True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (23 page)

When I come out, Ian has brought in our suitcases. He looks like he might have splashed cold water on his face too. I know he yanked on his hair because it’s got an extra lilt to it that wasn’t there earlier.

He stands between the curtains of the bedroom and I walk to him, staring him down. His eyes rove over my body and land on my lips. He gives his hair another tug and I realize he’s trying not to swear. It just hits me that he’s showing restraint in more areas than one. I can’t stop the smile that widens with each step toward him. When I reach him, he picks me up and wraps my legs around his waist, holding me up as if it’s nothing. He kisses me like he’s starving.

He turns around and tosses me on the bed and leans over me, kissing me just as hard. I pull off his shirt, anxious to get to his skin. He pulls off my dress and curses when he sees my red push-up bra and panties. A laugh escapes my lips and he looks flushed. I unbutton his pants then, initiating a step further than I have yet. He pulls them the rest of the way down and I’m in for a ginormous surprise. It’s been dark or he’s hidden it well under pants or the covers, but there is no hiding how much he now wants out of his pants and into me. He grins sheepishly at me. “What can I say?” he says softly.

“Say you won’t stop this time.”

“If this is what you want, I won’t.”

I reach out and carefully pull off his boxer briefs, not quite sure where to focus my eyes. What’s the right thing to do here? Is this a time when it really is okay to ogle? Or try to focus on his eyes in a loving way? I can’t help it, I have to peek.

And
that’s
what a real man looks like.

I had no idea it would be that … impressive.

He’s kissing me and I can’t think anymore. I lose myself for a while in his tongue and arms and all the places his fingers explore. He has me yelling his name before he even lays gently on top of me and slowly—
so
slowly—he inches inside of me. My eyes are wide on his as he takes his sweet time.

“You’re in me,” I whisper.

“I know,” he grins.

“I love it.”

He closes his eyes for a second and says, “I can’t take it when you say things like that.”

He leans down and kisses me and while the sweetness doesn’t go away, a whole new level of desire takes over.

We begin to move, slow and steady. He goes deeper and deeper, until I feel like he must be bumping every internal organ and giving it a kiss. It’s too good and suddenly I’m gasping, “I can’t go slow anymore,” in a voice I don’t recognize.

“Go, baby, I’m right here with you.” His eyes never leave my face as he guides my hips and we find a new rhythm.

I do. I go. And the pleasure escalates to such a frenzy, I’m afraid I’ll scare every houseboat neighbor within 1,000 yards.

- 17 -

For the next day and a half, we don’t leave the bed unless it’s to get food, go to the bathroom, take a bath together, or to christen the other two beds in the house-boat. We’re in the loft bed now, looking at the water as Ian lightly tickles my skin with his fingertips. My body feels languorous, or as my mama would say, limp as a dishrag. I am completely spent, but still whenever he turns to me, wanting me again, my body heats up for more. I’d say more than a half dozen times would not be stretching the truth … I think I lost count after the fifth time. And I know we did it on the deck and the second bathroom at least once. Oh wait, twice on the deck.

I can’t get enough of him. He touches me and makes me feel like a hungry nymph. I’m trying not to look at him right now because we need to get up and get ready for his show, but as long as he keeps doing that across my chest, I won’t move. I’ve never felt more beautiful in my life than I do right now, lying here completely naked in this bed with Ian Sterling. He has been over every single millimeter of my flesh and acts as if he’s discovering something new with each glance. I have also studied him very carefully and think there can’t be a finer specimen on this planet than him. He is perfection in every way. His body is the kind that you see on billboards but don’t really believe can exist in real life. And every underwear ad I’ve seen, pfft. They don’t have anything on Ian, let me just make that clear.

If there were a line-up of a thousand penises, I’d recognize his in a heartbeat.

I start laughing at that thought and can’t stop. Ian leans up on his elbow. “What?”

I shake my head and can’t get a word out, I’m laughing too hard. When I laugh this hard, I do a long wheeze and it sounds like I’m not breathing. ‘Cause I’m not.

He starts laughing, too, because the wheeze is infectious. You can’t not laugh at the wheeze. It’s impossible.

“I want to know what’s so funny.”

I wipe the tears from my eyes and try to tell him, but all I can get out is, “Your penis!”

He laughs but not quite as hard as before. “Uh, my penis makes you laugh?”

“Nooo. Yes. No!”

“And I would have thought you’d say, ‘parts’ or ‘willy’ or some other cutesy name.”

“It’s where my dad put his foot down. My mom wanted to call the penis a ‘fountain’ but my dad said no way.”

It’s his turn to wheeze. “I’m so glad he didn’t let that one slip in.” He sits up and pulls me with him. “What
about
my penis?”

“I love it.” I snort. “I’m sorry. I am
not
good at talking about these things.”

“Well, I’m glad. Although, you have me a little self-conscious at the moment.”

“Noooo, you don’t need to be. I think you have the best one I’ve ever seen. I mean … I haven’t seen many. Or
any
, really. Other than pictures, but…” I throw my head in my hands. “Please don’t make me talk about penises.”

“You brought it up! Just tell me what had you howling.” He gives me a good shake.

I whisper, “I thought if there were a line-up of a thousand penises, I’d be able to pick out yours. Because it’s the best. Massive. Those underwear ads are of little puny guys with nothing … I guess seeing one like yours would send young girls and horny women and little old ladies into
fits
in public.”

Ian is just staring at me like I’m a lunatic and then he falls back on the bed and laughs until he cries. I think I’m going to have to give him CPR the way he’s carrying on.

“Oh my
GOD
! You are a
nut
! You’re crazy! You’re crazy and I love you and that is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, it’s just true,” I sniff, not sure I like being called a nut, but my heart still going into overdrive that he’s telling me he loves me.

He wipes his eyes and continues to laugh, shaking his head and then realizing I’m not laughing anymore. “Hey, come here. Don’t you get miffed at me. I think you’re adorable.”

I roll my eyes.

“Baby, you just told me I’m massive and that underwear ads have little puny guys with nothing. I might not have been thinking right when I called you a nut or crazy.
Clearly
, you are the smartest person with the best eyesight EVER, and I commend you on your excellent vision.”

“That’s better,” I scowl for as long as it will hold and then crack up again.

Getting ready is fun with Ian. It takes twice as long because we end up having sex in the shower, but I diffuse my hair, leaving it curly, which helps save a lot of time. Ian told me it’s his favorite way that I wear my hair after he saw it wet that day in New York. Pale and naturally curly hair. Next he’ll be saying he prefers me with no makeup.

I put on a silver tube dress that fits like a glove.

“Speaking of massive,” Ian murmurs, pushing down the top of my dress to kiss my breasts before grudgingly covering them up. “They—I mean—YOU look like the one I never want to leave my bed.”

My body burns with that thought. “I thought you were a leg guy,” I say as we get into the car.

“I’m all about your legs,” he agrees. “Until I see your tits and then I can’t get enough of them. But really your aaa—bum. Your bum is out of this world.”

I can’t help but laugh at him.

“Your mouth, though, that’s my favorite. Your lips. Your smile. When you smile, everything else fades away.”

“Unless I take off my shirt.”

“Well, yeah, it
is
distracting when you do that. I do always go back to your mouth, though, don’t I?” He runs his fingers over my lips.

Sigh. He melts me.

We load all the equipment into the back of The Great American Music Hall and run into the guys in Ian’s band—Charlie, Chris, and Aaron. They’re all cute, scruffy, and friendly. Reagan Waters walks by and Ian hollers. “Reagan, come here. Reagan, I’d like you to meet Sparrow. Sparrow, Reagan.”

Reagan gives me the long appraisal that most girls always do with me at first and grins when she sees both of Ian’s hands on me. Her catlike eyes reach mine, and she give me a slow smile. “Well. It’s about time Ian met his match,” she says. She tosses her reddish-blonde hair back and holds out her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” I say.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet
you
.”

“Reagan is opening tonight,” Ian explains. “And throughout the summer, she’ll be opening the shows.”

The thought of that makes me feel a little queasy. She really is beautiful.

“I’d love to hear how the two of you met,” she says.

Ian is still wrapped around my back and he leans down to kiss my cheek. “We met at a restaurant with mutual friends. She brought her boyfriend…”

I laugh. “That doesn’t sound very good, does it … but yeah … that’s about right.”

“How long ago was this?” Reagan looks between Ian and me.

I look at him. He creases his brow. “You know I’m horrible with dates—but that was about, what? A year ago?” He looks at me. “Can that be right? Wow. A little over a year ago.”

“Well, since we met, yeah.”

Reagan just stands there watching us with her mouth hanging open slightly. A little bit of fire shimmers in her eyes that wasn’t there a few minutes ago. She catches herself and closes her mouth, nodding. “It looks like you’ve got it all worked out now,” she says with a touch of bite. “I’m happy for you, Ian.”

“Thanks, Reagan,” Ian says sincerely.

Either he doesn’t know she doesn’t mean it or he’s a really good actor, pretending like he doesn’t on my account. It’s obvious to me that Reagan is trying to talk herself into being happy that Ian has found someone. Pretty sure they’ve had something between them.

When Reagan walks away, I watch Ian to see if he watches her walk away or if he gives away anything. He doesn’t. He kisses me and says, “Where would you like to be? I need to run over a few things with the guys. We’ve rehearsed like fiends before now, so it was okay that we haven’t practiced this week, but I
do
need to touch base with them before we go on. You can be with me, either in the green room or whatever they have set up for us. Or just wherever you’d like to be...”

“Do you think it’s okay if I go ahead and sit in the auditorium? I can read for a while before the show starts.”

“I don’t see why not. If you’re sure…” He looks disappointed that I’m not going with him.

After I have gawked at the beautiful building, I read and catch up on voice mails with my phone. I’m trying to ignore the sick feeling I have about Reagan. And her being on the road with Ian for the next few months. And whatever that vibe was with her. The show is about to start, and I put my phone away and people-watch.

“Sparrow?”

I turn around and see Laila at a table behind me. She’s by herself and looks stunning with a low cut red dress that looks a lot like the one I have. The room is casting a warm glow and her shoulder-length brown hair shines in the light. She’s sipping a cocktail and I debate walking over to her table, but I don’t really want to get caught there as the show is starting. The polite thing to do would be to ask her if she’d like to sit with me, since I’m closer, but something about her demeanor gives me pause.

“How are you, Laila?” I ask from my seat.

“Wonderful. How are you, Sparrow?”

“Really great.” I smile. “Where’s Jeff?” I look behind her, searching the room for his tall frame.

“He’s not here. He’s working on his book,” she says and takes another long swig of her cocktail until it’s empty. “He’s always working on a book, you know.”

I nod uncomfortably.

I’ve never been so grateful to feel the lights dim and hear the beginning sounds of chords playing. “Well, enjoy the show,” I say awkwardly to Laila and she holds up her glass to me.

Reagan is sitting at the piano and has changed into a black edgy evening gown. It looks glamorous on the top, but the bottom is frayed and all different lengths. She looks like an exotic mermaid. When she begins to play, the room goes quiet and she casts us under her haunting spell for the next 45 minutes or so. I look back at Laila, and she is nursing another drink and looking at me. She raises it again, and I wave and turn around, confused by her behavior.

Ian comes out and the place comes alive, yelling and cheering. His band kicks in and I enjoy seeing Ian front and center with his own band. They sound great together. Having the band behind him gives his songs a whole different feel. A little more edgy, rather than the blues sound he had alone. His voice, even with the rasp and edge, comes out of him effortlessly. When he reaches the rafters, he’s still controlled. But you feel the emotion behind every note, every inflection. I believe every line he sings.