Silk

by Heidi McLaughlin

He put his hand under mine, leading it to my mouth. I opened wide and let the pills fall in before taking a big gulp of water. I put it down and started to jump down from the counter, but he held up his hands to stop me.

  “Just stay put, what do you want?”

  “Umm, I just want something to eat, I haven’t eaten much today. My stomach won’t like the aspirin.”

  “When was the last time you ate?” He asked in a scolding tone, making me flinch.

  “I’m not sure, it’s been a busy day.”

  “You should take better care of yourself.” He said bluntly.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  I scooted away from him and jumped off the counter then retreated around the island to put some distance between us—I couldn’t seem to think with him so close. He eyed my every movement with his signature scowl directed right at me.

  “Look Deacon, thank you for the medicine and water. But don’t think you know me because you don’t.”

  “I never said I knew you, I just said you needed to eat. There’s a big difference.”

  He turned back to the refrigerator and started searching through its contents. I watched, completely stunned, as he pulled out sliced cheese and butter, grabbed a loaf of bread from the counter, and moved to the stove.

  “Wait, what are you doing?”

  He stopped and held up his hands, a frying pan in one and a spatula in the other, “Umm, cooking.”

  “I can see that, but no. I can find something to eat, you don’t need to cook.”

  “It’s a grilled cheese, Eli, it’s not like I’m whipping up a gourmet meal over here. Just sit down and chill the fuck out already. Good Lord, you act like no one’s ever done anything nice for you.”

  “Grilled cheese? That’s what my dad always made.” I said faintly as I fell into a chair at the table while memories of my dad standing exactly where Deacon currently was standing washed over me.

  “Yeah, a grilled cheese.” He said, turning back to the stove.

  Minutes passed while he cooked and I stared into space, trying hard not to let my childhood memories rip my heart open and pour out all its baggage in front of Deacon. I’d already come to terms with these feelings, it had been years since he died. But something about Deacon made them flood through my soul more than they had in years.

  I was startled when he set a plate in front of me with a perfectly cooked grilled cheese. He sat next to me with his own plate piled with three grilled cheese sandwiches. The smell of gooey cheese hit me and my stomach immediately let out a loud growl I knew he had to hear. I cut my eyes toward him and he gave me the biggest smile I’d ever seen.

  Before I could start eating, Luci jumped on the chair next to me and stood with her paws on the table.

  “Get down, Luci.” I snapped and swatted her away. “Sorry, she likes cheese.”

  “Why is her name Lucifer?” He asked for the second time tonight.

  “Cinderella.” I answered. He shook his head at me and shrugged his shoulders.

  “The cat in Cinderella is named Lucifer. I thought everyone knew that.”

  He made an amused grunting sound that really felt good to my ears. “No, I can promise I didn’t know that.”

  “Cinderella was my favorite fairy tale growing up. I still read it all the time and watch the old cartoon at least once a year.” I admitted and then felt childish, so I added, “Umm my dad bought it for me, and he read it to me every single night when he was alive. It’s my favorite, every little girl wants to live a fairytale.”

  His face softened and he nodded. We both stopped talking and ate. I could feel the time ticking by, but the silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable, it was soothing.

  Chapter Ten

  Eli Blue

  “So, your dad? He was a fan of the grilled cheese sandwich, too?” He asked after we’d almost finished eating.

  I nodded. “Always when I was sick. To him a grilled cheese fixed anything from a hangnail to a hangover.”

  “Wise man, that father of yours.” He said with a smile before shoving his last bite in his mouth.

  “Yeah, you two seem to have quite a few things in common.” I told him.

  “Just because I own a blue guitar doesn’t mean I’ll ever measure up to your dad.” He said with his eyes turned down toward his plate.

  “Deacon, you’re just as good as he was, maybe even better.” I told him softly, but the expression on his face said he’d never believe me.

  He shook his head. “No fucking way, Eli. I’ll never be as good as Kirk Savage, I don’t even dream of being that damn talented.”

  “You are, I don’t know who taught you how to play, but you’re damn good.” I said, seemingly more confident of his talent than he was.

  He grunted, “No one taught me how to play, I just learned. The only possible role models I ever had were ones looking for a free ride funded by the foster care system, and I can promise, of all the places I lived, there were none worth looking up to.”

  “How many different places did you live?” I asked, not sure if he’d be willing to share anymore, but wanting to know more about him.

  “Seven.” He said grimly, his mouth a hard line. “Most before I even started school, though. It’s hard to find anyone willing to take on a young kid with so many issues adjusting, but just before my tenth birthday I was placed in my last home.”

  “You must have liked being able to spend so many years in one home. Do you still see those foster parents?”

  A small smile touched his lips, but his eyes seemed to fill with sadness at the same time. “No, I was actually only there for a few years before I ran away and lived on my own. They were both deadbeats more interested in sitting around all day, drugged out, than anything I had going on. The man loved your dad though, that’s actually where I first heard your dad’s music and touched my first guitar, so at least he gave me that, right?”

  I rolled my eyes, “Yeah, if he enjoyed drugs, then I’m sure he enjoyed my dad’s music; too often those things seem to go hand in hand. I really hate that.”

  “It’s just…your dad’s music stayed with me when I was at my darkest point, and it ultimately helped me leave a bad life behind for music. That’s why I have the blue guitar, my way of paying tribute, I guess.” He quickly said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound otherwise.”

  “No, it’s fine. I came to terms with that side of my dad a long time ago. It’s not always easy for me to talk about it, though. I just don’t trust many people.” I admitted.

  He smiled and his face lit up. “I’m glad you trust me because you can; you can trust me with anything.”

  “I feel like I can, especially since you lived through something sorta similar.” He nodded, so I continued. “It took me years to even begin coping with what happened to my dad, but once I saw what a horrible person my mom was on drugs, I was at least thankful my dad hadn’t let his habit ruin us.”

  “I’ll never forget the day I heard about his…what happened—about your dad…” He fumbled for the right words to use instead of having to say “overdose”. People did it all the time, like simply saying the word would somehow cause me pain—as if I hadn’t dealt with the fact my dad was a drug addict long ago.

  “Yeah, it was rough on me for a while, and, of course, my mom made it a million times worse by trying to use me every chance she got. Once dad was gone, I was her ticket to fame and fortune; I honestly think that’s all I ever was to her—a means to an end. Once I finally got away from her, she turned right back to the same drugs that killed my dad—I assume they’ll kill her one day, too.”

  “That’s how the naked photo spread happened?” He asked, his eyes dancing as he thought back to it.

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, that was her idea. I wasn’t old enough to tell her no; she was my guardian, so I just did it. Really, I don’t think I understood what was happening. My dad had only been gone for a couple months when she took me to a random warehouse and had m
e strip all my clothes off. The actual shoot wasn’t bad, a little awkward, but not as traumatizing as what came after. The attention I got because of those pictures was way more than I could handle.”

  “Well at least that’s one thing we have in common—shitty parents.” He shrugged.

  “Yeah, who would have guessed shitty parents would bring us so close together.” I laughed, but it was true. Knowing we shared that bond made me feel more drawn to him, like I understood his actions better. “But when my dad was alive, he was a great dad, I couldn’t have asked for more. Sometimes, I guess there’s just more important things than your kids.”

  He reached across the table and laid his hand on mine. “I have no doubts: I bet nothing was more important to him than you.”

  I nodded slowly as tears filled my eyes. I didn’t realize how much I needed someone to tell me that, after all these years, even if it might not be true. So much of my life I’d resented him for leaving me, for being too reckless with his life when he was my whole world.

  “Thanks.” I said softly.

  “I meant what I said before, those photos in that magazine of you were something to look at, but nothing compares to you now—not even fucking close.” He said as a heated expression crossed his face.

  He slowly stood from the table, took both our plates to the sink, and then walked down the hall.

  “Come.” He called back to me.

  I followed after him, wondering if this day could get any weirder when, halfway down the darkened hallway, I slammed into a very hard body. My hands instinctively went up and landed on his chest. I felt the soft cotton of his shirt and pushed harder to dig my fingers into the hardness underneath. He pushed me against the wall and leaned his body into me, a position that was already becoming familiar. My breath quickened, inhaling his delicious scent deeper within me.

  It was dark, but a small stream of light from the kitchen illuminated his beautiful face. He lowered his mouth, lightly ran his soft lips over mine, and his stubble raked against my skin—it felt exactly like I’d hoped it would. I welcomed his tongue as he stroked every inch of my mouth, sucking my bottom lip, pushing deeper into me.

  I pushed my hips forward and felt his erection digging into my stomach, a promise I felt deep in my core. A sensual moan slipped from my throat, and was answered by the sexiest growl I’d ever heard. My hands moved up his arms and I felt his muscles bulge under my touch. He felt too good, too real—already my body ached for him. He placed his hands on my face and laced his legs with mine, locking us together even tighter, molding us into one. I couldn’t have moved away if I wanted, but I didn’t want to. I’d found a weakness I didn’t even know existed before yesterday: Deacon Chastain. I’d felt a pull to him before now, but I thought it was a familiarity I felt for him. This went beyond any similarities to my past I saw in him; this was unlike anything I’d ever known.

  I felt his grip on my face loosen as the intensity of his kisses slowed. One last slow kiss, placed perfectly on my mouth, then his lips glided to just below my ear. His tongue slowly ran down my neck before stopping at my collarbone.

  “Damn, Eli, hallelujah.” He growled against my neck, his breath cold on the wetness his mouth left behind. “You taste better than I imagined; you’re all I’ve been thinking about.”

  My heart leapt at the idea he’d thought about me even half as much as I had about him.

  “Why?” I asked breathlessly, not sure I’d ever be able to pull enough air into my lungs for them to feel whole again.

  He moved so we were face to face, his blue eyes hot with lust.

  “I don’t know,” He whispered. “Since the moment I touched you, I can’t stay away. When I’m not touching you, I’m thinking about your soft skin under my fingers, brushing my mouth across those plump lips, running my tongue around this tight nipple.” The pad of his thumb lightly brushed across my breast in perfect time with his words and my back arched off the wall, pressing into his touch.

  “I know you feel it, too. Your body responds to every word, every touch. I tried to stay away; I tried not to touch you. But I couldn’t, not even for one day. I’m consumed, Eli; every inch of me is consumed with you. I don’t understand it, all I know is I can’t fight it.”

  A loud noise sounded from the kitchen. Deacon didn’t move an inch; he stayed tightly pressed against my body, locking me in place with his hips.

  “Shh, she’s probably already in bed; you’re gonna wake her up, and I promise cranky Eli is not who you want to see right now.” I heard an obviously drunken Willow slur.

  “If she’s in bed, I promise she ain’t sleeping if she’s with Deacon.” Duke replied.

  Great. We’d kissed once and apparently everyone had already seen it coming. I focused my gaze back to Deacon and his eyes were glued to mine as if his gaze had been locked there forever.

  I pushed against his body, trying to escape our compromising position before Willow and Duke made it to the hallway, but he didn’t budge. I widened my eyes at him in a silent plea. He just smiled at me before cupping my face and bringing my mouth back to his. His tongue licked and swirled desperately, as if my mouth was his only link to life itself. I could feel his desperation and felt my lips move to match his frenzy, afraid I’d never feel such a connection again.

  A light came on above us just as our lips parted. I heard a light laugh coming from where Willow and Duke were standing, but I couldn’t see them because Deacon hadn’t let go of my face. He was resting his forehead against mine with his eyes closed. I heard him inhale deeply and felt his chest rise as it filled with air. He finally pulled back and released my face, but never took his eyes from mine.

  “I told you she wasn’t sleeping.” Duke teased.

  “I’ll-be-damned!” Willow replied.

  “Leave.” Deacon commanded harshly.

  They both laughed hysterically, but turned and walked away.

  He reached up cupping my cheek, and my head instinctively leaned into his touch.

  “I feel the same way.” I admitted and couldn’t believe I was. “I think about you, too. All the time.”

  His lips parted as he exhaled a long, calming breath.

  “You don’t know how much I wanted to hear you say that.”

  Then he leaned forward slowly, grazing his lips across mine.

  Chapter Eleven

  Eli Blue

  I spun in a circle and watched as my long, flowing dress danced in the breeze. It was a gorgeous blue—pale like the afternoon sky. It covered me from the tip of my well-manicured toes to the curve of my neckline. It made my whole body sparkle in the moonlight streaming through the window. My shoes were clear crystal with pointy heels that made me tall and lean. I’d never felt more beautiful.

  I was standing in the middle of a long, narrow ballroom that was completely empty—except for me. The only light came from candles burning in the chandeliers hanging from the tall ceilings and the moonlight beaming from the large windows that encompassed an entire wall.

  Soft music echoed through the room. It was a slow, methodical rhythm unlike anything I’d heard before. It drew me to the other end of the room, toward the source of the sound. My heels made a low tapping sound on the wood floor, perfectly timed with the beat of the song and the pounding in my chest.

  The closer I got to the music, a shroud of darkness moved over me. With every step I could feel it surrounding me, engulfing me. I fought forward until all I could hear was the tapping of my heels, the darkness blocking out the music. I stopped, trying to listen for the rhythm, for the beat—but heard only the dull hum of silence.

  I ran; ran straight for where I hoped the music had been leading me. Forward, only forward—never back. I saw something—something glistening and gleaming, even with no light. The darkness fought hard to conceal it, to hide its beauty, but my eyes could still see the shiny places hidden in the rough wall.

  There it was; I found it. I reached out and ran my finger across the edge careful not to let it punc
ture my flesh. It felt razor sharp and cold to my touch. I pushed harder, deeper into it, and felt it flex and mold to my hand. The harder I pushed, the further it expanded.

  I pulled my hand away and ran my palms up and down the surface looking for something, anything—there had to be more. Retreating several steps, I could see the shiny places again. Up close, the shininess disappeared, only from afar could I pinpoint them within the harshness. In the exact center was a large curved spot that shone the brightest, and I knew that was it.

  I put my hand even with the spot and ran—ran with all my might, with all the strength my legs would allow. My hand hit the spot, hit it hard. I heard a crack then the splintering of the surface. The roughness started to fall away, huge chunks fell, hitting the floor and shattering until nothing remained. They started falling faster, with more force, heavier and heavier pieces hit the floor, each with a loud boom.

  I moved away from the splinters and the shards. Unable to handle the assault, I turned my back trying to shield myself. I could still hear the cracking and the shattering; it rang through the emptiness and echoed in my ears. It grew louder and louder, begging for me to return, pleading for me to come back. The final piece, the largest of all, fell, striking the floor with such force it shook the entire room almost knocking me to my knees.

  I finally turned back and where the wall had been was now a long staircase that led down into brightness. I timidly walked forward and heard the music louder and clearer. It pulled me forward as if an invisible string encircled me. I didn’t fight it; I willingly gave myself over to the music, wanting to be where it would take me, where it would allow me.

  Once I reached the top of the staircase, I looked down and saw a figure—tall and lean; dressed in a black suit, but with no other features. I couldn’t see his face. I took my first step down and he took a step back. I paused and so did he. I took another step and he did the same. Over, and over, until I was halfway down the staircase and he had retreated further and further away. The room seemed to expand with his existence and shrink where he wasn’t.