Beautiful Musician (4 page)

“
No.”

“
Did I hurt your
feelings?”

She shrugged.

“
Oh, Abby. Don’t you know
how much I want you?”

She blinked, her lashes fluttering
around those big blue eyes. “You want me?”

“
Fuck, yes. I could devour
you like a custard-filled pie.”

Her mouth tilted in a slightly crooked
smile. “I’m going to have to learn to make one of
those.”

“
You need to learn to make
buttercream frosting, too. And sprinkle those little candies on it.
‘Cause when you were sitting on my lap, that’s how good and sweet
and colorful you were to me.”

“
Then why won’t you stay
in my bed tonight?”

“
I just
shouldn’t.”

She searched my gaze. “Can’t you just
sleep beside me? Can’t you at least do that much?”

I was trying my damnedest to be good,
to earn my Boy Scout badges or whatever, but she wasn’t making it
easy. She could be persistent as hell when she wanted something.
“Yeah, I suppose I could do that. But I’m keeping my jeans
on.”

“
How do you normally
sleep?”

My skin went goose bumpy.
“Naked.”

She dropped her gaze to my fly. “I’ve
never seen a naked man, except in pictures.”

Did she have to go and look at me like
that? “Don’t do that.”

She ignored my order. Instead, she
stood there, like the sparkling little fairy she was. I’d written a
painfully romantic song about a blue-eyed fae, but I’d never played
it for her.

“
How many naked women have
you seen?” she asked.

“
Lots.” I fidgeted with
the leather bands around my wrist. They were starting to feel like
handcuffs. “There are girls who chase after guys like
me.”

“
I know what groupies are,
Seven.”

“
Then why did you ask me
that question?”

“
I just wondered if you
were sleeping with them.”

“
I was, but I’m not
anymore.”

“
Because of
me?”

My breath clamped in my throat. “Yes,
because of you. Now quit bugging me about this and go get your
pajamas on.”

“
If you’re going to sleep
in your jeans, then I’m going to sleep in my dress.”

“
Okay, fine.” I didn’t see
where it made a difference, as long as we were both relatively
clothed. “But we still need to brush our teeth.”

“
In case we
kiss?”

My pulse throbbed in all the wrong
places. “No, Abby. Because that’s what people do before they go to
bed.”

“
Oh, right. You know how I
forget that kind of stuff.”

She was smiling like an imp, which
told me that she hadn’t forgotten a damn thing. She’d only wanted
an excuse to bait me into kissing her. She was way more seductive
than any groupie I’d ever been with.

Innocently clever, I thought. Cleverly
innocent.

We went into the bathroom and brushed
our teeth, taking turns running the water and spitting into the
sink. It struck me as domestic, like something a married couple
would do.

I wondered what she would say if I
told her that I had fantasies about marrying her and planting
babies in her womb.

Invisible babies? Kids who weren’t any
more real than I was? The thought made me sad. And frustrated. And
everything I didn’t want to feel.

I removed my boots and tossed them in
the corner. I peeled off my shirt, too, and ditched it, as
well.

When I glanced up, Abby was staring at
the bareness I’d exposed.

I wasn’t rippling with muscle, but I
had a rockin’ body just the same. My chest was smooth and strong,
my abs were decently formed, and my jeans hung rather sexily at my
hips.

But what the hey: I looked the way
Abby wanted me to look when you considered that I was born of her
imagination.

“
Get your butt into bed,”
I said, sounding harsher than I intended. I turned out the main
light, leaving on the preferred nightlight for her.

She climbed under the covers. She was
still staring at me. I wanted to tell her to knock it off, but I
liked it, too.

“
Now you get your butt
into bed,” she said, sounding every bit as harsh as I
had.

Touché. The girl had moxie.

I slid in beside her. But I didn’t
move close enough to hold her.

She turned to face me. “Are you sure
you’re not going to kiss me?”

I said a silent prayer, asking the god
of sex to grant mercy on my Abby-starved soul. “Yeah, I’m
sure.”

She blew out a sigh, a sound of
disappointment. “What’s it like having a pierced
tongue?”

Damn. She was way too good at making
me suffer. “It was weird in the beginning, but I’m used to it now.
You should be used to it, too. I’ve had it for years, and I told
you about it when I first got it.”

“
I know, but we never
really discussed the specifics.” She angled her head. “Do you have
any other piercings? In places that I’m not allowed to
see?”

Jesus Lord. “No, smarty, I
don’t.”

“
Can I touch the one on
your tongue?”

“
Abby
.”

“
Just with my finger.
Please, Seven, just let me touch it.”

She’d resorted to begging. I could’ve
strangled her for that. I loved it when women begged. I stuck out
my tongue to let her cop a feel.

She reached out and rolled her finger
over the stainless steel knob on the barbell. “I’ll bet it makes
kissing hot.”

I pulled my wayward tongue back in my
mouth. It made other things hot, too, but I wasn’t going to discuss
my oral sex methods with her. “We need to change the
subject.”

“
And talk about
what?”

“
I don’t know.” Anything
that would take my mind off of ravaging her, of burying my face
between her legs and giving her my barbell treatment. “Just come up
with something and we’ll talk about it.”

“
I can’t think, not after
touching your piercing.”

Did she have to keep mentioning it?
Cripes, but I couldn’t think, either, not with how badly I wanted
her. As usual, Abby had left me in a whirlwind of heat and
fucked-up emotion.

Chapter Seven

I racked my brain, forcing my thoughts
in a non-sexual direction. “We can talk about the movie. Not you
sitting on my lap, but the film itself.”

She adjusted her head on the pillow.
“What’s there to say about the movie? It wasn’t the first time
we’ve seen it.”

“
I know, but there must be
something about it we can discuss.” I was using her other pillow,
the spongy softness cushioning the side of my face.

“
Maybe we can talk about
the different parts of 105,” she said. “That’s sort of like the
movie.”

She was right, in the sense that Room
105 was divided into three realms: the past, the present, and the
future. Going back to the future, as it were, was a way of life
there.

“
That works for me.” I was
willing to yap about anything that would take my mind off of
getting naked with her.

“
What’s your favorite 105
realm?” she asked.

I had a ready answer. “I like the
present one. It’s similar to being in this world. You wouldn’t
really know the difference, except for the surreal quality, I
guess. Things are brighter in 105, more intense.” I’d told her this
type of stuff before, but it was a safe conversation, so I went
with it.

“
Do you go to the past
realm very much?”

“
Not if I can help it.
It’s a bit too rough. Untamed, like what you’d expect if you were
going back in time.”

“
Unless you landed in the
fifties like in the movie. Carol has clothes from that era in her
shop. Poodle skirts and stuff.” She toyed with the ribbon at her
neckline. “This dress came from her place. I think it’s from the
eighties or maybe the nineties, but it looks like it could be from
now.”

“
Yeah, it does.”
Personally, I thought their family business was cool. Her aunt
owned a consignment store that carried vintage fashions and
furnishings. Not that Abby was interested in what they stocked. Her
sister was, though. Vanessa worked at the store and provided Abby
with most of her wardrobe, items Abby didn’t take care of. She
would probably wake up in the morning and consider herself ready
for the day, having slept in her dress.

“
How about the future
realm?” she asked, leaving the wardrobe conversation behind. “Do
you spend much time there?”

“
Not really. That realm
can be confusing. It changes all the time. But that’s how the
future is. Uncertain.”

“
I wish I knew where the
secret door to 105 was.”

“
Me, too. Then you could
come there with me.”

“
But it wouldn’t do any
good, would it? Not until the warrior appears and you’re out of
danger.”

I merely nodded. I wished that as a
child she hadn’t created the border monster scenario and put us at
risk of being attacked. It would have made more sense to have
created people who would never leave her, who weren’t in
danger.

But when it came to Abby’s disease,
logic didn’t apply. Her hallucinations weren’t like daydreams,
where she consciously decided how they should play out. They were
more like regular dreams, with unexpected outcomes and nightmares
tossed into the mix. Even I couldn’t predict where her mind might
go. And once her delusions were in place, there was no taking them
back. The peril of losing each other was devastatingly
real.

“
Are you getting sleepy?”
I asked.

She nodded. “A little.”

“
Do you want me to hold
you until you fall asleep?”

She widened her eyes. “Will
you?”

“
Yes.” I knew I shouldn’t,
but the thought of losing her made me want to tug her into the
shelter of my arms.

She inched closer, and I reached for
her. When she put her head against my chest, I thought I might die.
Her messy blonde hair tickled one of my flat brown
nipples.

I’d done some edgy things in my time,
but this felt like the wildest moment of my life.

Full-blown torture.

If she attached screws to my thumbs or
stretched me out on rack or burned me at the stake, I wouldn’t have
known the difference. Her nearness grazed my heart.

A bewitching. A painful
enchantment.

“
We should sleep like this
every night,” she said.

No, we shouldn’t. Not unless I was
going to peel that virgin-white dress off her delicate little body
and make balls-deep love to her.

I squeezed my eyes shut. What I needed
was to get stumbling-ass drunk and erase her from my mind. Or maybe
I needed to start fucking other women again.

Be a rebel. Be a rocker. Get
raunchy.

But here I was instead, being a
pussy.

Unable to help myself, I put my arms
tighter around her. Possession was nine-tenths of the
law.

And at least for tonight, Abby
belonged to me.

Chapter Eight

The following day, I arose in a surly
mood. I got out of bed and sat in the chair beside the window,
watching Abby sleep. How could I keep doing this? I should just go
back to Room 105 for good. Because, really, who gave a shit if I
got stranded there? Or if I got attacked by monsters?

Abby gave a shit, I reminded myself,
and that was primarily the problem.

A few minutes later, she woke up, all
rumpled and pretty, and smiled at me. “Hi, Seven.”

“
Hi.” My voice was
deliberately devoid of emotion, the tone painfully dry. I wanted to
scoop her onto my lap and kiss her forever.

“
What’s wrong?” she
asked.

Fucking everything, I thought.
“Nothing. I just think that you should go about your day without
me.”

“
But I want you to be
there. I need you.”

“
That’s crap, Abby. You’re
supposed to be learning to manage your disease, not be relying on
me for false support. You need to take the initiative on your
own.”

“
It isn’t false.” She
clutched her pillow to her chest. “And I don’t have a disease. You
know as well as I do that I’m not crazy.”

I should have told her the truth. That
she was ill, and I didn’t exist. But I shoved those words to the
back of my throat and swallowed them.

The very best I could do was, “Just
hurry the fuck up or you’ll miss breakfast.”

She looked like she might cry. I
prayed that she didn’t. I couldn’t handle her tears.

She climbed out of bed, and much to
her credit she held it together, keeping the waterworks at bay. But
that didn’t ease the devastation that penetrated her eyes. I could
tell that I’d just broken her heart.