done it for her, to show her what he could do. And
she hadn’t been there to witness it.
Show-offs never prospered. In this instance, in any case. “No,
I can’t, not this time. Cyn. Do you run away all the time?” Did she fear
intimacy, was that it?
“What?” She frowned, her eyes flashing danger at him.
He ignored the warning. “Here, now. The truth, Cyn. Do you?
Why did you do it tonight?”
“My business. One fuck doesn’t make you entitled, Riku.”
“Sure it does. If it didn’t, our lovemaking eight years ago
does. You walked away tonight.” He paused and then decided he’d tell her. “I
played for you.”
She gestured at the screen. “I saw the report on the news.
Not that I was watching for it of course. I wanted to see the movie and I got
you. They said you performed brilliantly.”
“I did.” He knew when he played well. “So did the others.”
He also remembered when to shut his mouth. If he gave her enough rope she might
finally tell him why she left him eight and a half years ago. They’d start with
tonight and he’d keep her on topic even if it killed him.
“Then you didn’t play for me. You did it for you.”
Ah, fuck, yes, she’d know that. A musician herself, she’d
understand the rush, the glory of hitting a high note and sustaining it,
keeping the level of performance so elevated it could give a hit better than
any drug. “You know it. But I felt you out there.”
“Then we’re not as linked as you might have imagined.” She
crossed the room, picked up a teakettle. “Do you want a hot drink?”
“No.” He’d drunk enough water to sink the Titanic . He
always did onstage, otherwise he’d be the one getting the migraine. The
costumes, the makeup and the intensity often did that to him. “Put it down and
talk to me. You’re running away again, aren’t you?”
She replaced it carefully, making only a slight noise when
it struck the hotplate. “No.” She turned, facing him straight-on. No more
distractions. Only the counter stood between them but he didn’t try to breach
it. Enough that she’d stopped picking things up and putting them down again. “Tonight
I felt like an extra wheel. Unwanted and unneeded.”
Shock sliced through him, scattering the intensity of his
anger. “What are you talking about? Who treated you that way?”
“Everybody. They closed ranks. They were all perfectly nice.”
She exaggerated her English accent, so it came out ‘naice’. He’d heard Brits do
that when jerking someone around. Just the tiny emphasis would do it.
He hated it, hated the superciliousness. Didn’t like it in
her either and it struck a false note now. He let her speak, didn’t try to
interrupt her, although it killed him to keep his trap shut. Now he’d forced
open the floodgates he had so much to say.
“I didn’t belong there. I saw no other strangers. You
obviously keep the last hours before a gig very tight and I shouldn’t have been
there. You shouldn’t have brought us.”
Now he’d speak. “I’ve never done it before. Not in those
circumstances, but you’re different.”
“Someone told me you liked your women in pairs.” There, she
dodged his implication that she was special.
“Who?” he rapped out. “Tell me who.”
“No. They didn’t know they were saying anything wrong.”
“More than one person?” Oh, shit, oh, fuck. Yes, he
preferred his women in pairs but not for the reason she was thinking. Well, he
admitted to himself. Not entirely because of that. Yes, two was fun but
not essential. He could make do with one, especially when it was Cyn.
“No, not more than one. I didn’t want to reveal the sex of
the person who said it. It’s not important. They took it as normal.”
“You don’t like the idea?”
She glanced down then back at him, her eyes hard. “No. Not
when it’s you.”
Honesty. At last, raw and unapologetic. Thank fuck. “Would
you mind if it were anyone else having two women? Another member of the
she hadn’t been there to witness it.
Show-offs never prospered. In this instance, in any case. “No,
I can’t, not this time. Cyn. Do you run away all the time?” Did she fear
intimacy, was that it?
“What?” She frowned, her eyes flashing danger at him.
He ignored the warning. “Here, now. The truth, Cyn. Do you?
Why did you do it tonight?”
“My business. One fuck doesn’t make you entitled, Riku.”
“Sure it does. If it didn’t, our lovemaking eight years ago
does. You walked away tonight.” He paused and then decided he’d tell her. “I
played for you.”
She gestured at the screen. “I saw the report on the news.
Not that I was watching for it of course. I wanted to see the movie and I got
you. They said you performed brilliantly.”
“I did.” He knew when he played well. “So did the others.”
He also remembered when to shut his mouth. If he gave her enough rope she might
finally tell him why she left him eight and a half years ago. They’d start with
tonight and he’d keep her on topic even if it killed him.
“Then you didn’t play for me. You did it for you.”
Ah, fuck, yes, she’d know that. A musician herself, she’d
understand the rush, the glory of hitting a high note and sustaining it,
keeping the level of performance so elevated it could give a hit better than
any drug. “You know it. But I felt you out there.”
“Then we’re not as linked as you might have imagined.” She
crossed the room, picked up a teakettle. “Do you want a hot drink?”
“No.” He’d drunk enough water to sink the Titanic . He
always did onstage, otherwise he’d be the one getting the migraine. The
costumes, the makeup and the intensity often did that to him. “Put it down and
talk to me. You’re running away again, aren’t you?”
She replaced it carefully, making only a slight noise when
it struck the hotplate. “No.” She turned, facing him straight-on. No more
distractions. Only the counter stood between them but he didn’t try to breach
it. Enough that she’d stopped picking things up and putting them down again. “Tonight
I felt like an extra wheel. Unwanted and unneeded.”
Shock sliced through him, scattering the intensity of his
anger. “What are you talking about? Who treated you that way?”
“Everybody. They closed ranks. They were all perfectly nice.”
She exaggerated her English accent, so it came out ‘naice’. He’d heard Brits do
that when jerking someone around. Just the tiny emphasis would do it.
He hated it, hated the superciliousness. Didn’t like it in
her either and it struck a false note now. He let her speak, didn’t try to
interrupt her, although it killed him to keep his trap shut. Now he’d forced
open the floodgates he had so much to say.
“I didn’t belong there. I saw no other strangers. You
obviously keep the last hours before a gig very tight and I shouldn’t have been
there. You shouldn’t have brought us.”
Now he’d speak. “I’ve never done it before. Not in those
circumstances, but you’re different.”
“Someone told me you liked your women in pairs.” There, she
dodged his implication that she was special.
“Who?” he rapped out. “Tell me who.”
“No. They didn’t know they were saying anything wrong.”
“More than one person?” Oh, shit, oh, fuck. Yes, he
preferred his women in pairs but not for the reason she was thinking. Well, he
admitted to himself. Not entirely because of that. Yes, two was fun but
not essential. He could make do with one, especially when it was Cyn.
“No, not more than one. I didn’t want to reveal the sex of
the person who said it. It’s not important. They took it as normal.”
“You don’t like the idea?”
She glanced down then back at him, her eyes hard. “No. Not
when it’s you.”
Honesty. At last, raw and unapologetic. Thank fuck. “Would
you mind if it were anyone else having two women? Another member of the
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