside me.
“Micha… I…” My head falls back and my body arches into his touch, fervently seeking more of him.
“You feel so good,” he whispers against my mouth. “God dammit, Ella. I miss this way too much.”
“Me… too…” I trail off. I can barely think straight, let alone form coherent words.
His lips suddenly leave mine, and he leans back to watch as his fingers drive me toward the edge. His free hand finds my nipple and softly pinches, causing sheer bliss to coil and rush through my body. A helpless moan escapes my lips, and his aqua eyes darken to an ocean blue.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Ella. I swear to God, I just want to write songs about how you look right now.”
I want to tell him no way, that I don’t want to have the entire world knowing what I look like when I’m about to orgasm, yet I’m too far gone to care. “You can write whatever you want as long as you keep touching me like this.”
His eyes blaze with lust while he continues to feel me from the inside and the out. His mouth lowers to mine again, his tongue urging my lips apart. The scent of him is intoxicating, adding intensity to the moment as my thoughts drift to all the times we’ve spent exactly like this.