Be Careful What You Wish For (11 page)

Chapter Sixteen

DINNER WAS QUIET at first, with exchanges being limited to “Please pass the butter” and “Can you hand me the Italian dressing when you’re done with it?”  I felt like I was under a microscope.  But I shouldn’t have.  The men weren’t even looking at me and were only acknowledging me when they had to.  However, that was the real problem.

When we came in, Mark said it had been habit when he’d set the table. 
Kage had another place setting before I could say a word about it.  After several stiff minutes of steak knives scraping plates and beer bottles hitting the table—the only sounds in the house—the guys struggled to converse.  Jason started talking about his day at work, and I was able to figure out he worked at a music/ video/ bookstore.  It took a little longer for me to figure out he was the boss.  Or no.  Not the boss.  Almost the boss.  Jason was a funny guy and pretty nice, and I felt like the only reason
he
was shunning me was because it was expected.  I got the idea that Mark worked at the mill too but that he and Kage were in entirely different departments.  I’d driven past the mill lots of times, and the place was huge.  They talked like they had some of the same policies and procedures…but like they didn’t see each other on a daily basis or know the same people.  I’d have to ask Kage later.

I’d finished my salad when Diesel finally joined the conversation.  He drove some sort of delivery van—for a furniture company?  I wasn’t quite clear.  But I wondered if maybe he used to drive a
semi, considering what the guys called him.  Or maybe it was really his name.  I had no idea.

When we’d talked about it the other day, I’d been so excited to see
Kage and these guys play, but now I felt like a worm.  It was more than evident to me that none of them wanted me there.  Well, no, not true.  Kage wanted me there.  When Diesel kept going on and on about a fight he’d gotten in with a coworker on Monday (a fist fight, not simply an altercation), I felt Kage’s hand on my knee.  At first, I thought it was his leg bumping mine, but then I realized it was his hand, and he was cupping my knee.  I thought maybe he was trying to give me silent reassurance that everything would be okay if I just stuck it out.

I hoped so, because I felt more uncomfortable than I had in a long time.

I glanced to the side, because we were sitting next to each other at the table, and I looked in his eyes, smiling, letting him know that I appreciated his attention.  But there was a look, something I didn’t quite catch at first, because he immediately peeled his eyes away, as though he didn’t want to get caught by his friends.  I took the hint and cut a piece of steak, returning my gaze to my plate where it had been for most of the meal.

He kept his left hand on my knee.  It was warm and
firm, and it took a few seconds for me to register that he wasn’t pulling it back to himself.  That was when he started sliding it up my thigh and under my skirt.  Holy God.  It was almost instantaneous how fast I grew wet and desirous, ready to be touched by him, but I suspected that having my boyfriend finger me to orgasm in front of his three best friends who already hated my ass would be a bad move.  I hesitated, but I decided I would get up from the table if he moved his hand any farther.

He squeezed my thigh and inched up a little more, and I almost dropped my fork.  He squeezed one more time as if to assure me he was done teasing, because then he brought his hand back above the table so he could cut another piece of steak.  I glanced over at him without moving my head and he flashed me a small grin.  I inhaled deeply.  Well, these other guys might
hate my ass, but it was only because the man beside me was as enamored of me as I was of him.  I hoped they would get over it.

After we were done eating, we all scraped our plates and loaded the dishwasher.  Everyone pitched in to get Mark’s kitchen clean so the guys could start playing.  We all got a new beer before heading to the
basement.

It was c
hilly down there.  It was unfinished—concrete floors and walls, and a couple of shelves along one wall.  It appeared to be the same size as the ground floor, but there were no walls.  It was wide open.  Mark wheeled out a few space heaters that had been hugging the wall, plugged them in, and turned them on.  I stood next to one before deciding to go back upstairs to grab my coat.  As I passed Diesel, he gave me a hateful look and that made me want to leave for good.  So I grabbed my coat upstairs, but instead of heading back to the basement where the guys were tuning their instruments, I went into the bathroom and leaned against the counter, trying to decide if I wanted to find a place to sit tight or if I wanted to be brave and sit downstairs with a look of defiance on my face.  Not sitting in the basement would be giving up.  It would, on some level, be cowardly, and I knew that until his friends accepted me, I’d have to get used to their coldness.  While it upset me on a personal level, I could understand where they were coming from when I really thought about it.  Either they thought I broke up Kage’s marriage and I was here flaunting it (before the wedding corpse was even cold, so to speak) or they simply didn’t like a woman barging in on their guy time, especially practice time.  If that was the case, I didn’t want to sit in there.  I knew they were creating and working, and I didn’t want to interfere with it or make them feel awkward.  If those had been the only vibes I thought I was getting, I could live with it and I’d even offer to stay out.  Unfortunately, I was positive that wasn’t all I was feeling.

So I looked at my face in the mirror as though reasoning with myself, weighing the pros and cons that would influence my decision.
  I felt like Scarlett in
Gone with the Wind
, getting dressed before Melanie’s birthday party, only I didn’t have a Rhett demanding that I had to go.  I was my own Rhett too, chiding myself for not moving, not going in there and dealing with whatever cold shoulders they wanted to give me.  It was then, as I was focusing on my breathing and working up my courage, that I heard a tap on the door.  I cleared my throat.  “Yes?”

It was
Kage.  “Everything okay in there?”

I hadn’t lied to this man yet, and I wasn’t about to now. 
“No, not really.”

“Are you sick?”

“No.”  I faced the door and turned the knob, peeking my head out.

“What’s wrong?”

I opened the door farther, inviting him in.  I lowered my voice.  “I feel really awkward around those guys.  I know they resent me, and that’s fine, but I can’t decide if I want to hang out in the basement.  I don’t know if they’re hating me because they think I’m the reason why you broke up with Fay or if they just don’t want me to watch you practice.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me close after closing the door behind him.  “Or maybe they’re pissed because
I
got the girl.”

I raised my eyebrows and smiled in spite of myself.  “Oh, that’s not it.”

“Maybe it is.”  I knew he was full of shit, but I didn’t mind when his lips brushed mine or when he drowned me in a kiss.  It was easy to forget what I’d been feeling just moments ago.  “They’re just going to have to get used to you.”  He scanned my eyes until he could see my understanding, and then he kissed me once more.  “Was it my imagination, or did you like my hand on your leg at the dinner table?”

If I
’d blushed easily, my cheeks would have turned pink then, because I was surprised at how well he’d learned to read me in such a short time.  My voice sounded hoarse and foreign to my ears when I responded.  “The naughty side of me wanted you to keep going.”

He grinned then and kissed me again as he positioned his hand under my skirt.  Instead of sliding up my thigh like earlier, though, he let his hand push my skirt up as he hooked his fingers in the front of my panties.  I sucked in a deep breath before he kissed me again.  Oh, that kiss was hot and one of the best I’d ever had, but my focus was not there.  It was on his fingers.  After he’d tugged the panties down mid-thigh, he slid a finger down my slit.  Yeah, I was a girl who’d found she liked sex early on and it had never taken much to get me going, but this guy was the ultimate.  He found, after moving
down a few centimeters more, that I was primed for him.  “I love that.”

Before I could
ask him to clarify, he was assaulting me on the mouth again but his finger hit its target.  My clit was swollen, wanting to feel his touch, and he’d granted that wish.  Just one stroke and I let out a soft moan around his lips.  “You like that, baby?”

My voice was just a breath. 
“Yeah.”

My fingers were digging into the flesh on his neck, my eyes closed but picturing his face in my head as he touched me.  It was perhaps the most delicious feeling I’d ever had, and that was saying something.
  He’d wedged his knee between my legs, my ass backed up against the counter.  He was almost teasing me, one slow, lazy stroke after the next, much like an old river meandering down its worn path.  I would have thought his technique wouldn’t be enough to get me going, and yet it left me teetering on the edge in seconds.  I could hear the way I was taking in breaths—sharp, ragged, desperate.  I wanted to come and yet I wanted to hang there on that lovely precipice, so fucking close and yet so far away.  Oh, God, it was close.  I could feel my muscles quivering just below the surface, so ready, wanting to give way and yet they couldn’t.  Not yet.  It was a sensation I relished, and I almost wished I could feel that way forever.

Then he changed techniques.  No more slow, drawn out, almost painful teasing.  He sped up the motion of that one index finger, no doubt one of the fingers he’d be using to pluck his bass
strings later (and if you don’t think that didn’t add to the excitement, you’re crazy), as though to put me out of my torture.  I gasped and felt my brain climb that much higher until it exploded and my knees clenched around his leg and I buried my mouth in his neck, trying to muffle my moans.  I tasted the skin on his neck and felt his hair against my lips, but I wasn’t fully registering those feelings.  It was almost as though I wasn’t fully there.

But as I came off my high, I realized I had one fist coiled in his hair while my other hand was clenched, my nails continuing to dig into his neck.  I forced myself to relax my muscles and I brought my hands to his neck and lifted my head to look at him.  He had half a grin on his face, but his eyes were dark, smoldering, and I hoped that meant he would fuck me right there.
  He kissed me then, deep, meaningful, full of promise, but he was no longer touching me.  Instead, he wrapped his hand around my lacy black panties and, as he released my lips, he squatted, pulling the panties down my legs.  He looked up at me and raised an eyebrow.  I figured out that he wanted me to lift my feet so he could remove them off my body.

What the hell did he plan to do with my underwear?

I scanned his eyes.  As with everything Kage, I had to trust him.  So I lifted my leg, allowing him to pull the panties down over my boot and off my foot.  Then I repeated with my other leg until the panties were free of my body.  He grasped them in his right hand and held my thigh with his left and kissed my leg just above my knee.  I sucked in a breath, curious as to his next move.  But he stood then and kissed me once more.  “Any minute now, they’re gonna notice we’re both gone.  Let’s go.”  I smiled at him as he folded my panties into a square and tucked them into his pocket.  He winked.  “That way you’re close to me all night.”

Close
to
him?  Oh, hell, no.  With that thought in mind, I knew I’d be
close
all night long…until round two.

Chapter Seventeen

OH, BUT
I had forgotten about the downers in his band.  They’d seemed to be chatting all right until Kage and I showed back up in the basement.  I should have asked Kage where his bedroom was and just hung out there.  But I was already back downstairs, so I forced a smile and popped open another beer.  Maybe I could relax a little and their coldness wouldn’t bother me as much then.

Kage
and the guys talked amongst themselves for a little bit and then Kage said, “We’re gonna start with something you know…a cover we’ve been working on.  It’s not exactly like the original, but you’ll recognize it.”  He looked over at Mark and then he turned back to me.  “And then we’ll play some of our own stuff.  Let’s see if you know what this is.”  Holy shit.  As soon as the guitars started playing, I knew exactly what it was.  It was a cover of Bullet for My Valentine’s “Scream Aim Fire.”  I knew my eyes lit up.  Kage must have remembered that I said they were my favorite band.  He was in front of the mike, playing his bass, and at first I wondered why he even had a microphone.  I realized soon after, though, that I wouldn’t have been able to hear him as well over the music if not for his voice being amplified.  Jason was on the drum kit with Diesel and Mark on guitars.  No, they didn’t sound exactly like BFMV, but they were damn good.  I was impressed by Jason’s work on the drums.  Hell, I was impressed by all of them.  And when Kage started singing, I thought I was going to melt.  He had a sexy voice anyway, but singing?  Holy shit.  My blood was pumping.

And then I remembered my panties were in his pocket.

I had to stop thinking about that.  I had no idea how long they’d play, and I didn’t want to be aroused that entire time.  I wanted to enjoy listening to them.

So I focused on the music.  The guitars
played the tune I recognized but sounded different.  It was cool.  And Kage’s voice was lower than the original, but they had put their own spin on it.  It wasn’t just a duplication—not that I would have minded.  So I stood, moving to the music and enjoying it.  I wasn’t full-on headbanging, but the music was hard to ignore.  I caught myself singing along too, and I was looking at Kage, but I didn’t want to stare at him.  I was afraid it might make him uncomfortable.  So I watched the other guys in the band too, trying to focus more on their instruments, because I knew if it had been me standing and playing, I would have been unnerved having someone stare at me while I played.

When they finished the song,
Kage raised his eyebrows and asked, “You like?”

I smiled big then. 
“Yeah!”

The guys exchanged a few words amongst themselves and launched into the next song.  I listened hard, trying to see if it was a tune I recognized, but it wasn’t.  I sat on the
carpeted steps—
carefully
, because I didn’t want everyone to see my pantiless crotch—and let the music wash over me.  Kage’s voice was low, smooth, and a little gritty.  It was sexy.  Oh, I couldn’t let myself go there…not just yet.  So I also focused on the music.  It was good. 
They
were good.  After several songs, I could hear a distinct style.  A lot of bands starting out didn’t have a sound at first, because they were still finding their way, so they’d sound like a mishmash of their favorites, but I could hear the elements that made their band their own.

I was struggling, trying to remember what
Kage had told me his band’s name was, and then I remembered—Pretty Little Lies.  I still found that interesting.  I wondered if it had any significance other than sounding cool.

Probably, but my mind couldn’t focus t
here.  I was too busy enjoying the music and trying to hear all the words Kage was singing.

After over an hour of playing, I was beginning to appreciate them, and I think the guys relaxed some.  They didn’t look nearly as hostile as they had before.  Maybe that was because playing the music did the same for the creators as it did for the fans.  Metal had always been my rock, the thing I’d turned to when my whole world was falling apart.  If my mom was busy doing her irresponsible flighty thing or I’d had a friend betray a confidence or I’d felt like an outcast (which had happened all the time when I was a kid and
even a teenager), I always had the music to turn to.  I could let out my rage and my anger, forget my sadness, and just drown in the music.  I would be better for it.  I
was
better for it.  What was funniest was it was like a hidden part of my personality.  People nowadays would meet me in class and get to know me for my mind—my take on different pieces of literature or my analysis of a poem—and then they’d find out I was a metalhead inside, and they found it funny…maybe because I “cleaned up” so well.  But I could (and had) analyzed many a lyric as often as I had a poem.  Metal had been and would always be a huge part of my life, and when people got close, they learned that pretty quickly.

So it was no wonder that I was enjoying the guys’ practice.  They had talent.  I could see them going far
if they decided they wanted to.  Now I wanted to see them play for an audience.  Could they maintain their cool in front of hundreds of screaming fans?  If they could, they had it.

At that point, they played the same song four times, reworking parts and trying new things.  I gathered it was their latest creation, and they’d played all the other music either as a warm up or just for me.  I was glad they had.  I found it interesting to see them work out the elements to this particular song.  Picking up on their discussion, it sounded like it was their first time incorporating Mark’s solo into the mix.
  They were trying to tweak it and smooth it into the song, but Diesel and Jason had also added some new things into it.  They would pause and replay sections, sometimes trying something different, other times listening again to see if it was what they wanted.

Watching them
work was fascinating.  It was really cool seeing the song evolve into something more.  And, as I sat quietly, no doubt an eager look on my face, the guys almost forgot I was there, but when they did, the coldness was gone.  They realized I was a true fan and could see how much I enjoyed their sound, and, I suppose, that made it harder for them to hold onto any animosity.

Kage
must have known.  Not once had he offered to smooth things over, and I suspected he had his reasons.  If he’d stood up for me, he would have had a battle on his hands, especially if his friends loved Fay.  They had been quite friendly the night I’d met them all, but Kage’s marriage had fallen apart since then, and I was the obvious target.  So, even if there was no love loss between them and Fay, they surely saw me as a chink in their friend’s armor.

I finished the beer a
nd just kept watching them fine-tune the song.  When they played it for the last time, it sounded damn good, and I said so.  I stood, careful to make sure my skirt didn’t hike up my legs, and I clapped as they ended the song, having played it all the way through with all their changes.  “Wow.  That was absolutely incredible.  What a fantastic song.”

Kage
grinned, a smile that filled his eyes.  “You like it?”

“Love it.  Damn, you guys are really good.”

Jason stood, stretching his neck, and laid his sticks down.  “You’re just saying that.  You actually want us to quit playing.”

I laughed. 
“No, seriously.  I can’t wait to see you guys play for a crowd.  I bet you get them pumped.”

Kage
shrugged.  “We’re still working on that.”  He glanced over at Mark.  “I’m getting better about it.”

Mark nodded.  “He used to have to work hard at not getting sick.”

Aw.  That melted my heart.  My perfect Kage had a bit of a weakness.  He said, “Yeah, so I suffered from a little stage fright.  I got over it.”

Mark said, “In all fairness, yeah, you did.  You’re getting good at pumping them up
now.”

I got a little closer.  “Well, maybe I could help with that.”

“How?”

“It always helps to have an enthusiastic audience.”

Diesel was deadpan when he said, “You gonna lift your shirt and show us your tits from the crowd?”

I felt my face fall and I was about to decide to try laughing.  It was a joke, right?  But then I saw a shadow cross
Kage’s face and he said, “Don’t be a dick, Diesel.”

Diesel shrugged, lifting up his guitar to pull the strap off, and said, “Just
fuckin’ around.”

Kage
didn’t say anything else, but I saw his jaw clench.  That made me feel a lot better.  Maybe he wouldn’t force his friends to like me, but they didn’t dare act like assholes to me.

The guys packed up their equipment, but Jason left the drum kit.  It made sense.
  Why would he want to haul the drums back and forth?  He looked like he didn’t need much practice, although I was sure he probably had something set up at home too.

Kage
and I walked up the stairs in the middle of them.  He didn’t touch me, but I could sense his closeness.  I knew he was feeling the way I was, that he knew it would be better to keep his hands to himself.  We’d just scored a small victory with his friends.  They were beginning to accept me again and we didn’t want to push it.  Flaunting in their faces that Kage and I were undeniably smitten with each other would be a bad move.

After the guys left and Mark said he was going to watch the WWE show he’d saved on DVR,
Kage led me to his bedroom.  He paused in his doorway.  “I gotta take a leak.  Make yourself comfortable.  I’ll be right back.”

Oh.  Make myself comfortable?  Well, I needed to pay him back for that incredible orgasm he’d given me earlier in the evening.
  Hmm.  And he still had my panties in his pocket.  I decided then to take my blouse off after removing my coat.  He’d get to see my lacey black bra (the twin companion to the panties he’d kept), but I’d leave a little mystery.  The next question:  did I want to sprawl on the bed, inviting him to ravish me, or something else?

I looked around the room.  It was obvious that
Kage was a temporary guest.  There were several boxes in the corner next to a black upright piano against one wall.  There was a double bed and an old dresser with a mirror but no other frills.  This room was likely a spare bedroom for guests, Kage being the most recent one.  As I assessed my environment, I heard Mark’s TV in the other room, the roar of the crowd turned up loud.

He probably knew what his friend and I would be up to.

I moved the boxes off the dresser.  Granted, I didn’t know much about Mark, but he hadn’t seemed like a sentimental guy, and yet this dresser spoke volumes.  It was old and it didn’t go with any other décor in his house.  Everything else the man owned was modern and as new as possible.  This dresser, I knew, was older than I was.  It wasn’t in bad shape, but it was not modern.

The wood was dark and polished.  It was beautiful, and as I ran my hand over its top, I knew exactly how I would greet
Kage when he walked in the door.  I hoped he was ready, because I certainly was.