Ten
Wasn’t it dudes who were supposed to be the ones who fell asleep after sex?
Stupid stereotypes.
I couldn’t sleep. I was too fucking hyped up by what just exploded between us. And by explode, I didn’t mean my dick. Though that happened, too.
Vi, though. She didn’t seem to have that problem. I might be offended, actually, if she wasn’t so damn adorable. I was almost one hundred percent positive Vi was the first woman to ever fall asleep after sex with me. Most women would roll over and gush about how great I was in bed or muse about the fact they’d slept with Ten.
Usually about that time, I’d be done with it (with her) and get up to get dressed.
Not today.
Not with Violet.
I didn’t want to move. Putting on clothes was about the furthest thought from my mind. I held her, something I very rarely did with women after sex. I left myself buried in her body and enclosed her in my arms. Within just a few minutes, Vi was asleep, her breathing deep, the rise and fall of her chest steady.
Oddly, it endeared her to me more.
This girl… she was totally wrong. For so many reasons. She had no clue who I was, fell asleep instead of being awed at my cock, didn’t like to party or dance, wasn’t famous or a model, and didn’t even drink. Or eat bread (which still blew my mind).
I had no idea how so wrong could equal so very right.
She was a strong shot of reality in my unrealistic world. I didn’t know how, but somewhere along the way, everything around me and about me became totally unreal. I was seriously beginning to think becoming public enemy number one was the best thing that could have happened to me.
Sort of like how the ghost of Christmas past came and visited Scrooge to show him all the errors of his ways. Came to shine light on shit the man was too boneheaded to see.
I felt grateful right now.
Grateful to be holed up in the tiny dorm room with an unlikely woman sprawled across my chest, sleeping contently. Grateful I had to go into hiding, even if it started out as something I was bitter about, something that had just been a means to an end.
I didn’t want to go back there. To the place where being grateful was a new emotion.
What the hell happened to me?
Who the fuck had I become?
I forgot about Tennison, becoming instead The Perfect Ten.
Violet made me Stark. This entire town. Being back with Nate and Derek served me a nice hot slice of humble pie.
I liked this better.
I missed music, though. Even as I lay here, totally satisfied, words of the song I’d been writing with Nate crowded my head. All the feelings swirling inside me seemed to inspire them, and more words came, adding to what we already had.
Tangled up in drama, nowhere to go but down,
Hitting rock bottom has a definite sound.
Standing among the shadows, when I’m usually blinded by the light.
Realizing how eye opening the darkness is,
Feeling imprisoned all these years by sight.
Actions speak louder than words,
But what if no one listens?
As much as I loved this new sort of existence, I still wanted my career back. I wasn’t sure there was an option for both.
Fear came over me like a black cloud on a sunny day. I was living a lie, something I hated to admit but was the truth just the same. Violet didn’t know me.
Wait.
I hated that thought. Despised. Resented.
She did know me, goddammit. She knew the guy I wanted to be. The one I never even realized was deep down inside me.
She wouldn’t see it that way. I’d been lying all this time. For a couple weeks now. I’d slept with her… I couldn’t stop myself. I had to tell her, but I didn’t know how.
I didn’t want to.
What if I lost her?
I wanted to keep her.
I wanted her to be mine. Entirely.
The truth, though, the truth might tear us apart.
Violet made a sound and shifted against me. Her foot, which had been dangling off my leg, flexed, and she made a sound.
I caressed her back lightly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“My ankle hurts,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.
There was a heartbeat after she spoke. Then her body went still. Violet lifted her head off my chest and peeked up at me with only one open eye. “I said that out loud?”
Brushing away the strands of blond hair stuck to her cheek, I answered. “Is that a bad thing?”
She shrugged against me. “Complaining after sex isn’t too sexy.”
“You already fell asleep. I think we’re past that.” I teased.
Her cheeks turned pink, and I laughed as she ducked her face against me. I poked her in the ribs, and she jolted a little. “So what can I do about this ankle problem?”
She made a sound. “Nothing. It’s just the way I’m lying. It’s overextended.”
It was easy to not think about her illness because, like she said before, she didn’t look sick. And I never had to think about the way I lay or how my joints felt. It was clear, though, it was always there for her.
I started to slide her off me so we could adjust her position. She made a sound of protest and dug her nails into my skin.
“Ow!” I hollered. “I’m trying to help you, woman!”
“I don’t want to move,” she retorted. Then, in a softer voice, she said, “I like where I am.”
“I think we might actually be stuck together,” I said, my voice turning rueful. Inside, though, beneath the humor, my heart grew with her words. “This paint is sticky as shit.”
She laughed. “It’s smeared everywhere.” She lifted her head and glanced at the bed and groaned. “Now I’m going to have to wash the sheets.” Her voice was so forlorn I laughed.
“It’s still all over your hair.” I brushed it back once more.
Her fingers shot out to brush lightly over my cheek. “My kisses are just messy blobs now.”
I lifted my head off the pillow and captured her lips. Her body melted into mine as our tongues swirled together. She tasted so damn good. I rolled, pinning her beneath me as we continued to kiss. When our lips unlocked, I stayed close and rubbed my stubble along her cheek.
“You have stubble burn on your face,” I rumbled, kissing the side of her jaw.
“My skin turns red easily.” She grimaced. “I really hope this paint doesn’t irritate it.”
After dropping another fast kiss fully on her mouth, I pushed off her and sat up. Glancing over my shoulder, I gazed at her still spread out on the bed, blankets around her legs, and paint literally everywhere.
“You’re going to need help scrubbing that paint off.”
Her eyes met mine. “You wanna help me?”
A slow smile curled my lips. “Is that even a question?”
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, emotions playing quickly on her face.
“I’ve already seen you naked, Vi.” I pointed out.
“I’m not as—” She paused as if she didn’t know what to say. Instead, she gestured to my body and wagged her eyebrows.
I chuckled. “What the fuck does”—I repeated her action—“mean?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what it means.”
I dove back on her, caging her in with my body. “I know you’re being stupid right now,” I intoned. I hated that she seemed insecure about the way she looked. I didn’t want her to be. There was no reason for it.
She pulled my hair.
“Ow!” I yelled for the second time. Then a glint came into my eye. “You into rough sex?”
She burst out laughing. “No!”
Even though we were joking, emotion rushed into my chest. “Good, because I don’t think I could do it. Not with you. I don’t want to hurt you, Vi.”
Violet’s eyes softened and her hand cupped my face. “How about that shower?”
I turned my head to kiss her palm.
The shower was small, so we had to stand extra close. Her body wash smelled like peppermint, which made me think of candy canes.
“This makes me think of the holidays,” I said as I slid the white puffy thing over her shoulder and down her arm.
“That’s why I like it.”
“You like Christmas?” I asked.
“Doesn’t everybody?”
I was silent a moment, continuing my perusal of her body and pretending it was for the sake of getting her clean. I guess it was partly, but really, it was just an excuse to touch her more.
“Stark?” She glanced at me.
I lifted my head. “Sure,” I said. Then after a moment, I went on. “Actually, the holidays have been more about work for me the past few years. I haven’t gotten much downtime.”
Translate that to no downtime. It was about appearances, parades, and promo. Last Christmas, I was in a hotel room by myself because I’d done a giant parade the morning of.
“Work?” She wrinkled her nose. “You have a job?”
I stopped washing. Fuck. I was afraid this was going to happen. My guard was crumbling, and I was going to start slipping up, talking about the life she didn’t know about. Ten and Stark were blending together. “Um, yeah.” I scrambled. “You know, seasonal jobs. I usually get one over the holidays. Spending money.”
“Gotta keep stocked on the duct tape.” She teased and poked me in the stomach.
I tickled her, and she dissolved into laughter.
I ignored the lump in my throat and how fucking shitty it felt to lie to her.
“Maybe this year you can take a little time off,” she said after I went back to washing her. “Maybe we could, uh, hang out.” Her voice was shy. It was sweet. The notion of spending time with her over the holidays made my chest tight. “You know, before I go home for the break.”
“Home?” I asked, nearly dropping the pouf. I hadn’t even thought about that. “Where is that?”
“Pennsylvania, a few hours from here.”
I realized then I didn’t know much about her life, just like she didn’t know anything about mine. It was as though we were two perfect strangers, except we weren’t. We knew each other far too well, just not on a superficial level.
I didn’t want to talk anymore. Not about anything that could come between us. I moved my hand down to her chest, leaving a trail of white bubbles across her breast. She made a sound, and I did it again.
Our bodies slid along each other’s, the soap making it far too easy to glide together. We used too much of that peppermint stuff. The scent clouded the small bathroom. Suds clung to the walls, our skin, and her chin.
We made out until the water went cold and Violet was shrieking under the spray, trying to rinse the conditioner out of her hair. I wasn’t cold, though. Need kept my blood near boiling.
Vi’s teeth were chattering when I reached around her to turn off the spray.
“Hey!” she scolded, scowling at me from beneath dripping, long hair. “What if there’s conditioner left in there.” She pointed at her head.
“You’re freezing.” I pointed out, reaching for a towel.
“Well, if I look like crap, you’re the one who will have to look at me,” she quipped as I wrapped her in the fabric.
“You couldn’t look like crap if you tried,” I said, rubbing my hands along her arms as she shivered.
Her eyes drifted up. Drops of water clung to her lashes and her lips were wet. “Aren’t you cold?” she asked.
I smirked and kept rubbing warmth into her. “You’re just delicate.”
She gazed at me for long moments, sucking a bead of water off her lower lip. “I kinda am. You better be careful with me.”
Her whispered confession pierced me. Like a tiny needle capable of creating an immeasurable amount of pain. The air around us thickened, not from the humidity of the long shower, but from the intensity of the way our energy collided. I’d never felt anything so intense with another person.
I didn’t know what to say. Even if I thought of something, I wouldn’t have known how to say it, so I let the thick silence speak for itself. I focused instead on drying her completely. The towel was thick and soft, making the job much quicker than I would have liked. When her body was dry, I squeezed the water out of the ends of her long hair, then pushed them back over her shoulders.
“C’mere,” I murmured, pulling her into my chest. I was still wet, but the towel around her soaked up some of the water. Violet’s arms wound around my waist, and I held her close, resting my chin atop her head.
While I dried off, I watched her run a comb through her wet hair and put a bunch of shit in it before tugging an oversized black T-shirt over her head. I liked the way it brushed against the backs of her bare thighs.
While I was yanking my boxers out of my jeans, she retrieved a couple bottled waters out of her tiny fridge and carried them over to me. Without thinking, I grabbed them both, untwisted the cap on one, and handed it to her. She seemed a little surprised but took it, tilting it to her lips.
“What’s the deal with your knuckle?” I said, watching her as I drank down some of my own water.
A self-conscious glint came into her eyes, and Violet ducked her head. I cursed inwardly because that was a dick thing to say. I mean, I wanted to know. But shit, I could have asked nicer.
“Hey,” I said, soft, lifting her face with my fingers. “I didn’t mean to sound like that. Sometimes I’m a dipshit and just blurt things out. I’ve, ah, never been good at…”
“Not being a dipshit?” she asked, grinning.
“Yeah.” I agreed, dry. I shifted closer, angling my body into hers. “It just bothers me to see it, not because it’s ugly to look at, but because it reminds me that you hurt.”
She drank some more water, then set aside the bottle. Holding her hand out between us, she gazed down at the knuckle of her right hand pointer finger. “That’s what RA does. It can basically deform your joints. This is the only one I have like this. It probably doesn’t help I use this finger as a shading tool for my art.” She shrugged.
I lifted her hand and kissed the area.
“You’re the first person, outside of family, who actually kinda gets it… It’s like you actually care.”
“Oh, baby. I care,” I whispered, threading our fingers together. “And I know what it’s like to have parts of you invisible to the rest of the world.”
Her forehead wrinkled, and that panicked feeling of having her find out about me seized my chest. I stepped even closer, bringing our bodies so close they touched. The air was back to being thick again. I took a deep breath, reveling in the pull between us.
I kissed her, slow and deep. I reached for something inside her, that same thing that generated the palpable feelings and tension around us. It was an overwhelming feeling to experience. To succumb to. That didn’t stop me from reaching for more, though.
Violet’s hands slid up my bare chest, clasped around my neck. I loved the way she always rose on tiptoe, as if she were reaching, too.
The desire that built up inside me in the shower came back like a freight train, creating a slight tremble in my fingers.
Her body started shivering again, which concerned me, and I pulled back enough so I could look into her eyes. “Are you still cold?”
Her eyes were brilliant blue fire, the pupils dilated, which only fueled the need pooling in my balls. “No, I’m not,” she whispered.
Stomach muscles contracting, I pulled her into my body again, allowing her to feel the rocking boner stiffening between us. I moved, walking us toward the bed to gently push her down. She resisted, and I drew back instantly, a question in my eyes.
“There’s paint all over the sheets,” she said, a little sheepish. “I do not want to wash my hair again.”
I chuckled and moved around her to pull all the blankets up, covering up the sheets. “Better?”
She nodded.
Before pushing her back down again, I stripped the shirt over her head, loving the fact she’d yet to put on panties. My hands caressed the outline of her body, following the dips and curves, finally settling at her waist.
The first time had been a mix of emotion. Of glow-in-the-dark paint and raw need hammering inside my veins. This time was similar… but it was also more. The paint was washed away, leaving only her and me. Now there was one emotion battling back some of the others, even at the impatience in my body.
“I want you so much,” I whispered, avoiding even saying the word inside my mind.
Beneath me once more, Violet gazed up. Her eyes held that feeling I’d been reaching for when I kissed her before.
“Stark.” My name slipped right off her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. Like it was the only word she would ever need.
I didn’t say anything else because, honestly, words failed me. I dipped my head and kissed her, though it went deeper than her lips.
I made love to her. It was really the only way to describe it. I wanted to show her all the things I couldn’t say. Hopefully, if I could make her feel the same way I did, she might forgive me when the truth about who I really was came out.