Julian and I left the party not long after Gael was declared the winner. Cameron moaned and bitched, but finally accepted his defeat with a hearty clap on Gael’s shoulder.

“After all those godawful drinks, you deserve to win,” he told Gael.

“Thanks, Seth,” Gael called out. “Couldn’t have won without you.”

Seth gave him two thumbs up and went back to talking to a pair of handsome men. They were identical, which meant they were the twin guitarists of Cameron’s band Darkest Days.

The crowd was getting rowdier every minute. From the twitch in Julian’s eye I could tell he’d had enough of people for the night.

“Want to head out?” I put a hand on his chest. “We don’t have to stay the whole night.”

“We can go back to my place?” he offered with an upward tilt of his lips.

That was all it took for my insides to flutter.

“It would be nice to see how world-famous rock stars live,” I said.

“Don’t start thinking I have golden toilets or anything,” he said.

“You’ve at least got a piano in your living room, right?”

“Come over and see for yourself.”

The whole way there I was imagining what Julian’s place might look like. He’d never been a flashy person. I could easily see him in a normal apartment with a few subtle touches here and there that might indicate his wealth.

Or, since I had an idea of how much money his band brought in, he might live in a gigantic mansion on acres of private property. Julian did like to be alone, after all.

It turned out neither of my guesses were correct. Julian lived in an apartment, but it was the entire top floor of a luxurious condo building in the richest part of town. The lobby floors were marble with fancy art hanging on the walls.

I let out a whistle the moment Julian opened the door to his apartment and I saw inside his living room.

“How in the world did you get a grand piano in here?” I asked.

“With great effort,” he said.

“Your neighbors must either love you or hate you.”

“The walls are soundproofed.” He gave me a wicked little smirk.

I returned his smirk with a sultry smile of my own, then kicked off my shoes to explore the rest of the place.

His kitchen had all the newest appliances, all chrome and shiny. They looked like they hadn’t been used once, aside from the toaster.

“You still live off toast and sliced cheese?” I asked him.

“I put tomato slices on it sometimes.”

I had no idea how Julian was still so lean when his diet consisted of bread and cheese.

“At least you’re getting your vegetables,” I said.

“Remember when you used to cook for me?” he asked.

“You mean, remember when I used to try to cook for you?” I replied.

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Your memory is playing tricks on you.”

“You made some mean pancakes.”

“With pre-made batter from a box.”

Julian came up to me and slung an arm around my shoulder.

“Still counts,” he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

I relaxed into his side, his familiar scent surrounding me like a cloud. I inhaled deeply to get more of it.

“You’re sniffing me?” he asked, amused.

“As if you haven’t sniffed my hair a hundred times.”

He ducked to bury his face in the hair falling over my neck and shoulders. He made exaggerated snuffling sounds, like an animal foraging for food, making me laugh.

“Mmm, still using vanilla?” he murmured into my neck, the vibrations tickling my skin.

“If you like the smell so much, you can use my conditioner yourself,” I told him.

“You want to leave your stuff here?” he asked.

It wasn’t a teasing tone. He was serious. Nerves fluttered in my belly.

“Maybe,” I said.

I turned around and headed to the living room. I examined the piano, running my hands lightly over the glossy, black-lacquered instrument.

“We haven’t really had the talk yet,” I said.

“You mean, The Talk?” He put the stress on the words so I knew he got my meaning. He moved to the piano next to me and ran his hands lightly along the keys. He pressed down on a note or two, a low, mournful sound. “Do we need to? I’ve been calling you my girlfriend.”

“Is that what we are?” I looked down at the piano keys, avoiding his eyes. “We just got back together, but we’re already talking about me leaving stuff at your place and calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend and…”

Julian came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. He tugged until my back was nestled against his firm chest.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “We can slow down.”

The steady thrum of his heartbeat was audible, pounding against his rib cage, hammering against me.

I turned in his arms and cupped the back of his neck. I molded my body against his, until there wasn’t an inch of space between us. I leaned into him, grazing his lips with mine.

“I don’t want to slow down,” I murmured. “Not right now. Right now, I want to go fast.”

His eyes flashed with heat. Pulling me close, he captured my mouth with his. He took my request seriously, thrusting his tongue between my lips without any teasing. I opened to him with a moan, melting against him.

With one hand tangled in my hair, he used to other to cup my ass and tilt my hips to grind down. His length was already growing stiff. I rubbed against him like a cat in heat, clutching at his shoulders and devouring his mouth.

“Fuck, Ev…” he groaned. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Show me,” I gasped out.

He practically dragged me down a hallway and into his bedroom. We tumbled onto the four-poster bed in a tangle of limbs. The bedspread was a light shade of grey, as were the satin pillows.

“What happened to your all black sheets?” I teased breathlessly.

“Too depressing,” he said.

Then there was no more talking as clothes went flying and our mouths fused together.

Being with Julian was like nothing else. It was almost like the high I got from being on stage. I gave all of myself to the audience, and they gave themselves to me.

But with this, it was Julian and I coming together, sharing our bodies with each other, both giving and both taking.

He broke our kiss to attack my neck, no doubt leaving marks in his passion. He massaged my naked breasts with his hands, thumbs playing with my nipples. I writhed at the sensation as it went straight to my core.

I ran my hands from his shoulders, to his chest, to his torso. I wriggled down on the mattress until I could trace that tempting V of his hips. Then I went lower, until my fingers brushed a warm, hard length.

I wrapped my hand around him and he hissed with pleasure. I stroked once, twice, exploring the shape of him, the girth. He grunted with each stroke up and down, the wetness of his weeping head slicking up my hand.

My insides ached with every pulse and twitch of his cock, remembering the feel of him moving inside me, filling me, stretching me.

My desire for him spiked with a sudden need.

“Fuck me,” I gasped out loud. “Do it now.”

Julian growled. With no warning, he pushed two fingers into me, slippery and wet.

“Is this where you need me?” he rumbled low in his throat.

“Yes,” I groaned, bucking against his hand.

He increased the pace, adding a third finger, shoving in and out, until I was panting and squirming. He pulled out, making me moan, desperate for him. He grabbed my hips and in one smooth motion, turned me over on my stomach.

“On your knees.”

My inner walls clenched and throbbed at the order. I obeyed, tilting my hips until I was ass up, pulling a pillow to fit under my stomach.

He darted up to his nightstand and grabbed a foil packet, quickly rolling on protection. Then he was immediately on me, draped over my back. He sunk his teeth into the skin at the nape of my neck, making me gasp. He used his knees to nudge my thighs apart, baring me to him.

The head of his cock pressed against my entrance. He used his cock to draw a line up and down between my folds, teasing me.

I panted heavily and rotated my hips, pressing back to urge him on.

“Please,” I pleaded.

“Say it again,” he demanded.

“Fuck me!”

He thrusted forward. I whined, a long keening sound, then moaned loudly. He did it again, then again, in and out, a continuous push and pull.

My whole body began to quake as I squeezed and fluttered around him, milking his cock. His flared head scraped against the most perfect spot, sending sparks of pleasure across my vision.

“Oh god…” I whimpered, thrashing my head back and forth.

He used the flat of his palm to smack the curve of my ass. I gasped sharply at the echo of skin slapping skin, heat flooding my system. I always loved it when he did that. He hadn’t forgotten. He knew exactly how to play my body, as easily as he played his piano.

He pulled out and stayed there, nestled between my folds. My inner walls fluttered around nothing, feeling desolate and empty. I wiggled my hips, needy and wanton.

“Don’t stop,” I begged.

“Touch yourself.”

I brought a hand to my clit, rubbing furiously. He put just the tip in, giving me short, shallow thrusts.

“Julian…!” I cried out, feeling desperate and so, so close.

With a pump of his hips and a whack of his hand, he pierced me to my core and slapped my ass hard. I shrieked as I went over the edge, trembling and throbbing, letting out gasps and sobs.

With a final thrust, he grunted out loud, straining against me. His fingers dug into my hips, keeping me in place as he found his pleasure.

I shuddered and flopped onto my chest, limbs weak. He panted heavily, planting his cheek on the skin of my back. We came down from the high together, until our breathing slowed. He slipped out of me carefully and I hissed at the last aftershocks of pleasure. We cuddled, face to face with arms and legs intertwined.

He rubbed a hand against the side of my ass, soothing.

“Was it too much?” he asked.

“It was not enough, actually,” I replied, nudging his nose with mine.

“My little masochist,” he chuckled lightly.

“Only for you,” I said. “I know you’ll never do anything I won’t enjoy.”

“If I ever do…”

“I’ll tell you,” I promised.

He gazed into my eyes.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“I’m not.”

Julian let out a heavy sigh, his chest rising and falling. He squeezed me tight, almost enough to take the breath out of me. As if he were afraid I would slip through his fingers if he let go even an inch.

“I’m so fucking glad you’re back,” he murmured. “I can’t believe how lucky I am. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re actually here. Sometimes I worry I’m going to fuck it up again and—”

“Don’t.” I laced our fingers together. “It may have taken us some time, and we had to do a lot of growing up, but we found our way back to each other again.”

He dropped his head down to my neck and pressed a kiss there. It was tender, sweet. Not at all like the previous fiery kisses we’d traded.

“I just wish we’d been able to do that maturing together,” he said. “We wasted a lot of time.”

“We got to experience life without each other,” I reminded him. “We learned things about ourselves we wouldn’t have learned if we’d stayed together. And you know what they say,” I teased gently. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“It does,” he whispered. “I spent the entire time missing you.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” I replied.

He went quiet, his head ducking further into my neck, burying himself in my hair, as if to hide.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“I stopped writing my own music,” he whispered. “That’s why writing this song has been so hard.”

“What?”

Julian let go of me. He rolled onto his back, letting his arms fall to his side.

“After we broke up,” he started, “I stopped writing music. I joined Cherry Lips and Cerise was already so talented. I didn’t mind letting her take the lead.”

I leaned up on one elbow.

“But you used to compose music in your sleep,” I said. “Literally. Remember when you would wake up in the middle of the night with a melody in your head? We had to start keeping blank music sheets on the bedside table.”

“I know.” He smiled slightly, before his mouth twisted into a frown. “But after the two of us… I just couldn’t anymore. At first it was too painful.”

A feeling I knew all too well.

“And then when I finally managed to sit down at my piano, nothing would come out,” he continued. “Or at least, whatever came out was shit.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t.”

Julian snorted. “Ask Seth.” He rolled his head to the side to meet my gaze. “But then you showed up.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said.

His dark gaze had a weight to it. It had an intensity that reminded me of all the times we composed together.

“It’s not anything you did,” Julian said. “It’s what you are.”

“What am I?” I asked quietly.

Julian sat up on the bed, leaning over me. He put a hand to my cheek, cupping my face as he stared down.

“You’re my muse.”

Julian’s hand was warm on my cheek. I felt every swirl of his fingertips pressed gently against my skin.

“You’re my muse, Ev,” he repeated.

My heart swelled in my chest, filling until it was close to bursting

“I don’t know how I ever managed without you,” he murmured. “I need you.”

My breath hitched. He leaned down for a kiss.

Keith’s voice echoed in my head.

You need me, Ever.

If it weren’t for me you’d still be playing for free at shitty clubs.

You can’t do this without me.

The words sent panic and helplessness shooting though me, the familiar sense of being trapped.

I pulled away.

Julian’s hand dropped, confused.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, hurt in his voice.

Keith’s sneering tone filled my ears.

You can’t do this without me.

If you leave me, your career will be ruined.

To me, Julian’s confession sounded much the same.

I can’t do this without you.

If you leave me, my career will be ruined.

That same panic gripped my chest again.

I sat up in bed, swinging my legs around to place my feet on the floor. I could hear the rustling from the sheets, but Julian didn’t reach out to touch me.

“Ev…” Julian started. “What is it?”

“You can’t…”

I paused, gathering my thoughts. I needed to figure out a way to say it delicately, without causing him more pain. I needed to try and explain without going into my past.

“You may think it’s romantic to call me your muse,” I said. “Maybe some people would think it is. But to me, it’s not. It’s concerning. Unhealthy.”

“I don’t understand.”

Hugging my arms to my chest, I looked down at the dark hardwood. The cold air in the apartment felt desolate compared to the warmth of his touch.

“You shouldn’t have to rely on another person for your creativity,” I said. “It shouldn’t work like that.”

“Why not?” he said. “You inspire me.”

“And what happens if we break up again?”

I felt him freeze.

“Will you stop being able to compose again if we’re no longer together?” I pressed. “How do you think that makes me feel? Don’t you think it’s unfair to put all that pressure on any other person? As if I’m responsible for your success or failure?”

He did come to me then, wrapping his arms around me from behind.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Not at all.”

“That’s how it sounds to me,” I said. “Like I'm being guilted into staying just so you can keep making music.”

“Are you thinking of leaving?” he asked quietly, mournfully.

“No.” I turned to bury my face in his chest. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Even a gilded cage is still a cage,” I said. “We can’t have this hanging over our heads, the thought that I might be staying only out of guilt, only because you can’t do this without me. And the thought that you might only want to be with me because it helps your career. Julian, this whole thing just sounds fucked up.”

He gathered me up into his arms.

“I never meant for it to sound like that,” he said. “I’m not using you. And I’m not trying to guilt you.”

He dropped his head onto my shoulder, exhaling heavily.

“I wish I could tell you in words how much you mean to me,” he said. “But right now I’ll just have to do it through song.” He brought our heads together, pressing his forehead against mine. “Be patient with me?”

I took in a shuddering breath. I nodded and squeezed his hand.

“I can do that,” I said.

It would have to be enough.

For now.