BorntobeWild

by Lynne Connolly

  “And you’ll be richer.”

  He shrugged. “You can only spend so much. It’s not that.”

  “I know.” She did. Money had never meant much to Riku. He’d always had it. Not that she’d ever wanted, but her family being army didn’t have the same resources. They’d never worried about it. Her mother lived in a small, comfortable home in a good area. Although they’d had to scrimp a bit to send Cyn to New York they’d had a grant to help them and found the rest without having to give up more than the annual holiday. Her father had always said he’d been to most of the hot places of the world and he’d rather not go back, thank you very much.

  “They want you.” For Riku that mattered. For people to want him. Now he had thousands wanting him. Millions, if album sales were anything to go by. That had to make him happy. He certainly seemed less jittery, on edge.

  It had never concerned Cyn if people wanted her or not, as long as the people who mattered to her wanted her. Big difference. She guessed a secure and stable upbringing helped but she didn’t know enough about Riku’s family to be sure. Except for his perfect mother she hadn’t met his family and he rarely talked about them.

  “I won’t tell.”

  “I know,” he said, echoing her words of a moment earlier. They smiled in mutual understanding and he carried on with the tour. The kitchen was close to the great room and appeared as Cyn expected—large, white, gleaming, with almost bare surfaces. A huge refrigerator with a recess in the door for the ice. No sign of actual cookery but the faint scent of coffee lingered.

  Next to the kitchen was a dining room, modern and sterile. “I don’t use this much,” Riku told her.

  “I guessed,” she said. Then, across the hallway from the dining room, next to the studio, his study. He used this room well, for sure. More books, a state-of-the-art laptop, gleaming a baleful red from among a scramble of papers, letters and stationery on the large, modern wood-and-matt-black desk. A filing cabinet that didn’t match the decor, some pictures hanging on the walls, a gold record. That would be for Nightstar. Or maybe the first album. It had done well. She moved closer. No, Nightstar it was. “Is this your first?”

  Gales of laughter ensued. “Yes. We got one each. We’re going platinum soon, Chick tells us. Doesn’t matter. We’re on to the next one now, see where that takes us. Nightstar gave us the platform we needed and that means freedom.”

  “Not to all bands.” She recalled several who’d had to fight to follow their musical dream rather than what their management and record companies wanted. Which was usually more of the same.

  “We have Chick. He’s a straight-up guy. We paid more than one lawyer to advise on the contract we signed with him. Even back then we knew it was worth the cost, because of all those people who went before us with other managers and lost. Chick’s earned us far more than his fifteen percent. So now we can spread our wings.”

  “What do you mean? It sounds like you didn’t before. Nightstar is like nothing I’ve ever heard. It opened my ears.”

  He kissed her, a gentle, closed-mouth salute. “Thanks for that. We’re free of market constraints, the demands of record companies, only have to listen to our fans and ourselves. We want to go further. I’ve discovered new instruments and I’d like to try them. So would Jace.” The band’s other guitarist, the man who provided the atmosphere for their songs. Slow, Southern, devastating in both appearance and inventiveness. Not as devastating as the man standing before her. Nobody was that gorgeous, not to her.

  “I could never imagine that. When I sang, I interpreted. I write songs but nothing like yours and they’re not that good. No…” She stopped his lips with her forefinger. “You think I don’t know? They’re nice, pleasant, cute. I might even get a record deal if I asked but they’re not innovative, different or brilliant. Just pretty tunes I can sing around the house. I don’t need the money so I probably won’t sell them.”

  “Laura has a record deal. She does twisted folk. Her words.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  She could see a spark of something in his eyes. Speculation, perhaps. The only time he’d heard one of her songs was in circumstances where she could have sung him Baa, Baa, Black Sheep and he’d have told her it was genius. He was wrong.

  “I’ll sing something to you when we’re not naked.” The spark in his eyes increased when she said it but she knew that particular expression. Desire. “Do we have time?”

  “It only takes four minutes.” A joke, reminding them of what they could do in the interval between movements of a concerto. They’d practiced but only got it down to five minutes, which was still too long for their personal bet.

  Taken by searing lust, she could only think of one thing. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “Upstairs.”

  The wooden floor in his bedroom had a darker, warmer hue and his bed dominated the space—a large, low affair, facing the windows. Two sides of glass. Not that she had time to admire the view.

  After she stepped over the threshold he lifted her and almost threw her on the bed. “All fours,” he ordered. “Get on all fours in the middle.” From his voice, he was as driven as she.

  Heat rising in her body, she shucked her clothes faster than she’d ever done before. She barely had the presence of mind to toss them over a chair before he was on her and then in her. She didn’t even know if he’d donned a condom but she relied on him to do what was right. She’d never trusted any other man that far before but she did this one. She’d trust him with her life.

  After touching her pussy, pushing two fingers inside, presumably to ensure her wetness, he climbed on the bed behind her and thrust in. Wrapping his hand around her waist, he pulled her up to lean against him, her back to his front. She moaned, turned her head to kiss him. “I’ll never get enough kisses,” she said. “Save some for me.”

  “All of them,” he promised but she knew he meant for now. Shoving any attempt at melancholy away, she gave herself to the moment. It worked as it had before and she easily slipped into the sensations they were creating together. “Can’t be long,” he gasped, thrusting deep inside her. “But I won’t stop. Not for anything. And I won’t come without you.”

  Oh shit, she remembered now. The madness of the moment had driven the thought from her mind. He was expecting a delivery. She just hoped the janitor or that guy behind the desk downstairs would take it for him. Because she knew exactly how Riku felt. Desperate. “It won’t last long.” Already the heat was growing exponentially, the fever of lovemaking with him, this man, this perfect man. He spread his hand over her lower stomach, urged her back against him so he could thrust deeper and harder. He caressed her breast with his other hand, tweaked her nipple in the way he knew she loved. “I should get them pierced.”

  His answer came in the form of a low moan. Obviously he approved of the idea and she’d have a new place to wear jewelry. She couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t had it done before, except she’d been too busy to think of anything but the business for the last six years.

  His body slapped against hers, her buttocks quivering as he drew away just enough then back again, driving her relentlessly to completion. He didn’t even have to help her along with his fingers on her clit. She came on her own, gasping his name and bucking against him as he gave one low growl and pulsed deep inside her.

  If he hadn’t been wearing a condom he’d have drenched her, given her the chance to conceive a baby. Something she doubted she’d ever do in the past, something she didn’t know if she wanted but she knew one thing. She wanted him, naked, no barrier of any kind between them. Madness. She’d taken her pill erratically recently. Time to think about going on it properly again. That momentary yearning for his baby had jolted her back to reality.

  Thoughts chased through her head, seeming to work without her help. By the time she was safe he’d be gone. Both accepted their affair was temporary, if intense. Notions of making anything permanent couldn’t happen, even if part of her cried out for it.
They’d tried to take that path before and failed miserably.

  Silence, except for their gasps and then a shrill shriek echoed through the hushed stillness.

  The doorbell. Cyn started, the motion jolting her away from Riku. With a growled curse he slid off the bed and opened a hidden door. Not just a wardrobe, a small room, the kind of dressing room she dreamed of. Bright colors winked at her when he flicked on the light. He grabbed a black silk robe, plain enough for Riku, and left still belting it around himself, shooting a wry grin at her.

  Cyn flopped onto the bed. This room was something out of a movie or a fantasy. These places existed in the mind, not for real. She gazed out the window onto the vista of the downtown buildings. Beyond it lay the river, one of the two that forked around Manhattan and had helped to make New York pivotal to the history of the country. She’d studied it because she was considering applying for citizenship. She already had her green card. She liked being British too and the identity that gave her. Dual nationality? Possible.

  Again thoughts happened, arrived without her directing them. She lay and let them drift around her. Riku, everything centered on him right now. He’d just fucked her, both of them frantic. Last night he’d made love to her. Although making love and being in love were different, so she could accept them both. Just. And it was the L word, not the F word that made her jittery.

  She should have the word impossible tattooed somewhere on her body to remind herself. Her forearm, maybe. She lifted it, smiled at the unblemished skin and covered her eyes with it, giving herself a few minutes respite.

  The light had already softened, heading toward sunset. At this time of year, late January, daylight didn’t last long. She remembered nights like this at home. She’d hurry back from school to sit in front of the fire with a cup of hot soup and a piece of toast, children’s TV on the set in the corner.

  Now people had TVs they hung on walls, central heating instead of fires, microwaves instead of stovetops to heat their soup. Deep down little had changed. She still felt like that girl sometimes, untried, innocent, unsure but certain she didn’t want the same life as her parents. Although her father had been in the army, after the first few years her mother didn’t travel with him. When she was seven he came home for good and got a job at the nearby Territorial Army center, taking care of the big guns. She had a picture somewhere of herself sitting astride one of the wide barrels of the guns. At the time not quite realizing this was a weapon of mass destruction, not a piece of art or gym apparatus.

  Realization didn’t take longz after she saw TV footage featuring the same guns but it didn’t completely destroy her cozy family life. Only when her dad got cancer and died had her world fallen apart. They’d been left with more money than they’d realized they’d had, from his insurance policy, from the damages awarded by the court case and the money her dad had salted away for years without telling them.

  Even now she experienced the echo of the pain, numbed and bearable but still there. She’d never get to know him now. In her childhood all her cuddles came from her mother. Her father rarely touched her, although he’d been the best provider possible and during her early years he’d been more absent than present.

  She guessed that longing to know her father would stay there until the day she died. As would the agony of separating from Riku. She knew that too. Her best friend and her lover but for far too short a time. She’d see him with his usual entourage, maybe a woman on each arm. She’d learn to grit her teeth and smile because she had her own life and she refused to be anyone’s accessory. Riku couldn’t afford anything else.

  Ah shit, back to that again. She should forget, push herself back into the sunny place. She shut her eyes as the sound of low voices came from the floor below. No longer alone with her lover. This was his life but not hers.

  The garden. She’d visited an old house once, in the heart of England. July, a sunny day but fine days in England were usually gentle, nothing like the harsh blaze of other places she’d visited since then. This house held a place in her heart and it always would. She went there to calm herself and restore her peace of mind, remind herself of all the joyous things in her life. She lay on soft, springy grass, cut short by an attentive gardener. The scent of roses in full bloom surrounded her, blended into the air she breathed, letting her senses drift and relax. She clenched her fists, released them, did it five times. Then her toes as she slowly worked her way up her body to her head, the most resistant part of her to unwind.

  This time it worked. Good sex and the relaxation technique left her drifting. Even his voice, breaking into her mood, didn’t change or phase it.

  “Beautiful.”

  Opening her eyes, she saw him at the bottom of the bed, watching her. “Sorry.”

  “Were you doing yoga?”

  “Kind of.” She rolled her shoulders. “Yes. It’s good.”

  “It’s very good. I use it myself sometimes. After a gig. I need to dress. I’ll use the other bedroom so relax, shower and pick something for us to eat. Nothing messy.” He grinned. “I’m going black and white.” He flipped his hair. “I dyed it this afternoon, decided that I could probably pass better in New York if I didn’t have that fucking purple hair and went back to my natural color. I rethought my costume. My dresser’s arrived, so could you find something for him to eat too?”

  “What does he eat?”

  “Like me, anything. No known allergies. Best to keep away from the spicy stuff though. We have to do a news conference tonight. Don’t want to send waves of garlic over the assembled press. Though I don’t know why I bother because they don’t.” He grinned, leaned forward and tapped the side of her butt. “If you don’t get up and hide your gorgeous body we’re not going anywhere for a long time and I’ll end up wearing jeans onstage.”

  “When do we have to leave?”

  “Do you want to see the opening band?”

  She was ashamed to realize she didn’t know who it was. She shook her head. “Not particularly.”

  “We can leave together if you like. Do you want us to go public?”

  Fuck, she hadn’t considered that. She sat up, leaning back on her elbows. He watched her, interest making his mouth curve and his eyes sparkle. “Anyone you’re with is public, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but it’s not too bad. We’d make the gossip blogs but not the front pages or the main news. If they show pictures it’ll be in passing. So do you want to take that risk?”

  She couldn’t believe he’d asked her. “Are you kidding? I’m a New York store owner and we’re all fighting to turn a profit these days. I’d ask you to wear my necklace onstage but it’s a bit small.”

  He held up his hand. “My turn to say ‘are you kidding’? Yeah, sure I am. It’s perfect. It’ll go with the look. I usually arrive at the venue in ordinary clothes and change there. This place is too good and far too comfortable to miss the chance of getting ready here instead of some sleazy changing room.”

  She smiled. He was wearing her product onstage before thousands of people and they were filming it for a video release. She might not get a name check but her designs were distinctive. Of course, it meant imitators would spring forth but that might do her good too. She was already on to the next collection, so she’d limit the danger by making it very different than the last one. That would work so well.

  She’d call Maddy and Janey and let them know. Design a collection for the cheaper range, based on the trash theme, because she’d have new customers for sure.

  While she pondered the possibilities, she realized what Riku was doing for her but when she opened her mouth to thank him he shook his head. “I like the stuff, that’s all. I’m not wearing it because you’re my girlfriend. It’s because I love your jewelry and it goes perfectly with one of my outfits. Everywhere we visit, the guys go to the record store and I trawl the vintage outlets, getting clothes and jewelry. My music is in my head and on my MP3 players. I don’t need vinyl like Zazz does.” He grinned. “Don’t get carr
ied away though. Music always comes first and always will.”

  “I guessed.” Because it had for her. Once.

  She slid off the bed and turned away but paused and glanced back, Betty Grable style, hands on hips, gazing over her shoulder in a sexy, come-hither way. Before he reached her she laughed, kicked up her heels and raced to the door at the end of the room that she hoped led to a bathroom, not another clothes closet.

  She was in luck. If she hadn’t had the drop on him he’d have caught up with her for sure. She heard his frustrated growl and laughed. “I’ll see you later, big boy. Go get dressed.”

  Wowser, this room was another jaw-dropper. A large, square caramel-and-cream marbled surround framed a tub set against one window, the double faucet in the center. No gold dolphins, nothing overelaborate but an invitation to linger. She wondered if the marble was heated or if the water did the job. She checked the control panel set into one wall.

  Holy hell, it was. She’d only imagined that to try to think of something this room didn’t have. It had a wooden floor, that tub with a view, because naturally this had the big windows too and behind the tub, a shower. It had its own glass enclosure. A bunch of towels hung from a heated towel rail just outside.

  She didn’t need any further invitation but stepped in, groaning with pleasure when hot water instantly cascaded over her. Her shower trickled compared to his, although she’d always considered it great before. This one gave her a tropical rainstorm all of her own, without the wind or the danger. Shamelessly she stole his shampoo and conditioner and then his shower gel. They were all unperfumed, smelling only of what they were, soapy and clean. Maybe that itself was a perfume but when she finished all she smelled of was clean.

  She stepped out the shower and dried herself while watching the city fade into night, the lights come on in the buildings opposite. New York sparkled and glittered by night, an event she loved about this place. The busyness, the sense of something always going on, constant distractions if she wanted them, all worked for her. Although this place was an oasis in the middle of all that. Beautiful but anything less like a Bedouin tent was hard to imagine.