"It's amazing," Richie said quietly.
She dropped her purse on a table next to the couch and turned; her gaze quizzical as she watched his eyes roam her space. "What is?"
"The space. I bet there's great light in the daytime." He walked to the center of the open loft and looked up at the skylight. Stars and shadowed clouds broke up the moonlight. He turned to her; she was staring at him like he'd just swallowed a bug in front of her. "I like open space," he said with a shrug.
His eyes slid over to the corner where the most amazingly feminine piece of furniture lay, curtained there with romance dripping from the ceiling. Her bed was that of a palace. White and fairytale perfect, raised up with one of those mattresses that invited sleep and sex, Sunday laziness and warm blankets on a cold day. He looked back at Alex.
She tilted her head a moment, the band at the back of her head feeling tighter than it had all day. She considered running him out, hell he'd done what he wanted and saw her inside, but after all was said and done he was still a contract, someone she HAD to be nice to right?
Right Alex, keep saying it enough you'll convince yourself. Lifting a hand she pulled the band from her hair, the first sigh of relief hitting her . "Would you like a cup of coffee or something to drink? Sorry I only have juice and there may even be a soda. Not sure."
His gut churned then evened out as she flicked her fingers through the slick ponytail, fanning her hair out so it arrowed down her back. Instead of a severe line across her back, it made a V that his fingers itched to get into. She shrugged out of her jacket, hooking it on a chair in her kitchen, and his gut flipped again, damned shirt barely had any back to it. He could see each indention of her spine for fucksakes.
Christ, get a hold of yourself, old man. "Uh, a coke or any sort of juice is fine."
She nodded and moved towards the kitchen area, her hand reaching for a glass without looking for its placement. Opening the fridge she pulled a carton of orange juice out, her eyes hitting the interior light, its brightness mixing and melding into a car’s oncoming lights.
Straightening quickly she opened the carton, her hand almost trembling as she began to pour the juice, her brain stalling as the lights flashed again and the glass dropped. Setting the carton on her counter, her hands went to her eyes. Jesus, it was a freaking accident. Someone had had a heart attack, it’s not like they were coming after her. The memory of the lights blinding her that second or two just wouldn’t go away.
"Ah, Lex." Richie rounded the large table that cut the kitchen into a room of its own. He stood behind her, not sure if she'd welcome a hug. Her scent hit him hard and low as she stiffened at his touch. He rubbed up and down her arms, until the chill eased as well as her shoulders.
She took a deep breath, trying to reel in the tumbling fear that made tears threaten. "I dropped the juice.”
"It's okay," he soothed, turning her around. "Here baby, sit down." He lightly flipped her hair over her shoulder and steered her toward a chair. "I'll get it." He cupped her jaw line until she looked at him.
The simple soothing touch hit harder than anything she'd felt in forever, her eyes lifting to catch his gaze. "I'm sorry, just, hell not used to being nearly mowed down you know?"
He crouched in front of her. "I know; its okay."
She forced back a shiver, a shiver caused solely by the heat of skin on skin. She had to reign in the crazy tumble of sensation, had to grab control back, but the longer those darned brown eyes stared the harder it was getting to do that simple thing..
She sure hoped it would be ok, she wasn't so sure though. "Glasses are in the first cabinet." Please just get your juice, if you keep kneeling there watching me, you'll end up seeing too much with those eyes of yours, you gotta just go get that juice.
She pulled a smile from somewhere and nodded. "Yeah, ok, I'll be ok." How'd he do it? Act like it hadn't happened? He was so calm, so together. She just didn't get it, she felt like all her togetherness had scattered in the glare of oncoming lights.
Richie resisted the urge to smooth his hands over her thighs or her hands that rested in her lap, clenched together. He wanted to soothe, to care, and to drag her over to that fairytale bed and hold her close. It was stupid. He didn't even want sex...well, not much anyway, but he wanted to hug her in. Hold her until she stopped shaking.
Instead, he stood. And as with a woman like Alex, her kitchen was ruthlessly organized, so he found the paper towels easily. When she protested, he just held his hand up. Swishing a clump of Bounty through the mess of glass and neon bright orange of the OJ, he scooped the sopping mess up and dropped it in her garbage. "That's going to be sticky. Do you have any cleaner?"
All thoughts dropped as her eyes widened. He wanted to mop up the mess? Musicians, famous or not just didn't do housework, at least the ones she'd met didn’t. "Uhh, cabinet beside the fridge."
Making quick work of it, he sprayed the floor down with the multi-purpose cleaner and dumped all the used paper towels in her garbage. He opened her fridge and filled a glass of water from a pitcher and another glass of juice for himself and sat at the table. "Take a drink." He folded his hands on top of the battered wood, that looked like it had spent part of its life as a door. "The first time anything like this happened to me, I ended up getting screaming drunk." Richie explained. "When you work in a business like this, we bump into a lot of wackos."
"Mine was a jealous boyfriend, when I was around twenty-four. Came at me with a knife."
When she just looked at him with wide eyes, he grinned. "Seriously. I didn't even know the chick, but he was certain I was bangin' the hell out of her." He shrugged. "It happened behind a small club after a show."
She blinked, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find a reply. Reaching for the glass she lifted it, and watched the water tremble in the glass. "Must of been eye opening."
"The thing about me is I came from the wrong side of the tracks. I was used to violence running with a--" he cut off, unsure how much to share. "Well, we'll say a wild crowd for a time. Music saved me, both literally and figuratively." He sipped at the sweet, pulpy juice and went on. It seemed that she was relaxing as he talked. "So, instead of getting into trouble on the streets, I had my guitar to keep me occupied. I taught myself, and pushed myself into the bars and into bands that needed a guitarist...some, like Jonny, that weren't really looking for me."
Instead, he stood. And as with a woman like Alex, her kitchen was ruthlessly organized, so he found the paper towels easily. When she protested, he just held his hand up. Swishing a clump of Bounty through the mess of glass and neon bright orange of the OJ, he scooped the sopping mess up and dropped it in her garbage. "That's going to be sticky. Do you have any cleaner?"
All thoughts dropped as her eyes widened. He wanted to mop up the mess? Musicians, famous or not just didn't do housework, at least the ones she'd met didn’t. "Uhh, cabinet beside the fridge."
Making quick work of it, he sprayed the floor down with the multi-purpose cleaner and dumped all the used paper towels in her garbage. He opened her fridge and filled a glass of water from a pitcher and another glass of juice for himself and sat at the table. "Take a drink." He folded his hands on top of the battered wood, that looked like it had spent part of its life as a door. "The first time anything like this happened to me, I ended up getting screaming drunk." Richie explained. "When you work in a business like this, we bump into a lot of wackos."
"Mine was a jealous boyfriend, when I was around twenty-four. Came at me with a knife."
When she just looked at him with wide eyes, he grinned. "Seriously. I didn't even know the chick, but he was certain I was bangin' the hell out of her." He shrugged. "It happened behind a small club after a show."
She blinked, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find a reply. Reaching for the glass she lifted it, and watched the water tremble in the glass. "Must of been eye opening."
"The thing about me is I came from the wrong side of the tracks. I was used to violence running with a--" he cut off, unsure how much to share. "Well, we'll say a wild crowd for a time. Music saved me, both literally and figuratively." He sipped at the sweet, pulpy juice and went on. It seemed that she was relaxing as he talked. "So, instead of getting into trouble on the streets, I had my guitar to keep me occupied. I taught myself, and pushed myself into the bars and into bands that needed a guitarist...some, like Jonny, that weren't really looking for me."
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