Still Life with Strings (33 page)

He smiles against my
lips. “I think I can manage that.”

Slowly, he lowers me
down to his bed, the fresh, clean smell of his sheets hitting my nose. He runs
his hands along my abdomen, inching my blouse up little by little, kissing my
belly playfully. When he finally removes my top, his eyes zone in on the new
sparrow on my arm, his fingers brushing over it tenderly.

“When did you get
this?” he breathes.

“Today. Happy
anniversary to me,” I answer in a singsong voice.

“So pretty,” he purrs,
kissing each sparrow before continuing his way over my chest to my collarbone.
I let out little mewling noises of pleasure as his hand drifts between my legs
and cups me. Then he does one long stroke, pressing hard over my clit and
sinking past the fabric of my underwear. When three of his fingers slide inside
of me all at once, filling me up, I realise how wet I am.

“You’re so ready for
me,” Shane says huskily, arousal dripping from his words.

“Oh, God,” I moan as he
pumps me good and hard.

He rids himself of his
clothes in short order, and then he’s sliding his cock over my entrance,
teasing me before thrusting all the way in. The entire time his eyes never
leave mine. I bring my hands up to his face, marvelling at how his hot gaze
peruses me so possessively.

Suddenly, I’m struck
with the thought that I could never handle losing him.

His hips move as his
desire builds.

“You’re so beautiful,”
he whispers, one hand drifting through my hair, which is spread out over his
pillow. It’s strange, because I was thinking the exact same thing about him. I
lose myself in a haze of sex and need, his hard body working itself into mine,
and when he comes, I come with him. He doesn’t pull out as his sweat-soaked
chest falls against mine and his breathing slows as he falls asleep.

The following week my belly is a bundle
of nerves. Not only am I going to be spending an entire weekend with Shane come
Friday, but this is also the week that Mona comes to play at the concert hall.
Shane and I have been with each other every chance we can get, stolen moments at
work and late night visits. I haven’t mentioned Shane’s pseudo declaration in
my room last week, and neither has he.

I’ve also managed to
avoid having him see the tattoo on my shoulders, which was some feat, given
that he has this way of ridding me of my clothes before I even realise it’s
happening.

Catching sight of his
driver’s licence one evening, I saw that his thirtieth birthday is this
weekend, so I make a note to do something special for him.

Right now I’m walking
down a corridor at work, returning to the bar after delivering a tray of drinks
to a group of businessmen having a meeting in one of the conference rooms. My
heart skips a beat when I see Shane walking toward me from the other direction.
He’s looking casual in jeans and a dark grey T-shirt. We stop a foot apart, not
saying anything but drinking each other in with our eyes.

“Hey, what are you
doing here so early?” I ask while he brings his hands to my shoulders, then
lets them drift down my arms. At the same time he’s manoeuvring me back against
the wall and sucking in a harsh breath.

“I have a rehearsal to
get to, but you, babe, are a welcome distraction,” he purrs, and bends his
mouth to my neck.

“Shane,” I gasp, making
an effort to push him off but not trying nearly hard enough. “We can’t do this
here. My supervisor could come by.”

Both his hands move up
to my neck, his thumbs rubbing circles into the exposed skin at my throat. “Oh,
yeah,” he murmurs, his mouth curved in a wicked smirk. “Tell me more.”

“I could get the sack,”
I go on, my protest weak.

“No man would dare sack
a face this beautiful,” he disagrees, kissing both my cheeks and then moving in
for my mouth. He nibbles on my lips, and I feel myself tremble against the
wall.

“It’s a pity my
supervisor today is a woman, now, isn’t it?” I finally respond, and he chuckles
against my lips.

“I’ve missed your
smell,” he murmurs, one hand moulding my hip, pushing up the hem of my work
shirt.

“You saw me last
night.”

“I know,” he replies
with a sullen little expression before capturing my mouth in a deep, wet kiss.
My knees practically buckle out from under me when his tongue plunges inside,
caressing my tongue in long, languid strokes. I come alive, growing wet between
my legs as I clench my thighs together tight. His mouth is like heaven, and he’s
kissing me like he does when we’re having sex. There’s no manners to it, just
hot, fevered passion. I can feel my cheeks getting warm with a blush. Before I
met this man I think I probably blushed about three times in my entire life.
Now it’s become a constant look for me.

He draws back an inch
and stares at me, his face so close I can feel his breath on my skin. My
eyelids are at half-mast, and I’m clenching his shirt with my fist.

“Fuck, you’re all
heated up, and now I have to go,” he swears, his eyes consuming me.

My breaths come out
quick and heavy. “I told you we couldn’t do this here.”

“Yeah, well, I have a
hard time listening to logic when you’re around me.” He pauses and bends close
to my ear to whisper, “A real fucking
hard
time.”

Shivers dance along my
skin, and I can’t keep my eyes from quickly glancing at his crotch. Yeah, he
isn’t lying.

“You’d better get to
your rehearsal,” I tell him, my breathing slowing down a bit.

He lets out a little
petulant sigh. “I bet you’re soaking wet right now.”

“Shane,” I say, giving
him a small push. “You’ve got to go.”

“I know,” he sighs
again, and comes in for a kiss goodbye, this one not nearly as hot as the last,
and yet it still speeds up my pulse. With one final stroke of his hand down my
cheek, he turns on his heel and continues his way down the corridor.

I gather myself and get
back to work, wondering if his practice today is with Mona or if the entire
orchestra will be there. As I do a stock take, I try to quell the desire to
slip inside the auditorium and find out. After another five minutes of
stock-taking, my curiosity gets the better of me, and I go upstairs to the
balcony entrance. That way nobody below will notice me come in.

As quietly as I can
manage, I push open the door and walk down the aisle, taking a seat in the
first row. I look down to the main part of the auditorium to find that my
suspicions were right. It is just him and Mona today. The conductor, Henry
White, and two other men are sitting a few rows down from the stage. They’re
all chatting back and forth to each other while Mona sits at a piano and Shane
looks to be tuning his violin.

He seems to have it in
tune when he steps forward and calls down to the three men, “What would you
like to hear first?”

“Hungarian Dance No.
1,” Henry replies after corresponding with his neighbours.

Shane nods and walks
back to the piano, standing only a foot away. I can’t help hating seeing him so
close to a woman he was once in love with. It makes me ferociously jealous, and
I’ve never had a jealous bone in my body up until now.

I wonder how he
proposed to her.

It was probably
beautiful, and the bitch didn’t deserve a single second of it. God, these
thoughts really frighten me, and I can say without a doubt that this very
moment is the closest I’ll come to hitting the bottle again.

Mona seems to be trying
to make eye contact with Shane, but he won’t look at her. At least that’s
something. A moment later he starts to play; it’s a fast, passionate tune, full
of fire and fury. So appropriate for these two. Mona accompanies him on the
piano, her part like a trickling stream of water to his hot, angry inferno.
It’s almost like they’re fighting through music. Shane is accusatory, pained,
while she is supplicant, trying to win him back.

Is that what this is
about?

I know I wasn’t
imagining things last week when I’d met her and Justin for the first time. They
didn’t strike me as two people in love about to tie the knot and have a baby.
They struck as a couple who has come to the realisation that all they ever had
was lust and secret thrills. And that lust and those thrills have long grown
stale.

Shane walks across the
stage as he plays before turning back to the piano. He looks at Mona now, and
there’s so much emotion in his eyes that I’m not sure I can continue watching.
Does he still have feelings for her, or is it only hate he’s trying to
communicate?

The piece comes to a
dramatic, swift end and I’m glad those three awful minutes are over. I stand up
from my seat and am turning to leave when I stop in my tracks. Standing just
inside the door is Mirin, a look on her face like the cat that got the cream. I
keep walking. I have no idea what she’s doing there, watching me as I watched
Shane and Mona, but I have no desire to engage her in conversation.

Just as I’m passing her
by, she starts to speak. “They have so much chemistry on the stage, don’t you
think?”

I give her my most
nonchalant expression and shrug before muttering a reply, “I’m not sure that’s
what I’d call it.”

I shouldn’t have taken
the bait, but I couldn’t seem to help myself. What can I say, there’s something
about being around a woman who thinks I’m no better than the dirt on her
overpriced shoes that rubs me up the wrong way. My “rubbed up the wrong way”
metre is cranked right up to eleven.

“They’ll get back
together sooner or later,” she says, glancing down at her nails.

“Uh, I hate to break it
to you, but Mona’s engaged to Justin and pregnant with his kid.”

Mirin’s eyes gleam now,
like she’s been keeping the secret of the century. “She’s going to leave him.
She’s confided in me that she’s unhappy and the biggest mistake she ever made
was breaking up with my son. I found it in myself to forgive her and gave her
my blessing in her efforts to win him back.”

I give her an astounded
look. “You do know what she did to him?”

Mirin purses her lips.
“All water under the bridge. Mona is right for my son. She’s the most talented
pianist to come out of this country in years, and Shane’s star is shining
bright. They’re ideal for one another.”

Rolling my eyes, I
deadpan, “Oh, well, don’t I just feel so unworthy. Your work here is done,
Mommie Dearest.”

“Don’t you dare talk to
me like that, or make insinuations…”

I laugh. “That you’re
Joan Crawford? I hate to break it to you, Mirin, but you’re not nearly that
interesting.”

And with that I stride
right by her and out of the auditorium, feeling triumphant at the sound of
outrage she makes upon my departure. That right there was probably the finest
last word I’ve ever gotten. Unfortunately, my satisfaction doesn’t last very
long, as I hurry to the staff bathroom, lock myself in a cubicle, and take
several long, deep breaths.

Shit, I’m not sure I
can handle this anymore.

It’s one thing for Mona
to be trying to convince Shane to return to the Bohemia Quartet because her
dad’s making her do it. It’s another entirely for her to be here trying to win
him back. Perhaps Mirin was lying to make me feel insecure so I’d break things
off with Shane before they’ve even begun.

God, I hope she was
lying. I mean, I can understand why she doesn’t like me. I’m so far from her
idea of an approvable girlfriend for her son I might as well be sitting on Mars
roasting my bottom. What I don’t get is her continuing support of Mona, a woman
who has treated her son so horribly she could be in the running for a worst
fiancée of the year award.

I mean, the woman drove
him to suicide for God’s sake.

I guess these people
will overlook many, many flaws in favour of good breeding and a sophisticated
background. Mona is the lesser of two evils in Mirin’s eyes.

After a few minutes, I
finally gather my nerve to return to work. Thankfully, this evening’s event
won’t be featuring the symphony, so I can avoid Shane, his ex, and his
manipulative witch of a mother for the night.

When I arrive home
after my shift, I’m surprised to discover Alec and Avery in the living room
watching a movie together, the lights turned low. If my estimations are
correct, this must be their third or fourth date, and I’ve never known my
brother to see a woman more than twice. I smile to myself. Perhaps he’s turned
over a new leaf. I take in the sight of them sitting close on the couch before
quickly apologising for interrupting and ducking out of the room.

In the kitchen Specky’s
bent over her food bowl, eating a few doggie biscuits. I pet her head and sigh.
She makes a little rumbling noise and abandons her food to come and hop up on
my lap. I love dogs. They never have any shame about letting you know just how
much they’ve missed you.

“Oh, Specky, you should
have seen the drama I’ve dealt with today.”

She makes a sound
that’s too tame to be a bark, sort of like a questioning noise. Before I can
continue being pathetic and telling my problems to my dog, my phone buzzes
loudly from where I set it on the table. I pick it up to find a message from
Shane.