by BETH KERY
And then sweet.
She blinked dazedly when he lifted his head a moment later. She felt flushed and flustered. “What’d I do to deserve that?” she wondered.
“You’re you.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling, extremely pleased by his answer.
“Are you worried about Zara?” he asked. “Because I can talk to Eric, if you are.”
“I don’t know. Zara has always been able to take care of herself. Maybe I should be the one to talk to her. She tends to get herself in too deep sometimes. And Eric isn’t the guy she should be doing that with. This situation isn’t,” she said, thinking. She glanced up at Asher, suddenly uneasy.
“You’re wondering how smart you’re being. Aren’t you?” he asked grimly, stepping over to the sink and turning on the tap with his wrist. “With me,” he added, glancing over his shoulder.
She couldn’t think of what to say.
He finished washing his hands and reached for a towel. He tossed it aside a moment later and walked over to her, standing only a few inches away. She looked up when he grabbed both her hands at once.
“You said earlier there were a few reasons Zara and Eric make you uncomfortable. Is one of the reasons that they remind you of us?”
He’d hit the nail on the head. She nodded.
“I worry about the same thing. That’s what I was trying to say last night. But now . . . I think maybe I was wrong.”
“You do?”
He nodded slowly. She stared up at him, caught by something she read in his eyes. He stepped closer to her, so that their fronts brushed together. As always, the feeling of his body against hers created a vacuum in her lungs. It made her flesh prickle with awareness and pleasure. It confused her too. He interfered with her common sense. He cradled her jaw and tilted her face upward. She could still smell the soap on his freshly washed hands.
“I know it seems like everything is against us. We’re both only here for a short period of time. You have to lie to your family and sneak away to see me, and I can tell how much you hate that. I start a new job across the country in August. Neither of our parents would approve of us seeing each other.”
She flinched slightly beneath his cradling hands. She’d assumed that his parents would never approve, given what she’d learned about them so far. But suspecting and hearing him say it were two different things. Had the truth hit him this hard, when she’d said her parents wouldn’t allow her to date him? If so, she hadn’t given him enough credit for his stoic reaction.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking regretful. He’d noticed her flinch. “I thought it would have been obvious. The only person my parents would probably ever approve of when it comes to me is some female version of Eric.”
She laughed softly, the hurt fading a little. “That’s a scary thought.”
“You’re telling me,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter what my parents think. That’s not why I said it. I was just—”
“Stating the facts. I get it.”
A silence swelled between them, so full of unsaid things, so heavy with doubts.
So rife with longing.
He suddenly looked reluctant.
“What?” she whispered.
“We could stop now. That’d be the smart thing to do.”
“No,” she said emphatically, a frisson of panic going through her at the thought of never seeing him again.
“I’m not saying I want to. Just the opposite. But with everything stacked against us—”
“It would be the wise thing,” she agreed against her will.
“Before we go deeper.”
She looked up into his eyes. For a split second, she saw it all there. The promise. The glint of treasure.
The deeper.
Tears stung her eyes. How could she be expected to give up on that?
“Laila?”
She swallowed thickly, hearing his unsaid question.
“Just give me a little time to think about it,” she replied thickly, ducking her head and moving away.
• • •
They barbecued and ate once it had cooled off on the deck. Laila was determined to enjoy herself . . . to forget for the moment Asher’s suggestion that perhaps they should put a stop to what was happening between them. Besides, his warm glances at her and frequent touches told her loud and clear he was as torn about the decision as she was.
Asher asked her if she wanted to take a walk down to the beach at sunset, and she agreed.
“Look at all those colors,” she murmured as they walked along the edge of the lake and she stared out at the fireball of the sun dipping into the pale blue water. “It’s so beautiful . . . but I resent it a little.”
“Resent it?”
She gave him a sheepish smile. “It’s the ending of a day we’ll never get back.”
“Does that mean you had a good time tonight?”
“I did,” she said earnestly, studying his somber, tanned face cast in the crimson and golds of sunset. “Did you?”
“Yeah. I did,” he said, giving her hand a warm squeeze. But did his smile look a little strained?
“I brought some of my music.”
She didn’t know what made her say it then, when they were both wrestling with their doubts. Or maybe she did know. She resented the barriers that stood between them so much, it made her want to risk something . . .
“You mean recordings of some of the singers and bands you like?”
“I brought those too. But I meant that I brought some of the music and lyrics I’ve written myself.”
He walked in front of her and stopped. She halted in front of him.
“They’re back at the house?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling nervously. “In my purse.”
“Those prized notebooks that you’ve never shown anyone before?” he clarified. A small grin tilted his mouth. She realized he looked tremendously pleased. It made her heart start to drum in her ears. He reached up and moved a lock of her hair away from her face, smoothing it against her shoulder. She shivered beneath his touch, feeling the heat of his fingers beneath the thin beach cover-up she wore. He felt her tremble. She could tell by the sudden smoldering quality in his eyes.
“That’s right. Not another soul. Until you,” she managed to say.
“I’m honored.”
She pulled a face. “Don’t say that until you’ve actually seen them. You might decide you’re cursed. They’re probably horrible.”
“They won’t be,” he said. His finger caressed the side of her neck. The tiny, fine hairs on her nape and ears prickled at his touch.
“I don’t know how you could possibly say that with so much certainly,” she told him frankly.
“I don’t either,” he mused, sounding genuinely puzzled. His lips brushed hers. Their mouths rubbed together, clung and parted. “But I do,” he whispered, before he pulled her against him, and their mouths fused.
Laila knew she’d always remember that kiss: Asher, the doubts of the dying day and the promise of tomorrow, all of it mingling to form a fragile, perfect moment.
They stayed on the beach for a while, walking and talking until they stood beneath a midnight dome sprinkled with thousands of stars. He told her why he’d always dreamed of becoming a foreign correspondent. “I want to learn about different people and cultures. I don’t want to just read about history, or watch it pass by while I sit on the sidelines. I want to be on that boat. I want to witness it firsthand.”
“You’re not scared? Of going to strange countries and not knowing anyone? Of not even understanding the customs or the language?”
“A little,” he admitted. “But that’s part of the challenge. You can’t open up your world and learn anything new without stepping into unfamiliar territory. That’s how you know you’re growing, when things g
et a little uncomfortable.”
She thought of how nervous she’d been on her first day of class at Wayne State, and she hadn’t even had to worry about moving onto campus.
“I guess I’m a coward,” she said softly.
He ran his fingertip up and down her arm until she shivered in awareness.
“You’re not a coward. You brought your music tonight, didn’t you?”
She nodded.
“I know how hard that must have been, when you always keep it so private. Let’s go inside. I want to see it. Hear it.”
When they returned to the terrace, Zara and Eric were gone.
“Where’s Zara?” Laila asked Tahi.
Both Rudy and Tahi pointed toward the house in the direction of the upper floor, wry expressions on their face. Laila knew they were referring to one of the bedrooms. Heat rushed into her cheeks. She felt a little nauseated. Zara and Eric weren’t Asher and her. Still, their progressing intimacy—their obvious sexual chemistry—created some type of parallel to Asher and her. While she worried about both Zara and herself getting hurt, she craved closeness with Asher even more.
It stunned her to realize that was where her slight nausea originated. It came from acknowledging and confronting that need head-on.
Asher put his hand at the small of her back and moved his head in the direction of the house. She nodded in agreement. They walked inside together. She was highly aware of Tahi’s and the guys’ speculative stares on their backs.
Laila grabbed her bag. Asher took her hand and started up the stairs.
God, where was he taking her? A bedroom? She felt a little dizzy and weak in the knees. When he led her into a room and turned on several lamps, she sighed in mixed disappointment and relief. They were in a pretty sitting room with feminine, elegant décor. He waved toward a large bay window where a baby grand stood.
“Do you play?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said, walking over to admire the fine piano. “My grandmother taught me. Whose is this?”
“My mother’s. This is her sitting room,” he said, glancing around and taking in their surroundings. His vague curiosity made her think he hadn’t been in the room in a long time.
“Does she play in here often?”
“No. She did when I was really little, but not anymore. This room doesn’t get used much. Music just kind of . . . faded away from her life, I guess.”
“That’s so sad.”
“Yeah. It is. Promise me you’ll never let that happen to you.”
She laughed softly.
“No, I’m serious. Promise me that even if you end up being some kind of business mogul, you’ll never give up your music.”
She snorted at the idea of her ever becoming a titan of business. Asher continued to appear dead serious, though. So she promised him.
“But only because I can’t imagine music not being a part of my life. It would be like . . . giving up air or something.”
He pulled back the piano bench. “Since I don’t read music, I thought you might want to play some of what you’ve written.”
She glanced back at the open door anxiously. Asher strode across the room and shut it. “They won’t be able to hear out on the terrace. Neither will Eric and Zara. Eric’s bedroom is on the northern corner of the house.”
She felt her cheeks go hot at his matter-of-fact assessment.
“Okay. Well . . .” She inhaled for courage and walked over to the bench. “Here goes nothing.”
“Can I sit next to you, so I can see the lyrics?” he asked once she’d sat and pulled one of her well-worn music notebooks from her bag.
“Yeah,” she said, scooting over. She played a few notes, warming up. Her fingers faltered, causing a jarring chord. She glanced over at Asher apologetically. “I’m really nervous,” she confessed. “No human ear but mine has ever heard this stuff before.”
“Don’t be nervous,” he said gruffly. He ducked his head and kissed her, swift and potent. “Music is part of who you are, right? Never be embarrassed about any part of yourself. You’re too special.”
He’d said something similar last night, when she’d climaxed so thunderously at his mere touch. It was far too easy to remember every detail of that moment, feeling his body next to hers, breathing his scent, seeing the heat in his radiant eyes.
Straining to calm herself, she propped open the notebook. She chose a bluesy, soulful ballad she’d recently written in less than two hours in a manic burst of creative energy. It was one of those rare songs that had just clicked for her. Highly conscious of Asher’s gaze on those virgin pages, she began to play. Her fingers loosened as the melody began to flow around them. Every once in a while, she’d sense his gaze moving off the pages of music and transferring to her profile.
“Sing,” he said quietly when the music wound back to the refrain once again.
At his simple command, the words flew past her lips. They’d already been crowding there in her throat, eager to be released. A feeling of electricity pulsed through her. It wasn’t just the words that’d been liberated from her throat.
She’d been freed. The music had liberated her.
Asher had.
The final chord hung in the air around them. Silence descended. A tightness started up in her chest. It grew hard to breathe. Slowly, she glanced over at Asher, eager for his response. Dreading it. His expression looked rigid. His stare blazed down at her.
“You’re incredibly talented. It was amazing,” he said.
Pleasure tingled in her limbs. She’d done it. She’d exposed her music, revealed a part of herself. And he’d liked it. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure . . .”
“Be sure.” She blinked at his fierceness. Nervous laughter bubbled past her lips.
“It’s not that simple, Asher.”
“Yeah. It is.” Suddenly, he cursed heatedly under his breath. He reached for her. “Come here.”
When she realized what he wanted, she went willingly. He slid to the middle of the bench and she came over him, straddling his lap. He opened his hands at the back of her waist and hauled her closer along his thighs. Her eyes sprang wide. He was aroused.
From listening to me play?
“Asher—”
He cut off her breathless query about his sudden intensity by reaching for the tie on her cover-up. She watched, her heart in her throat, as he solemnly drew on the strings. He parted the thin cotton fabric, revealing the tops of her breasts above her bikini top. Shivers poured through her. She went still at something she saw flash into his eyes.
“Believe me, I’ve been trying so hard not to touch you. I’ve been holding back all night. I can’t do it anymore. Not after hearing you sing. Not after experiencing that part of you. You shine so bright in my eyes, it hurts, Laila.”
Then he was pressing his lips against the swell of her breast. She whimpered softly. His mouth burned a place deep inside her.
“I don’t think this . . . thing between us is going to come around every day. Do you?” he asked.
She saw him through a veil of tears. She didn’t know where they’d come from, only that they were suddenly there when she’d watched his face as he told her how bright she shone.
“No,” she whispered.
“I know what I said earlier. We could give up on it all. Or we could plow through. Hold on tight. Hope that an answer eventually comes to us. I know what I want to do. What do you want, Laila?”
“To hold on tight,” she said without hesitation.
She saw something flash across his expression. Happiness. Triumph?
“Then that’s what we’re going to do,” he said grimly before his mouth seized hers. His arms closed around her. She clutched onto his shoulders, feeling herself heating. Softening, until it felt like she was melting into him. Holding her tightly against him, he moved her, rubbing their s
exes together until the friction made her moan shakily into his mouth.
He sealed their kiss. Holding her stare, he began to draw her cover-up off her. She lifted her arms, mesmerized by something she read in his eyes. He tossed the garment aside. His gaze dropped over her. She’d never been so aware of her body. Her skin tingled. Her nipples pinched tight. He lifted his hand and rubbed one distended tip through her swimsuit. Her hips jerked at the contact, her sex grinding down on his erection. A muscle flickered in his tense jaw. Heat swept through her cheeks, lips and chest.
“So sensitive,” he murmured, as if to himself. She heard the awe in his tone. He reached behind her neck and drew on the tie of her bikini top. The fabric slithered off her breasts. For a few seconds, he just stared at her bared flesh while her heart hammered in her ears and she struggled to breathe.
“So beautiful,” he whispered, before he leaned forward and kissed a nipple with such tender, focused passion, her entire body shuddered with feeling.
• • •
He’d never known anything like her. Her entire body was like a live wire. He felt the tension fly into her muscles every time he touched her. He felt her tremble, even at the lightest of his touches.
She was like a rare treasure, resting there in his lap, her face luminous, her eyelids heavy with arousal, the lamplight sheening her smooth, golden-brown skin. Her breasts were medium-sized, firm and high, the globes perfectly round and pale next to her tan. He’d never seen more beautiful breasts. He hadn’t known a woman’s nipples could get so hard and erect. Unable to stand it a moment longer, he leaned forward to feel her against his lips.
When he felt her tremble at the simple caress, he groaned and took his first taste.
Her flavor filled him. Laila, distilled. Sweet. Addictive. He rubbed his tongue against a rigid nipple, absorbing her tremors. She grabbed at his head, the sensation of her fingernails scraping his scalp raising goose bumps along his arms. He cupped her ass, pulling her tighter to him. Her back arched. Her hips shifted subtly as she rode his rigid cock. Pleasure suffused him. She was so soft and supple here . . . but her nipple was diamond hard, he thought wildly as his lips and tongue charted her breast. He drew on her firmly, absorbing her precious, delicate shudder.