Love is Everything, page 9
I took a long swig of my drink and tried to calm myself. I needed to control my emotions, listen to the music, capture the moments he caught my eye, and enjoy the gig like everyone else. I would deal with what would happen later when it arrived.
The beginning chords to a song sounded out as Elliot positioned himself in front of the microphone. He cast his gaze around the audience once again, this time not looking my way as he waited for the introduction to lead into his words. I stared unabashed at him as he swayed his hips in time with the music and tapped his thighs with his hands. I took the time to scrutinise his appearance—wild, sex-fuelled hair, a cleanly shaven face, an earring which caught the light every time he turned his head. Black faded jeans hugged his thighs, but it was his t-shirt that made me smile. The black top was studded with silver sequins which spelt out the word ‘WHORE’. Elliot certainly didn’t mind playing the game and acting the part for his adoring fans.
Kirsty was in her element, her head fixed forward and tipped up slightly meaning she was focused fully on Elliot. But I didn’t mind, for I knew who he was going home with tonight, and I knew who he wanted to be with. It wasn’t her. My thoughts surprised me, they were clear, concise and not laced with the slightest bit of jealousy. Perhaps a small part of me felt sorry for her. Elliot knew how to affect women, it wasn’t her fault she had fallen for him the way she had. And if his reputation of how good a lover he was held any truth, then I could imagine she’d be desperate for a repeat performance. But I would be the woman he took home tonight, and I intended to be that woman for many more nights to come.
All evening I kept my eyes on Elliot, turning around to have a quick word with Kate only left me staring at her and her lecturer playing tonsil hockey. She was far too busy to have time to talk to me. I shook my head and prepared myself to be there for her when it all went wrong. I hated being so negative, but that was me, practical to the core, boring and rule abiding Grace. Well, maybe not tonight.
I recognised some of the songs, but not all of them. After a particularly loud song called ‘Catching Glass’, Elliot asked for a high stool from the bar. He picked an acoustic guitar from the back of the stage and then took his time getting comfortable on the stool and positioning the microphone at the right level.
“This song is a new one for us tonight,” he said as people muttered their approval. “It’s a quiet one, give you all time to cool down for a few minutes.” He grinned and looked back to Sid. “This one’s about a very special lady who’s come in to my life. It’s called Rapture.”
Most of the audience ‘awwed’, a few wolf-whistled. I froze. This was a song about me. And he was performing it for the first time tonight.
I looked to the floor, my cheeks flaming as if everyone in the room was staring at me. Of course they weren’t, they didn’t have a clue who the song was about, but my temperature rose, my breathing hitched, and I forced myself not to flee the room.
Sid counted Elliot in with three hits of his drum sticks and then Elliot began to play. My awe for the man grew even more as he began to play and then sing. With only the guitar as background the true depth of Elliot’s voice was heard. Words usually lost in the noise of the rest of the group were clear. Words about me.
‘Emotions so strong, never felt this before,
You’ve unlocked my heart, opened the door,
Can’t hide away, can’t keep away,
Depth of brown eyes, hungry for more,
Rush of sensations, too strong to ignore,
Won’t hide away, won’t keep away . . .’
By the time he had finished the song, I was struggling to contain my tears. When he looked up at me, unsure, as if seeking my approval, I could only nod.
As if understanding my situation, he smiled at the rest of the crowd and then placed the guitar at the side of the stage. Without a moment’s pause the group began another track and Elliot announced it as their final song of the evening. This one was loud and designed to get the audience dancing in the limited space they had.
All I wanted was to have the man on stage to myself. To have him wrap me in his arms and kiss me.
When the song was over the crowd cheered for more, but it seemed an encore wasn’t going to happen. The group disappeared through the side door and the overhead strip lights were switched on.
“They were amazing tonight,” Kate said as she tapped my shoulder.
I nodded my agreement as I turned to face her. Her lecturer smiled at me and I gave him a brief curl of my lip. I’d not really paid him much attention before, but as he stood next to Kate with his arm over her shoulder, I struggled to see what she saw in him. He was easily in his forties, a middle-aged man playing a predator with the young students. But who was I to judge? Kate obviously saw something she liked, although I struggled to see what.
“Are you okay if we leave?” Kate asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.
“No worries,” I replied, and then held her arm. “Just be careful. Please?”
She nodded and then headed to the exit, lecturer in tow.
A lot of people were heading for the exit, but many hung back, still drinking and chatting with their friends. Kirsty glared at me from across the room, but I ignored her, and fixed my attention on the door where Elliot would emerge. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long. The door opened and Sid led the rest of the group into the room. Elliot was last and immediately turned my way. Kirsty’s gaze never left him as he crossed the room, shaking hands with some of the men, accepting pats on the back from others. He smiled politely at the females who spoke to him but made it obvious he wasn’t stopping for a chat. Eventually, he was at my side.
“Do you fancy a drink, or do you want to get out of here?” he said, his eyes fixed on mine.
“Let’s go back to yours,” I said, my earlier resolve coming into play full force.
“Not yours? You want to stop at mine again tonight?”
I leaned forward and pecked his cheek. “You’ve got a bigger bed than me.”
His eyebrows rose and then he smirked. “Let’s go then.”
We quickly vacated the venue and the cold night air wrapped itself around both of us.
Elliot kept his arm around my shoulders as we walked. Eager for feedback about his performance on stage, he sought my approval. I had no idea about stage performance, but I tried to liken it to how I viewed scenes when I filmed them.
“I like the t-shirt,” I said, a grin pulling at my mouth. “Very fitting from what you’ve told me.”
He chuckled. “I nearly wore a different t-shirt tonight, but I think it’s more suitable for you.”
“What word does that have scrawled across it?” I asked, curious.
“Angel,” he replied, all signs of humour gone.
“I’m no angel,” I said, knowing another shade of pink was colouring my cheeks.
“Really? Why not? What deliciously wicked things have you got up to?”
I laughed, trying to recall anything worth telling him, but I struggled. Nothing sprung to mind. I’d never stepped out of line.
“Maybe I’m about to do something deliciously wicked,” I said, suddenly enjoying the tease.
“That I would love to see.”
After the climb up the stairs to Elliot’s flat I slumped onto the sofa.
“Coffee?” Elliot asked, shaking a jar in the air.
“Please,” I replied. “Remember I like it strong.”
“You’ll be up all night,” he said, reaching into a cupboard. “Not that I’d complain if you were.”
I grinned. His flirty responses didn’t worry me. I quite liked his bravado and confidence. It encouraged me to give as good back. Although I was lacking in experience, I’d had plenty of first-hand accounts of sex, my sister had ensured I didn’t miss out on any of her exploits even though I had no desire to hear them. But her continuous taunts had prepared me to respond with cutting remarks and occasional flourishes of mocking humour.
Elliot turned to fill the kettle with water, and I stood and wandered towards him.
“I can get you a glass of wine if you’d prefer,” he said.
“Maybe later,” I replied, stepping closer.
He narrowed his eyes. “Later? Do you have something else you want to do first?”
I dipped my head, suddenly nervous, but managed a slight nod.
“I wonder what that could be.” He leaned forward and lifted his hand to my cheek. I leaned my head sideways, resting against his palm. He rubbed his thumb under my chin and with gentle pressure, lifted my face so I was looking into his eyes. The intensity of their colour reminded me of a forest after a torrential downpour—lush, wild and exciting.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious, very aware of his touch.
He kissed my forehead and pulled me against him, hugging me for several seconds.
In his arms, I felt cherished and safe, but I reminded myself he’d had plenty of women to practice on. With a deep sigh, I ran through my early determination to make tonight the night I committed to sleeping with him and losing my virginity. Again, I reminded myself that I didn’t want a fumble in the dark. I didn’t want inexperienced hands mauling my body. I was confident I’d get neither of those with Elliot. He’d probably have the main light on, spotlights even, and there’d be no inexperienced hands trying to locate parts of my anatomy only I was familiar with. I smiled against Elliot’s shoulder before tilting my head and softly kissing his neck.
Reading my action, Elliot slipped his hand down to my waist and spun us round so I was backed up against the counter. He nudged my chin with his other hand, gently guiding my mouth to his. As he traced the outline of my lips with his own, his tongue pressed at my mouth, and I allowed him the access he sought. He lightly bit my bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth before returning once more to press his lips to mine.
I joined in the dance of his teasing tongue, and pushed my hips forward, pressing against him. I was awakening at his touch, beginning to respond as I knew I would. As his hand twisted in my hair, locking me in place, he deepened the kiss. I could only concentrate on Elliot. His touch, his control, his gentle but firm hold over me.
But when he slid his hands down my body, sneaking them under my top and onto my skin, I realised things were getting out of control.
“Stop,” I gasped.
He immediately did as I asked, removing his hands from under my top.
“I don’t think I can do this, not yet,” I said, mortified at my hesitation. This was all too real. My insecurities and doubts came flooding back.
“I’ll wait.” He smiled at me, his eyes watching mine for a reaction. “I told you I’d wait, and I meant it.”
I smiled nervously back at him. “I’m sorry, I really want to. I, well, I just . . .”
“Shhh . . .” He kissed me again, this time it was tenderly on the lips. His hands entwined with mine. “It’s only natural for you to be nervous when it’s your first time.” He spoke softly and pulled me to him before kissing the top of my head gently. “Don’t be embarrassed.”
His voice was soft, and his body warm and inviting. I tightened my arms around him, desperate to push my nervousness to the side, let my inhibitions drop, let my body guide me.
“I don’t understand any of this,” I mumbled into his t-shirt. “Why are you with me? You could be with any of those girls who watched you perform tonight.”
He leaned away from me, hitting me with the full force of his gaze. “But I don’t want to be with any of those girls. I want to be with you.”
“Elliot, I’m serious. I can’t get my head around any of this, around us. I’m not in the same league as you. You’re experienced, too good looking for your own good. You sing in a band, you have all the girls wanting you. Look at me.”
He sighed and stepped away from me. I instantly missed the contact, his warmth and caress.
“Sit down, Grace.” He gestured to the sofa with an extended arm and pointed finger.
I duly did as he requested.
“Now, first things first.” He positioned himself next to me on the sofa. “You need to stop putting yourself down. You are extremely attractive, intelligent, kind, and you blush beautifully.” He paused and lifted his hand to run his fingertips through my hair. “I see you as the person out of my league. Why do you want to be with someone like me? Why are you even giving me the time of day knowing what you do about my past?” He reached for my hand. “You talk about having no experience as if it’s a curse—I think it’s amazing. It’s something I’ll treasure as much as you do. I’m in no rush to sleep with you, although I really want to.” His devilish grin made a quick appearance. “I’ll take things at your pace, let you dictate what happens. I’m okay with whatever you decide.”
“But for how long? How long before you get bored with me? With waiting? Don’t you want me like that?”
“Grace, please. I’ve told you before, I’d give anything to see your naked body under mine, to see you come undone for the first time, to watch your face as you reach your release.”
I shook my head, embarrassed by the open way he was talking. “Maybe I wouldn’t. First times aren’t meant to be pleasurable.”
He lifted a brow, and grinned. “Are you challenging me, Miss Dupont?”
“No, I’m just saying—”
“Then don’t say it. You will find it pleasurable, I’ll make sure of it.” His grin was replaced by a frown. “But . . . no rush.”
I sucked on the inside of my cheek, debating his claim. My sister had told me that first time sex hurt like a bitch, not that it had stopped her seeking it out from that day onwards.
Elliot shifted from the sofa and headed back to the kitchen.
“Do you want anything to eat?”
“No thanks, I’m fine,” I replied, watching him as he poured the boiling water into mugs. “Kate and I had something to eat earlier.”
He smiled at me, seemingly nervous as he handed me my coffee.
“I need a shower,” he mumbled. “You okay whilst I freshen up?”
I nodded, sipping at my coffee which stung my lips with its heat.
“No peeking,” he teased as he wandered towards the bathroom, already pulling his t-shirt over his head. I drew in a deep breath as I caught sight of his tattoo again. The way it filled his back was stunning, and I knew from close up that each feather on the wing was etched into his skin with intricate detail. It must have hurt like a bitch to have had it done. But maybe that had been what he wanted. To feel the pain, to dull the hurt and guilt he felt about his brother’s death.
Once Elliot was in the bathroom he pulled the door shut, but didn’t lock it, or bother to close it again when it slipped from its catch and parted ever so slightly.
When the sound of running water started, I shook my head and turned away from the door. Alone for a few moments, I took the opportunity to have a proper look around, something I’d not done when I was last here. There were no photographs, no trinkets, no mementoes of his life—just the two guitars, a closed laptop on a desk, and a docking station and speakers on a shelf with a few tatty looking books. A flat screen television nestled in the corner of the room, and next to it was a small amplifier, a smaller version of what I’d seen on stage.
I yawned, covering my mouth with my hand before taking another sip of my drink. I’d not got much sleep lately, Elliot filled too many of my dreams. I rearranged the cushions on the sofa, nestling into them to be more comfortable.
It wasn’t long before the sound of running water stopped. Elliot stepped out of the bathroom rubbing his hair with a towel. He had dressed in low slung lounge pants, but he hadn’t replaced his top.
“Coffee okay?” he asked, grinning as he caught me staring at him.
“Lovely,” I said quietly, undecided whether I was answering his question or commenting on his body. I smiled, hiding my mouth as I took another swig of my coffee.
He strode across the room, slow and confident, before sitting on the sofa. Taking my mug from me, he set it down on the floor and shifted closer. My breathing faltered, any bravado I’d built up earlier deserted me. I was alone, with a half-naked Elliot Sutherland. And tonight, because I’d worked myself up so much about what I wanted to happen tonight, the half-nakedness took on more meaning than it had last week.
“Grace, I have to ask.” He lifted his hand and brushed my hair from my face. “Why did you want to come back to mine tonight?”
“I wanted to spend some time with you,” I said, trying to calm my heightened nervousness. “And I like it here. We don’t get disturbed by nosy housemates, and you do have an enormous bed.”
A small frown appeared above his eyes.
“Let’s get more comfortable,” he said, standing.
I didn’t move. This was it. Once I went into his bedroom tonight, there would be no turning back. I wasn’t a tease—if I wanted to stop this, I had to do it now.
“Grace, stand up. Let me lie down on the sofa.”
“The sofa? Not your bedroom?”
His serious expression changed instantly to one of amusement. “What are you suggesting?”
