Taming the Storm
Page 74
“No, it wasn’t just that…it’s you. You’re amazing.”
Too deep…
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Not that you need me to tell you.”
“True.”
His laughter rumbles through his chest. I feel it deep inside me.
“But it’s nice to hear. I don’t often get compliments from you.”
“True.” I smile.
He kisses me once more. Then, he lifts himself up onto his hands. “I’m just gonna go clean up. Back in a sec.”
He eases out of me, and I watch him walk to the bathroom.
I hear running water, and he’s back moments later with a cloth in his hand. He crawls up the bed and presses the cloth between my legs.
I rest up on my elbows. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up after myself.” He gives me a cheeky grin. “And I wanted to take care of my girl.”
His girl?
He cleans me up and takes the cloth back to the bathroom. Then, he climbs back onto the bed, laying on his front.
Rolling onto my side, I start to trace my finger over his tattoo. “Who’s Thomas, the third?”
He stiffens under my hands. “My father.”
“You lost him?”
He sighs, and then his head turns my way. “Yeah.”
I lean down and press my lips to his tattoo. “I’m sorry you lost him. When did he pass?”
“A long time ago.” He moves away. Rolling onto his back, he puts his hands behind his head.
“So, that makes you Thomas, the fourth.”
“Yep.”
Remembering what he said before about having songs for people he’s lost, I ask in a soft voice, “What’s your dad’s song?”
Something painful passes through his eyes, and I instantly regret asking.
“‘Ordinary World.” His voice sounds odd…stiff.
“Duran Duran.”
He nods, once.
“So…do you listen to your dad’s song every day, like you do Jonny’s?”
He sits up abruptly. “Jesus Christ,” he snaps. “What the fuck is this? Grill Tom time?”
Taken aback by the sudden venom in his voice, I start to stammer out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. You know exactly what you’re doing. You want to know about me? Fine. No, Lyla, I don’t listen to that fucking song every day. I haven’t heard that song in sixteen years, and even that’s not long enough. So, is that sufficient information for you? Have you gotten enough out of me? Or do you need more?”
Tears hit my eyes, a lump forming in my throat. Confused and hurt, I sit up. Turning my back on him, I start to move away.
I hear him sigh. Then, he catches my wrist. I feel him move up behind me. His long legs come either side of mine. His chest against my back, his arms close around me, holding me, he presses the side of his face to mine.
“I’m sorry. I just…I don’t talk about my dad. Ever.”
I remember what he said to me about needing to talk about loss. I want to remind him of this, but I’m afraid to push it, worried that I’ll push him away if I do.
“It’s okay. I understand.” I close my hand around his wrist.
We’re trapped in this awkward moment, and I don’t know what to say, so I say the first thing that comes into my mind. “Do you have a song for me?”
He moves his face from mine. I can feel his eyes on me, so I turn my head to look at him.
He looks puzzled. “I haven’t lost you, have I?”
“No.” I shake my head gently. “But the tour will end, and—” I stop because I don’t know how to finish the sentence, or if I even want to.
Tom’s eyes flash with something I don’t understand.
Then, he says, “‘Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven.’”
And my heart stills in my chest.
That song was playing the night we had sex under that stage.
“Bryan Adams,” I croak out.
He nods, eyes fixed to mine. “Well, either Bryan’s version or the one that band was playing the night you let me go where no man had gone before.” A sexy smile lights up his face.
I’m speechless. For once in my life, I have no words.
That song…its meaning…
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
Because if he’s saying what I think he’s saying, then—
“So, do you have a song that reminds you of me?” His voice breaks into my thoughts.
I rub my head, trying to gather my wits. “Oh, um…yeah…‘Gorilla.’” I force a smile to my face.
He lets out a laugh. “Because I’m a beast in the sack, right?”
“More like, because you tortured me with it when you were on your text message roll in that diner.”
He lets out another laugh, taking us both down to the bed.
Tucking me into his side, he starts to stroke my hair.
But I’m still stuck in my head, stuck on that song. I run the lyrics over and over in my mind, wondering if Tom just said that because it reminds him of that amazing moment under that stage…or, if because he also feels the meaning of the song.
If he does, then what does that mean for him and me? And do I want it to mean something?
Could it mean something? Could someone as emotionally broken as I am and someone like Tom, who is as emotionally closed off as he is, have something together?
Too deep…
“Well, you’re not so bad yourself. Not that you need me to tell you.”
“True.”
His laughter rumbles through his chest. I feel it deep inside me.
“But it’s nice to hear. I don’t often get compliments from you.”
“True.” I smile.
He kisses me once more. Then, he lifts himself up onto his hands. “I’m just gonna go clean up. Back in a sec.”
He eases out of me, and I watch him walk to the bathroom.
I hear running water, and he’s back moments later with a cloth in his hand. He crawls up the bed and presses the cloth between my legs.
I rest up on my elbows. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up after myself.” He gives me a cheeky grin. “And I wanted to take care of my girl.”
His girl?
He cleans me up and takes the cloth back to the bathroom. Then, he climbs back onto the bed, laying on his front.
Rolling onto my side, I start to trace my finger over his tattoo. “Who’s Thomas, the third?”
He stiffens under my hands. “My father.”
“You lost him?”
He sighs, and then his head turns my way. “Yeah.”
I lean down and press my lips to his tattoo. “I’m sorry you lost him. When did he pass?”
“A long time ago.” He moves away. Rolling onto his back, he puts his hands behind his head.
“So, that makes you Thomas, the fourth.”
“Yep.”
Remembering what he said before about having songs for people he’s lost, I ask in a soft voice, “What’s your dad’s song?”
Something painful passes through his eyes, and I instantly regret asking.
“‘Ordinary World.” His voice sounds odd…stiff.
“Duran Duran.”
He nods, once.
“So…do you listen to your dad’s song every day, like you do Jonny’s?”
He sits up abruptly. “Jesus Christ,” he snaps. “What the fuck is this? Grill Tom time?”
Taken aback by the sudden venom in his voice, I start to stammer out, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. You know exactly what you’re doing. You want to know about me? Fine. No, Lyla, I don’t listen to that fucking song every day. I haven’t heard that song in sixteen years, and even that’s not long enough. So, is that sufficient information for you? Have you gotten enough out of me? Or do you need more?”
Tears hit my eyes, a lump forming in my throat. Confused and hurt, I sit up. Turning my back on him, I start to move away.
I hear him sigh. Then, he catches my wrist. I feel him move up behind me. His long legs come either side of mine. His chest against my back, his arms close around me, holding me, he presses the side of his face to mine.
“I’m sorry. I just…I don’t talk about my dad. Ever.”
I remember what he said to me about needing to talk about loss. I want to remind him of this, but I’m afraid to push it, worried that I’ll push him away if I do.
“It’s okay. I understand.” I close my hand around his wrist.
We’re trapped in this awkward moment, and I don’t know what to say, so I say the first thing that comes into my mind. “Do you have a song for me?”
He moves his face from mine. I can feel his eyes on me, so I turn my head to look at him.
He looks puzzled. “I haven’t lost you, have I?”
“No.” I shake my head gently. “But the tour will end, and—” I stop because I don’t know how to finish the sentence, or if I even want to.
Tom’s eyes flash with something I don’t understand.
Then, he says, “‘Thought I’d Died and Gone to Heaven.’”
And my heart stills in my chest.
That song was playing the night we had sex under that stage.
“Bryan Adams,” I croak out.
He nods, eyes fixed to mine. “Well, either Bryan’s version or the one that band was playing the night you let me go where no man had gone before.” A sexy smile lights up his face.
I’m speechless. For once in my life, I have no words.
That song…its meaning…
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
Because if he’s saying what I think he’s saying, then—
“So, do you have a song that reminds you of me?” His voice breaks into my thoughts.
I rub my head, trying to gather my wits. “Oh, um…yeah…‘Gorilla.’” I force a smile to my face.
He lets out a laugh. “Because I’m a beast in the sack, right?”
“More like, because you tortured me with it when you were on your text message roll in that diner.”
He lets out another laugh, taking us both down to the bed.
Tucking me into his side, he starts to stroke my hair.
But I’m still stuck in my head, stuck on that song. I run the lyrics over and over in my mind, wondering if Tom just said that because it reminds him of that amazing moment under that stage…or, if because he also feels the meaning of the song.
If he does, then what does that mean for him and me? And do I want it to mean something?
Could it mean something? Could someone as emotionally broken as I am and someone like Tom, who is as emotionally closed off as he is, have something together?
