FascinatingRhythm (3 page)

They ate, chatted about inconsequential matters, both of
them avoiding topics that might mean more to them. He told her about America, a
place she’d always meant to visit, and she told him about Iceland, with its
economic problems and its sheer beauty. They talked about London, somewhere
they’d both visited but not together. And Malmö, where the band was due to play
in a couple of days’ time. He told her about Murder City Ravens, the band that,
it soon became obvious, meant more to him than anything else in life. She
realized he did more than play the drums. He was playing with percussion,
experimenting with different sounds, different instruments, and using
electronics to vary it.

The waiter came to remove their plates and asked if they
wanted dessert. Hunter touched her hand so she turned her attention to him.
“I’d like to have dessert and coffee upstairs where we can talk, but it’s all
right if you want to stay down here.”

She swallowed. He’d never open up to her in a public place.
She doubted he’d do it upstairs, but at least she’d have a better chance. There
existed another possibility. He might want to take her to bed and she sure as
shit wanted to relive that one, incandescent experience. But he’d leave her
again.

She might not break as badly this time if she braced herself
for it, kept herself apart. If she persuaded him to maintain their friendship.
She’d trained herself into stoicism. “Yes,” she said. If he asked, she might.
She’d decide at the time. He might not ask. She’d caught glances and smiles,
but she didn’t know this man well enough anymore to tell if he wanted her or if
he was just being friendly. Frustration made her want to growl.

They gave their order and left the restaurant. As they
crossed the foyer toward the elevators, he reached for her hand and threaded
his fingers between hers. Warmth and a feeling of utter safety filled her
instantly, something she shouldn’t experience, not here, not now. Not with this
man. Time must have passed because the light outside was noticeably softer, on
its way toward sunset. She glanced at the clock. They’d taken nearly two hours
over their meal. She didn’t remember that kind of time passing. On the way up
to his room, she made a confession. “I enjoy talking with you. I mean verbally.
I haven’t done it for a while.”

“You should do it more often.”

She flushed, picking up the innuendo even if he didn’t mean
it.

He laughed. “You know what I mean.”

“Yes.” Still attuned to each other, as they had been before.
They’d reconnected during that meal, and whatever else came of this evening,
she knew she’d rediscovered a friendship that had meant so much to her before
it had all gone wrong.

If nothing else came of tonight, she’d have that. She might
get her friend back.

He opened the door to a large room and watched her walk past
him.

She walked around slowly, avoiding his gaze, wanting to let
the room sink into her consciousness. In a large alcove at one end stood a big
four-poster bed, the struts black and the drapes only token light gauze, a long
scarf draped over the bare struts. A blue comforter covered crisp, white
sheets, visible because the maid had already been in to turn down the covers.

Turning around, she spread her arms wide. “I like it.”

“Good.” He stood next to a cart holding a selection of
desserts and a tall pot whose contents filled the air with the aroma of freshly
brewed coffee. Her mouth watered when she saw the chocolate cream, and then
another thought occurred to her. Startled, she looked up, straight into his
eyes.

They burned for her. That chill in the blue had utterly
disappeared, replaced by fire. Quickly he turned away, but it was too late.
She’d seen it. “Have you felt like that all night?” She wouldn’t take any
prevarication. She wanted an answer. She looked back at him.

“Yes.” Carefully, he picked up the pot and poured two cups
of coffee. “Cream?” Although he didn’t look at her he made sure she could see
his mouth move.

She waited until he looked up and then she signed. “That
depends.”

He put down the pot. “On what?”

“What exactly you’re offering.” She refused to go to him,
not this time. He’d have to make clear exactly what he wanted.

He stared at her for a full minute, or it felt at least that
long. She didn’t go to the trouble of checking her watch, but it lasted a long
time. It didn’t matter. Internal and external time stretched apart until the
tension threatened to snap.

Then he moved, crossed the room to stand in front of her.
She tilted her head to gaze at him. Still fire. “Whatever you want,” he said.

Watching him, never taking her attention away from those
hot, impatient eyes, she put her hands on his waist and went on tiptoe to kiss
him. In heels she could meet him on a more equal basis, but she’d come here in
her work clothes, elegant but severely practical, including a pair of slides
with next to no heel.

He met her kiss, returned it, but didn’t open his mouth
until he said something. She had no way of knowing what. Drawing back, he said,
“I want you, Sabina. I always have and I’ve been burning for you since the
first time I laid eyes on you today. Do you remember the first time we met?”

She’d never forget. “You stood in the hall.”

“Standing where you were today. Did you do that on purpose
when you saw the car coming?”

As if she would. “I was looking at the guest book.”

“I never signed in. It used to annoy my mother.”

“That was why you did it, wasn’t it?”

His cheekbones gained a dull flush. “It was. Sometimes I
behaved badly to get her attention. She said it was for emergencies like fire.
I still didn’t sign in though.”

He cut off his speech quickly, an indication he’d intended
to say something else and then decided against it. She didn’t need him to say
it this time. “Because you wanted attention?”

He grinned, but that telltale flush remained. “Bratty. I had
to grow up some, didn’t I?”

She lifted her hand and pressed it against his chest,
savoring his heat and strength. “Maybe I did too.” Maybe she had.

She’d gone to him that night because she wanted him so much
and she couldn’t wait anymore. He’d accepted her, taken her to bed, but she’d
never told him how much that night meant to her As far as he was concerned,
they were going to bed as friends and they parted as friends. For her, that
night had changed everything. But she’d never told him. Now she could cope with
friendship much better. Fucking a hot man sounded like fun, as it should have
been the first time.

“And here we are, all grown up,” he said.

She could feel his words rumbling through his chest, the
vibrations in time with his lip movements. “I don’t know if I’ll ever grow up.”

“You’re adult enough for this.” He leaned down to kiss her,
his arms banding around her to hold her close. Her hand remained trapped
between their bodies and she could do nothing but keep it there while he
captured her lips. He touched his tongue to hers, traced the line between top
and bottom lip until it tingled, like using lip-plumping lipstick, and she
opened for him.

There the analogy with lipstick came to an incongruous halt.
He plunged in as if ravenous for her, as hungry as she was for him.

Ice froze her spine. What the fuck was she doing? Hadn’t she
learned anything?

She pushed him away and, taken by surprise, he staggered
back, stopping just before he hit the cart. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted
this.”

Oh, how she wanted him! But she couldn’t. Tears threatened
to fall, filling her lower lids, and a lump settled at the top of her throat.
“Will you promise not to disappear this time?”

He frowned. “What?”

“Last time, you remember? You didn’t write, didn’t call.
Nothing. And I didn’t know where you were, so I couldn’t write to you.”

His chest rose and fell on a sigh. “I’m sorry. I know we-we
connected the night before I left. But I couldn’t make any promises, so I
thought it best to make a clean break.”

That was it? She’d half wondered if he’d ask her to go away
with him, share his adventure. But of course he hadn’t. She’d just graduated
and started her job with Emmelie.

A hunted look entered his eyes, brightened the blue as his
pupils, previously darkened with desire, regained their normal hue. “I planned
to come back to see you, but Emmelie told me you’d gone home.”

Not good enough. “You had my family’s address in Iceland.”

He swallowed. “I did. I still thought it right to give us
both a break.” Spreading his hands in a gesture of surrender, he opened himself
to her. “I missed you at first. Then my life changed. I thought yours had too.”

Did he think she wouldn’t welcome him? Her lips tightened.
He was probably right. She’d resented his abandonment until she’d seen him
today. No, that was wrong. She
still
resented it. “You should have
written.”

“I know that now. I’m sorry.”

It didn’t stop her wanting him, and he’d proved before that
fucking didn’t have to mean commitment. Perhaps this time she’d be the one to
turn her back.

She took the initiative and walked forward until her breasts
grazed his chest. “Do you still want me?”

He sucked in a breath. “Fuck, yes.”

Why deprive herself of the hottest man she’d seen in months?
So what if it was Hunter?

When he held her this time she knew they wouldn’t stop. He
tilted his head to seal them together more securely, his kiss unrestrained. He
explored her mouth, took his time, but she did the same, felt the incredible
softness of his inner lips and the smooth texture of his teeth. His tongue
stroked hers in the most intimate of caresses, then he sucked gently, inviting
her to explore. Ravenous, she tasted him, touched him, wanting more, wanting it
now
.

He broke the kiss, but only so he could lead her to the bed.
It hadn’t looked that big when they came in. Or was it her nervousness coming
to the fore? Yes, that was it. “It’s been a while,” she whispered, hoping she
hadn’t spoken too loudly. Sometimes she found it hard to tell.

She looked back at his face. “Me too. At least a month.”

He startled her into laughter, but at the back of her mind
she also remembered what he was these days. Sex on tap, no doubt, for the sexy
drummer in one of the world’s hottest bands.

For all she knew she was another girl in another port. Of
course she was, he’d be moving on soon. So she’d better make the most of him,
hadn’t she? She tugged at his T-shirt and he finished the job for her,
impatiently pulling it off over his head before tackling her clothes. A zipper
down the back and her dress peeled away like a bud casing, falling down her
arms. She dropped her hands so she could finish the job and the dress fell to
the floor.

Eager to feel her skin against his, she moved closer. As he
put his arms around her, he popped her bra undone. The straps fell loose, but
she lifted her head for another kiss, craving it like an addict.

From the way he took her lips, he felt the same.

All the time he kissed her like an angel—or a devil. When
his lips left hers, he kissed down her throat, stopping to suck the hollow
between her collarbones while he helped her off with her bra. Then he stopped
moving.

She glanced down, wondering what was wrong. Were her breasts
the wrong size or something?

He was staring down. “Damn. I’d forgotten.”

“What?”

“How pretty they are.”

She laughed. “How can breasts be pretty? I thought they were
soft or something.”

“Pretty,” he said firmly, cupping one. His big hand
enveloped her left breast, encasing it in warmth. He massaged it before drawing
his fingers gently along the slopes to the tip, and then again before he
lingered to caress. “I love the way they move.”

“Don’t they all move like that?”

“Depends how good the surgery was.”

She jerked back, crossing her arms over her chest. “I
haven’t had plastic surgery ever. Not ever. But what if I had?”

He held his hands up in apology. “I didn’t mean to upset
you. There’s nothing wrong with plastic surgery, it’s just that they feel
different.” He growled. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He flicked a switch and the bedside
lights came on, although she could see his lips fine this close.

She’d overreacted. “I’m on edge.” She dropped her arms and
stepped toward him and he folded her into his embrace.

“Fucking insensitive of me,” he said when she lifted her
chin. “It sounds stupid, but I’m kind of nervous.”

“Not stupid. I am too.” She stroked her hands down his back
as if soothing a fidgety cat. The act calmed her in a strange way until he
lowered his head and kissed her again.

Then it all came back, her arousal, surging up inside her,
loosening her body, readying her for his invasion.

He eased her back and when she felt the mattress against her
thighs, she realized what he wanted and let herself go as he lowered her gently
to the bed.

She watched him divest himself of the rest of his clothing,
revealing powerful thighs, no doubt honed from years of thumping the bass drum
and a taut stomach, ridged with muscle. He shed the last of his garments, his
underwear. “You used to wear tight black briefs,” she said.

He glanced at her. “Shorts are cooler. I don’t stick to one
style. Call me fickle.”

She lost the smile and he came down to lean over her,
propping his arms on either side of her body. “Hey, it’s okay. I was making a
joke. Is there something wrong? Do you want to stop?”

Vigorously, she shook her head. “No, never. It’s just been a
while for me too.”

“How long?”

“About a year.”

He gave a low whistle. She had no way of knowing if he made
a sound, but she saw the way he pursed his lips and felt the air against her
cheek. “You had better things to do?”

She didn’t want to answer. “You could say that.” She’d tell
him about her forthcoming change if she felt like it. But he was moving on. No
reason for him to know unless he stayed in touch. And she wasn’t counting on
anything this time. “You look good.”

“You look beautiful. You might have pretty breasts, but
altogether you make a beautiful package.”

He cupped her cheek, stroking the fine skin there, making
her want to purr like a cat and rub herself against him. “You’re different,
Sabina, you always have been.”

She had no desire to laugh now. His gaze held no flattery,
his lips no light banter. For a brief moment out of time they met and exchanged
complete honesty. “You too.” Because she understood. Understood so much that it
had taken her much longer to get over him than she’d ever imagined it would.

Pushing away from her, he said, “I need to get some
protection. Get into bed and I’ll be back in a minute.”

So practical. One of the things she hated about being deaf
was not hearing the gradations of tone. She didn’t know if he was murmuring or
speaking normally. She could tell a whisper from a yell from the way the chest
and neck moved, as well as the usual facial expressions that went with yelling.
Usually she didn’t regret, because she couldn’t see the point in it, but
sometimes a pang hit her. She wanted to hear his voice; she wanted to know what
he sounded like.

He returned, walking across the room, his erect cock
bouncing with each stride. She watched, fascinated, and he didn’t take his gaze
from her but stood over her and tossed a few packets on to the bedside table. A
few?

“Fuck, how many did you get?”

“A handful. Let’s see how far we can take it, hmm?”

Swallowing, she nodded, trying to look as if she did this
every day. Except she’d just told him that she didn’t. “I’m not very good at
this, am I?”

“I’d say you were excellent.” He dropped a kiss on her neck.
“Top of the class.” He took a nipple into his mouth and delivered a hard suck,
then lifted his head so she could see what he was saying. “A1.”

Laughing, she curled her arms around his neck to draw him
closer. “You too. That feels good. Do it again.”

“With the greatest pleasure in the world.” He followed suit,
lavishing attention on her other nipple while playing with the one he’d just
sucked. He rolled it between finger and thumb, sending shots of sensation over
her body. Tingles traveled along her shoulders and arms, sensitizing her to a
new level before he kissed underneath. He licked under her breast and then
moved down, touching his tongue to her navel and going farther. He said
something against her belly and then lifted his head. “You taste great and you
feel even better. Your skin is amazing, do you know that?”

She shook her head. “Thank you. You’re pretty good
yourself.”

“I want you lying down properly, with your legs wide open. I
want to know how you taste.”

Shivers coursed along her spine and she deliciously
anticipated what they’d do next. She climbed onto the bed and lay down. He
stripped her panties down her legs and away, then stopped, staring down at her.
“You’re shaved,” he said.

“Waxed. It’s smoother.”

“It’s beautiful.” He laughed. He came onto the bed, knelt
between her legs. “If you haven’t been with anyone, why…?”

She laughed at his naïveté. “Because it’s black, and it
shows when I wear light clothing. And because I like it, how it feels.”

“Sweet.” He bent and licked her, groaned.

Crying out, she grabbed his shoulders. She hadn’t expected
him to act with such sudden decision or such enthusiasm. He didn’t taste her,
he ate at her. He sucked her clit before licking every drop from her, an act
that made her give him more, and in abundance, her arousal rising to almost
unbearable proportions. She lifted her knees and clamped them on either side of
his head before she realized he couldn’t move as well that way and forced
herself to relax.

His head moved but he didn’t look at her face, keeping his
attention fully on her pussy. She moaned his name, then caught her breath. She
couldn’t control her tone or pitch right now, so she preferred not to speak and
possibly break the mood.