“I have to see you.” He pulls out and turns me over, and he’s back inside me in a half-second. I feel his erection twitch, then pulsate more, twitch again and then he says, “Fuck, I’m gonna come. Come with me.”
I watch as he looks down at himself plunging in and out.
His face going red.
His eyes squinting.
The cords in his neck flexing along with the muscles in his chest and stomach.
Evan’s body is straining with pleasure as he powerfully moves inside me. It’s as though our bodies have merged into one. For a fleeting couple of seconds, I think that if this intensity stopped my heartbeat, his would be enough to keep both of us alive.
He’s been holding his breath for a few seconds, before letting it out and groaning. My breaths become gasps as my orgasm causes my muscles to clench around him and I’m making a noise I’ve never made before.
Evan’s eyes are wide, watching me, his mouth slightly open.
I grab his thick arms tightly, my nails digging into his skin. That seems to pull him over the edge with me.
His head drops next to mine. He’s breathing heavily as he comes and he’s saying, “I could do this with you forever.”
. . . . .
I’ve gone downstairs, naked but wrapped in a sheet, and come back up with two beers and a single plate of food for us to share. I hadn’t planned on serving dinner in my bedroom—who does?—but neither of us wanted to get dressed and go downstairs. When I get back to my room, Evan is in his boxers, putting a large beach towel on the floor.
He looks up when I come into the room. “Indoor picnic.”
“I see that.” I laugh as I sit next to him.
The large plate holds diced grilled chicken, with roasted tomatoes and olives over penne pasta. We eat like we’re both starving, lots of silence except for the occasional remark about the food.
Evan goes downstairs for two more beers after we’ve eaten, and I figure this is a good time to bring up the trip.
He’s lying on his side, propped up on his elbow. I’m sitting cross-legged, facing him.
“I felt nothing,” he begins. “I stepped onstage and I wasn’t nervous, either in a good way or bad. It was just instant.” He snaps his fingers. “I knew I didn’t want to be back there, playing with the band.”
“The pictures you sent were great. I also saw some online, late, after the concert.” I lean toward him and playfully say, “You’re pretty hot, you know that?”
He laughs, and I’m glad because I know this conversation isn’t easy for him and I want him to be relaxed. I want him to feel like he can tell me anything, everything, because he can.
“I talked to the guys after the show. Told them I wasn’t staying. It wasn’t pretty. I barely said anything, I just let them vent.”
I reach out and touch his hand, slipping my fingers between his. He closes his hand and locks our fingers together.
“It’s fine,” he says. “I don’t have to make any choices right now.”
This makes me think immediately of the idea that Stacy had planted in my head—the one about the indie music route. I don’t even know if Evan would want to do that, and I don’t get a chance to ask because he has more he wants to tell me.
“My family is selling the ranch,” he says, and I listen intently as he tells me all about it. “I’m happy for my parents. My dad didn’t seem disappointed at all. I think he’s ready for the change. And my mom deserves this.” He tells me about his middle brother, who sounds sweet, and his older brother, who sounds like a world-class asshole.
Evan opens up about his childhood, telling me how his oldest brother Dale was a fuckup and has spent the last twenty-plus years trying to make up for it by putting other people down and trying to make himself look like the dependable, upstanding family man.
“I couldn’t give a shit about the past,” Evan says, sipping his beer. “But he’s never going to get over it. We all just put up with it.”
He tells me how Dale relentlessly criticized Evan’s chosen profession.
“Sounds jealous,” I say.
Evan shrugs it off. “Nah, he’s just a dick. I’m so glad the ranch thing is settled. Now there’s no pressure to go back and help out.”
“So what are you going to do?”
He sips his beer and looks over at the wall for a moment, thinking hard, then looks back at me. “No idea.” He smiles, then breaks out into a laugh. “I really don’t know. I’m under no pressure to do anything.”
Now seems like a good time, so I bring up the idea Stacy had. “I don’t know if you would even do this. It might seem like a step down from the level you’re on, but have you ever thought of releasing your music independently?”
He surprised me by saying, without hesitation, “I have, and I’ve been thinking more about it since the plane took off in Denver. The idea came up a couple of years ago, but I wasn’t ready, you know? Now, though? I can see myself being a studio musician, releasing stuff as I want, playing smaller venues. That’s something I think might make me happy. I just need to get someone to handle the business and legal side of it. But, yeah, that’s option number one right now.”
I’m so elated, I can’t hold it back, and I tell him about what Stacy said. “So I know someone. She can refer you to some people locally.”
Evan looks down, then back up to me. “You talked to someone about all of this?”
Oh, shit. He doesn’t look happy, and now I’m regretting telling him and also telling Stacy anything. “A little, yes. She’s my closest friend, and I didn’t tell her much.”
“I wish you wouldn’t have done that.” He releases his hand from mine.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“I asked you on day one about discretion, Audrey. I didn’t want anyone to know who I was or that I was here, or…anything.” His voice is flat, not angry, and this isn’t an argument so much as it is an excruciatingly uncomfortable situation.
“The only reason I told her anything was because I was so mad at you. Mad isn’t the right word. I was hurt. It was when I found out—”
“That I’d been hiding my true identity from you,” he says, cutting me off. “Call it even?”
I manage a smile, relieved that I hadn’t screwed all of this up somehow. For a minute there, I was worried I had. A sudden sick feeling washes over me as I realize we’re not “even” at all. I should tell him right now because I’m not quite sure the problem is resolved.
“There’s something I think you should know.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Evan
I listen as she tells me about her ex-boyfriend, Wyatt, who I despise from the moment she tells me how he treated her and what lead to their breakup.
“I didn’t realize he was so selfish,” she says. “I mean, he was never like that but his new life in Seattle must have changed something.”
“Or revealed something.”
She nods. “True.”
When Audrey tells me he’s been in town and she’s seen him a few times, my stomach tightens. What is this? Jealousy? Possessiveness? I’ve never felt either of those things before. No, it’s not either of those, both of which would scare me. Rather, it’s a feeling of protectiveness.
“The night Sophie and her friend were missing?” She starts this part with a statement that comes out as a question, and I open my eyes wider as if to say, Go on… “I was on the phone with Wyatt and he came over and helped me find the girls.”
Looking away, fixing my eyes on a picture on the wall, I wish it had been me instead of him. I have no idea what the details are, but I can imagine this prick acting like some kind of superhero. I look back at Audrey, trying my best not to let my facial expression and body language give away the fact that I don’t like any of this.
But I do understand why she hadn’t told me until just now. I had my reasons for keeping something from her early on; she had her reasons for keeping this under wraps until she was re
ady to tell me.
“Is that the guy in your prom picture?”
She coughs out a quick and forceful, “No! God no. That’s a guy I sort of dated in high school. My mom wouldn’t put up a picture of Wyatt, but if she did, she knows I’d do anything to remove it, including burning the house down.”
I manage a smile. She despises this Wyatt fucker. Good.
It ends with even better news—she hasn’t heard from him in over a week, which probably means he’s all the way on the other side of the country, back in Seattle, and unlikely to be back here anytime soon, at least until maybe Thanksgiving or Christmas, I guess.
“Thanks for telling me,” I say.
She takes my comment as sarcasm. She doesn’t say anything. I can just read her face.
“I’m serious.” I stand up, reaching down for her hands, and when she’s almost in a standing position, I lift her and swing us around, landing on the bed. I’m on top of her, pulling open the sheet she wrapped herself in, then tugging my boxers down my thighs just enough to free myself.
I have to have her. Right here. Right now. Just like this—intense and hard—and based on the way she grabs me and pulls me closer to her, digging her nails into my shoulders, she needs this too.
. . . . .
I wanted to spend the night with her, but we agreed it was too risky. We stayed up late, and if we had fallen asleep together, there’s a good chance we would have slept long enough to still be there when her mom arrived home after her overnight shift. Audrey said she hasn’t told her mom anything yet, and I didn’t want to meet her in the early morning hours emerging from her daughter’s bedroom. So I left around 4 a.m.
And now I’m up, having barely slept, it’s a little after 10 a.m. and I feel the need to write.
Sitting down on the couch with my guitar propped on my knee, I play a few chords, then some individual notes come naturally, and I start to hum a melody that’ll be replaced by words. A few lines of lyrics come to me, and I stop playing to write them down, then it’s back to the strings, building the rest of the song.
It’s at once exhilarating, freeing, but then slightly frustrating when I hit a point where I know I need to take a break from creating something new. I switch back to some old songs, and after playing for nearly an hour, then grabbing a quick bite to eat, I really need to get out of the house.
Traffic is light this time of day, as my GPS leads me to an address in downtown Charleston. I park a few blocks away, walk through the teeming crowd of tourists and people on their lunch breaks, and find myself standing outside my destination.
Cool air greets me when I enter. There’s a small room that’s more like the size of a walk-in closet, two cheap chairs and a fake plant that hasn’t been dusted in forever. There’s another door. I grab the knob but it’s locked, so I knock a few times until a guy comes and opens it.
“What’s up?” he asks. “What can I do for you?” He’s a good bit shorter than I am. Hair closely cropped to his head, tattoo sleeves on both arms, rings on nearly every finger, and he’s wearing a Ramone’s t-shirt. If that’s any indication of the music he likes, I’ve come to the right place.
“I’m here to check out the studio and see if you have any time I could book.”
He steps to the side, opening the door wider. “Sure, sure, come on in. When were you looking to start?”
“Couple of weeks,” I say.
Following him down a narrow hallway, I see there are two recording studios on the left side, both dark. There’s one on the right, and I can see into the small window. The “RECORDING” light is on above the door, there are two guys in there playing guitar, one is singing, but I hear nothing through the soundproof walls and glass.
We get to a small office that resembles the tiny waiting area, but this room contains a desk with a laptop on it. The guy apologizes for not introducing himself. “I’m Tim.” He extends his hand across the desk.
I reach up and shake his hand. “Evan.”
Tim looks at me harder, his eyebrows lower, then raise up. “Evan from Tuesday’s Fault?”
I just nod.
“Man, very cool. Shit, I almost didn’t recognize you. I love your band’s stuff. You guys recording a new album?” Before I can answer, he asks, “Why here? I mean, it’ll be an honor to have y’all. I’m just curious.”
I take a seat and lean back in the chair. “It’s just going to be me.”
“No shit. Going solo?”
I really don’t want to be talking about this, but there’s no way around it. It’ll be news before I know it, and I’ll have to explain it at some point. Plus, this guy seems cool and he means well. “Something like that. For now, anyway. Might just be me and my guitar.”
“I do session work all the time.” Tim laughs, a little nervously, and raises his hands from the desk. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to push myself on you or anything. I’m just saying, you need any session players, I’d love to help out and I know a lot of other guys who would too.”
“I’m not sure where I want to take this just yet, but I’ll let you know.”
“Excellent. I’m always around.” He turns his attention to the computer screen. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got coming up….”
“I’d like to keep this quiet as long as I can,” I tell him.
“Oh sure. No worries. And no questions asked. You got it.”
. . . . .
It’s mid-afternoon by the time I leave the studio, and the weather is perfect for a long drive. I used to do this out west, just get in the car and drive. That was out on open land, with little or no traffic and only the mountains or the flat horizon off in the distance. Sometimes I’d feel like I was on autopilot, having no idea how I’d driven from point A to B, but I got there, and I’d also cleared my head. Not as much as running did, but close.
Here in Charleston, there’s traffic. Lots of it, especially during the summer. So it takes me a while to get out of the city and back over to the islands, where there’s more room to explore.
I start at the near end of Sullivan’s Island and make my way to the other, driving over the bridge that connects to Isle of Palms. I stay on the street closest to the ocean, driving slowly, looking up at the huge beachfront mansions. It’s way more than I’d need if I decided to move here.
By the time I get back to the resort, it’s just after five o’clock. I haven’t talked to Audrey all day. She’s off work. I had intended on calling her to see if she if she wanted to get together tonight, but time got away from me as I was driving.
Sitting in the car, thinking maybe I’ll reach her and I can go pick her up, I dial her number.
She answers on the second ring. “How weird, I was just thinking about you.”
“What makes me think you would have said that if I’d called an hour ago?”
She laughs. “Are you suggesting I’ve been thinking about you all day? That’s kind of conceited, isn’t it?”
“No, just hoping you were doing what I was doing.”
“Ha ha,” she says, the sarcasm heavy in her tone. “Nice try. What have you been up to today?”
I’ve decided not to tell her that I’ve booked the studio a month from now. I want to tell her in person. Plus, I’ll need to extend my rental time at the resort, and I don’t want her to find out that way that I’m staying longer than planned. “I’ve been downtown, then took a drive. Want to grab dinner?”
She sighs. “I just made plans with Stacy.”
I briefly consider making a comment about it being a business meeting so she can discuss my future with her friend again, but decide that I’m better off not attempting that joke. I’d reacted negatively when she told me the first time that she’d talked with Stacy and Audrey had turned that right back around on me. Not going there again. I was fortunate to escape as it was.
“How about tomorrow?” I say, turning off the car. “This should be enough notice to fit me into your busy schedule.”
“Yeah, I think I c
ould squeeze you in.”
I stop in my tracks, one foot on the sidewalk, the other one the first step to the bungalow. “Are you trying to tease me or was that a mistake?”
She laughs. “Oh, total mistake.”
“Right. Have a good time tonight. Call me if you want to stop by later.”
. . . . .
“Thanks for the fucking notice, Evan.”
“This is notice. And it’s final.”
“Jesus!” I can hear Bruce slam a door after he yells. “So this is it?”
“That’s what final means, yes.”
“Fuck you and fuck your sarcasm.”
“Nice doing business with you, too.” I hang up.
I’m calm. I’m not letting his anger get to me. I’m at peace with my decision and now it’s just a matter of letting everyone know so I can move on without this hanging over my head.
There’s no rush to call Jay and the other guys. I don’t have to beat Bruce to it. I’ve known him long enough to know that he’s freaking out right now and overthinking his next move. But I call Jay anyway and tell him the news.
“I’m not surprised,” he says. There’s a calmness in his voice that I wasn’t expecting.
“No?”
“Not at all.” There’s a lot of background noise behind him. It sounds like he’s driving. “You weren’t into it at all the other night. I could see it the whole time. I knew it was our last show.”
I walk outside on the deck to look at the ocean. It has become a calming point of reference for me, a lot like the open terrain used to be back in Denver. Now, when I need to get my bearings, the sand and the water and the waves guide me back to where I need to be. “Marcus and Scott know, too?”
“Oh, yeah. We talked about it.”
I had been expecting more of a conflict in this discussion. Hell, there’s none at all. Jay sounds as at peace about it as I feel.
“Sorry, man. It’s just where I am in my life right now.” I sit down in a lounge chair. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy.”
The Rider List: An Erotic Romance Page 23