No matter how hard I tried to forget Ian Kemp once he left me, I knew no matter how much time passed, or how our relationship ended, I would never forget how I felt watching him play that piano.
Thunder sounded in the distance and rain began to hit the roof of the house and trail down the windowpane next to me while the rest of the afternoon sun faded under the cover of the clouds. With the room dimmed, I smiled at the sight of lit candles. Ian had created his own bubble.
Inwardly sighing, I sat back on the arm of my sofa and admired my view. He grimaced, once or twice and then sank into the music, his posture relaxing slightly while his chest flexed under the white T-shirt that covered him. When the last note was played, he sat back, rubbing his hands on his thighs before he looked up and spotted me. I was sure I looked insane gawking at him, but he just grinned.
“Hi. I know that was horrible.”
I shook my head. “Hi, back. That was beautiful. I know that song.”
“I played it in my last recital, it’s “Clair de Lune” by Debussy.”
“Accomplished pianist too, huh? Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Lots of things,” he said, standing before he glanced at the large wall clock past my shoulder. “You’re home early.”
“Slow day. The boss told me to take the rest of it off. How long did you play?”
“Just through grade school.”
“That was grade school level?”
“I was a bit advanced.”
I harrumphed. “You think?”
He ignored my compliment as he stalked toward me, his eyes darkening.
“So lucky me,” he said moving to stand in front of me before he took a squirming Disco from my arms to grant her freedom. “You’re home early and it’s raining,” he murmured leaning in, “what shall we do?”
I swallowed. “I was thinking we could start our book club?”
“Sure,” he said with a smirk, pulling my purse off my shoulder and tossing it on the couch behind me. “After.”
“After?”
“After,” he whispered, crushing me to his chest before capturing my mouth.
Hours later, I lingered next to a hot running shower, my whole body vibrating as I stood in a daze, my hair a sex afro. My abdomen was screaming, and I winced at the pinch I still felt from his size. The man fucked like Tarzan.
“Hey,” he said in a raspy voice behind me. I turned to see him darken my doorway and took a step back. “I, uh… I can’t do it again, sorry.” I jumped into the shower and ducked under the stream as the door open and he joined me. He chuckled as he turned me to face him. “What’s with the brush-off?”
The banging began below, and I knew I was in a world of shit. I winced as I ducked for the shampoo.
“You’re hurt?”
“I’m sore.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, tilting my chin. “I’m a little rough.”
“A little,” I said with wide eyes.
“Shit, I really hurt you?”
“No, I mean I’m hurting, but it doesn’t really have to do with the sex. I mean it does but…”
“Koti, spit it out,” he said impatiently. “I’m feeling like an asshole here.”
“I have a condition that can make sex painful at times, well after sex.” I glanced at the tile floor. “Sometimes during.”
“You were hurting during?” he asked confused. “Those screams?”
“Were orgasms,” I assured. “Ian, you’re fine. It’s called endometriosis. That’s why I was on the hammock that day crying. It’s awful to endure and a shitty subject, so let’s not talk about it.”
He let out a breath and gripped my shoulders. “Be honest, did any part of that hurt during?”
“No, I swear. I like you but not enough to hurt myself.”
“Okay, so what do we do?”
I laughed. “What do you mean, what do we do? We do nothing. I just have to deal with it.”
I lathered up his hair while he studied me and gave him a faux hawk. “Sexy.”
“Yeah?” He poked his head out of the shower and looked in the mirror. “I like this look on me.”
“Me too,” I murmured pressing a kiss to his throat.
He looked down at me with a grin, as suds slipped down his temple.
I was so in love with him.
He gathered me to him and slid his hands down to where I ached. I leaned back into his frame as his cock hardened. “I’m sorry. I’ll take it easier on you.”
“Don’t you dare,” I said fisting his thickness between us. “Don’t. Please don’t do that. I can honestly say this is the only time the pain has been worth it.” Every single tooth he had was displayed with his answering crocky smile.
“Don’t smile at me like that.”
“So, what you’re saying is I’m the best lover you’ve ever had.”
Hell yes.
“I never said that, but thanks for blasting me, pal.”
“Blasting you?”
“It’s an inside joke.”
“Ah,” he said, lathering up. “Will I ever be privy to this information?”
“Doubtful,” I said, rubbing the soap over his chest and down his forearms. He clasped our hands and kissed the back of mine. “I’m starving. Hungry?”
“Sure.” The ache in my belly began to roar as I pressed my lips to his before I stepped out of the shower. Once dry, I frantically searched my cabinets. “Shit.”
“What?” he asked, toweling off. I took a second to admire him. “You look great, Ian. Not that you didn’t look good before, but, you really look so… great.”
His eyes softened. “Can’t find anything for the pain?”
“You’re shit at taking compliments, you know that?”
“I’ll run to the chemist and fetch something.”
“No, you don’t have to do that.”
“Then you can just suffer,” he said rolling his eyes.
Half an hour later, I was curled up in bed with my heating pad when Ian strolled in with two bags. “Did you stock up on Advil until the apocalypse?”
“I’ve got it all.” He emptied the bag onto my bed. “Lift your shirt and lower your broeks.”
“Broeks?”
“Panties.”
I smiled. “Sexy.”
He cut a hand through the air. “Just do it.”
I did as I was told, and he stuck a patch above my pelvic bone, opened a box and gave me four pills and a bottled water to take them with. “That heating patch should do you good, the pharmacist said we can change it every four hours. You can take four of these pills in one go if you need to.”
Stunned by his kindness, I nodded toward the other bag. “What’s in there?”
“Chinese food—and a shit load of it—ice cream, and two movies. Come on, we have to go to my house since you’ve decided to live past century.” He held his hand out to me and I winced as I stood. He pressed a kiss to my temple. “I’m sorry.”
“Damnit, Ian, don’t. Okay? This isn’t going to change, and I don’t want it to interfere with our…” I nodded in embarrassment, “you know.”
“Quality time?”
“Exactly,” I said giving him a forced grin. I prayed for the pills to kick in as we walked to his house. He pulled me as close as I could be as we devoured the food and watched our favorite movies from when we were kids, Raiders of the Lost Ark—his—followed by mine, Jaws.
“Remember when we watched these?” he asked as he loaded Jaws into the DVD player.
“Of course.”
“You were so young, I didn’t know if you remembered a lot of that summer.”
“I remember all of that summer.”
He gave me warm eyes. “Me too.”
“You were a hot-headed ass.”
“You were a total crybaby brat,” he smarted back before he pulled me into his lap. Sometime later, I woke up cradled to his chest. He was staring at my lips in the dim light of the house, the movie flickering over his features. His eyes fluttered closed and he turned his attention back to the screen. I pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple and drifted back to sleep.