BorntobeWild (8 page)

He slid his arm around her waist. “Like it?”

“I’m not sure,” she said frankly.

“You look great here. I like you this way.” He plucked at
her full, cotton skirt in an imitation tie-dye. Vivid purple, so unlike the
severe black of her dress this morning.

“I like it better myself. It’s comfortable.”

He kissed her neck. “It makes you more accessible.” He
cupped one of her breasts, confined by a light bra. She preferred not having
her boobs stared at in the subway so she gave that much concession to
convention. She had on the matching top to the skirt but added a thick, blue
knitted jacket that flowed in soft folds to mid-calf. Warm too. She’d dumped
her weekend bag inside the door. Unsure what to bring she’d packed knickers, jeans,
a couple of T-shirts and the black dress, in case she needed to gussy up. “Will
you wear this tonight?”

“I thought I’d wear jeans. It’s concert uniform, isn’t it?”

“Wear this for me. I might be able to see you in the crowd.
Though I admit it’s a long shot. Difficult to see anything from the stage.
Sometimes Zazz tells them to turn up the house lights and they love it. I might
ask tonight. I know where you’ll be sitting. That’ll help.”

“You got me tickets?”

“The band always gets complimentary tickets. If we don’t use
them Chick lets the media sit there. So you could find yourself next to some
unsavory characters.” He kissed up her neck. “It’s forever since I saw you
last.”

“Sweet-talking bastard.”

He laughed, oscillation tickling her throat. “You always
used to say that.”

“I know.” She suppressed her shiver. Why make it easier for
him? Already her mood was lifting and she was looking forward to the gig. She’d
always wanted to see the band, had never gotten up the courage to go until now
because she didn’t know how she’d react to Riku. In any case, this was the
lineup she longed to experience most. The previous version of Murder City
Ravens had been a great rock band. Now this lineup was breaking new musical
ground. Exciting and different. Cyn adored exciting and different.

Maybe that was why she’d imagined herself in love with Riku
nine years ago.

Of course she couldn’t have been. That would be stupid. Even
though they planned to go to Europe together and study in places not too far
from each other. Their trajectories would have gone in different directions, he
as a concert pianist, she as a dramatic soprano. As it was they had moved so
far apart now that only friendship remained for them.

Keep telling yourself that, Cyn.

“I love that you’re not a conventional dresser. Even the
dress you wore this morning had an edge. Sharp shoulder pads, that little split
up the back.”

“Without the slit I can’t walk. And it’s not indecent, just
to mid-thigh.”

He growled, moved to her ear and licked the rim. This time
she couldn’t suppress her shudder. “Oh yes, that’s the way. But we can’t get
naked yet. They’re delivering my costume any minute. I’ll go straight to the
Garden from here. We’ll eat here, if you want.”

“You cook?” He hesitated, so she added, “Don’t lie to me.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare. My caretaker service packed
the freezer and refrigerator for me. Want the tour?”

“I want this first.” She turned around, hooked an arm behind
his head and brought him down for a kiss. When he opened his mouth she followed
suit and they spent some times lost in each other, the world a distant memory.

After some minutes he lifted away and smiled into her eyes. “The
trouble is whenever I have you close I want you naked.”

She glanced around at the windows. They seemed so open here.
“I take it this is privacy glass?”

“For sure.” He swung her around. “Come on. Let me show you
the place.”

He’d furnished the great room sparsely but with comfort in
mind. He didn’t have much wall space for works of art but the lamps were
twisted columns of bright chrome with circular, white glass shades that must
look like moons when lit. Matching lamps adorned the low tables. He had rugs on
the floor at intervals, mostly in front of the large, squashy sofas. Leather,
of course, very man-friendly.

“Did you buy the place ready furnished?” Cyn asked.

“They offered but I got rid of it. It was so show-home, you
wouldn’t believe it.”

They passed a bookcase crammed with dog-eared books, all
shapes and sizes. “Okay, I can see you’ve left your mark.”

“I should think so. It’s my home. I get here whenever I can.”

She laughed as she caught sight of a music room through an
open door. Small but state-of-the-art if she was any judge. Not that she’d set
foot inside one for some time. “Ever thought of a solo project?”

He stopped dead. “How did you know?”

She blinked, stared up at features gone grave. “That’s a
studio. And you’re so inventive, one band can’t hold you.”

He nodded. “You can’t tell anyone yet but I’ve taken a job
to write the music for a new film. A big film. They’ve not accepted my proposal
yet but Chick says they will.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I had an idea, told Chick and he made it happen. It’s
amazing. They actually want me.”

“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.