Sultry Oblivion by Alexa Padgett
Nash
Somehow I managed not to crush her, even as my breathing remained labored and my vision tunneled. Fuck, that was intense.
I felt wrung out, but in the best way. My muscles were loose, and my head was empty of all but the scent and feel of Aya. I clutched her to me, unwilling to break this moment, break our connection.
She rested her forehead against my collarbone, also struggling to regain her breath. I kept one arm wrapped around her waist as I shifted us so my ass wasn’t hanging off the edge of the cushion. She tilted her head back, and I leaned in—almost as if we’d choreographed this, or been here in this position before. I could only wish, even as I marveled in the soft touch of our lips, the rightness of the connection.
“Aya.” I stopped, unable to think of what I could tell her.
She smiled against my lips. “You’re quite the snuggler. Almost as good as the sexing me up, but definitely sweeter.”
I chuckled as I tightened my hold. “I’m a lot of things with you that I wouldn’t be with others. I need you to know that. Remember it. Because the world just wants its pound of flesh.” I traced the elegant arch of her brow and the soft, smooth plumpness of her lip.
“Would you like to be this way with others?” she asked.
I continued to caress her face. “I don’t think so. It doesn’t feel safe. But you matter to me, Aya. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you how much back then, but it’s always been more than any album or record deal or trust fund.”
Her smile wobbled a little. “I understand,” she murmured. “And I love you, too. More than anything.” She cupped my cheeks and stared into my eyes. “I need you to know that.”
I frowned a little at her intensity, but my stomach rumbled. “Sorry.”
“I’m hungry, too,” she said.
I started to pull away, but she stayed me with her palm to my cheek. “Thank you.”
I swallowed, worry clawing up my chest. “For what?”
“For your patience as I worked through my fears. For loving me.” Mischief lit up her eyes. “And loving me very thoroughly.”
I laughed as I disengaged from her. Then, before she could argue, I swung her up in my arms and strode from the room. I padded down the hall and up the back stairs, ignoring Aya’s whispered demands to be put down, to get her clothes.
“No one’s here and no one’s going to walk in,” I assured her.
She looped her arms around my neck and rested her cheek against my shoulder. “Okay.”
I shouldered open the door to my room and marched us into the large bath. “Let’s get cleaned up. Then, we’ll find something delicious from Chef Steve.”
I set her on her feet in front of the marble shower stall. She began turning on knobs and adjusting the shower heads she wanted, so I went to the small room with the toilet and unrolled the condom.
I dropped it in the trash, wishing I didn’t have to wear one. We’d need to talk about what she was ready for. The rehab center had tested me for STDs, and I was clean. I was pretty sure she was, too, but we’d talk about that, soon.
I smiled as I re-entered the main bathroom and grabbed another condom out of the package I kept in one of the drawers.
Aya was under the rainfall showerhead, water sluicing over her tanned skin. Oh yeah, definitely after a long, long shower.
“You should talk to him.”
Aya and I lay on the couch in the library, which was fast becoming my favorite place in the house. She liked the books, the comfortable furnishings. I liked that I’d fucked her here.
“Talk to who?” I asked.
Jigsaw lay on my chest, purring. Mayet was curled up next to me while Aya snuggled on the other side, her head on my shoulder. This was bliss.
“Steve.”
I tensed.
“Why’d you have to go and ruin my good mood?” I grumbled.
She tickled the underside of Jigsaw’s chin. He shook his head, then yawned.
Aya remained silent.
I gritted my teeth.
“You are so stubborn,” I grumbled.
She batted her eyelashes at me. “And you aren’t?”
“Fuck. I don’t want to do this.”
Concern washed over her features. “Then don’t.”
“I need to talk to him about it—about my mom.” Which I was dreading. “But…I can’t pretend she didn’t abandon me. But if he tells me…” I blew out a harsh breath, though it didn’t dissipate the tension behind my breastbone. I rubbed, wanting to move it.
“I overheard her and Pop Syad one time,” I said.
“It was the night of Lev’s funeral. I was upset, didn’t want to sleep alone.”
“So you went to your mother,” Aya said in a soft voice. “Of course you did.”
“They were too busy glaring at each other, throwing around hurtful comments to notice me.”
“But you remember every word.”
It wasn’t a question. Aya knew I’d kept that conversation close, taken it out and studied it, obsessing over it.
“Mom said she didn’t want new security, but Pop said I needed it, especially now that Lev was gone—that I was his heir and needed to be treated like it. Mom said I needed time to process Lev’s death, to just be. And Pop Syad said I didn’t get that luxury. Mom said he’d never given it to her either. Pop said that’s why Mom had married Brad, and the situation devolved.”
I gazed down at my clasped hands. “Mom kept accusing Pop Syad of trying to control her, manipulate her, bend her to his will.”
“Did he?”
I snorted. “Till the day he died. I’m pretty sure Pop Syad sought Steve out, hoping his presence would cause Mom to fall in line, but Mom refused to let Pop Syad take me to Paris.”
“I was supposed to go to school there—” Aya said.
“Le Academie de Honore?” I asked.
She nodded, eyes wide. “Right. We talked about that. I wouldn’t have remembered the name until you said it. Wow,” she muttered. “They really did—”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Why didn’t you end up in Paris, then?”
“I think Pop gave in to leaving me here when Mom promised she wouldn’t interfere with my new security—that was Steve.” I ran my teeth over my bottom lip, almost chewing on it, until Aya touched her fingers there.
Aya lifted her head and met my gaze. “Did Pop Syad keep her away? Did Brad? Did Steve?”
I shut my eyes. If Aya’s suggestions proved true, I was going to feel even worse—if that was possible. I wasn’t sure I could feel worse about my mother. I stroked her hair with my free hand, letting the gesture soothe us both. I liked the puff of warm breath that hit my neck, reminding me I wasn’t alone.
“I don’t know.”
“But it matters to you. And Steve could tell you.”
I resisted the urge to shrug, not wanting her to move again. Her weight was comforting. “Maybe.”
“Just think about it, okay? That’s all I’m asking.”
“Will you give me an incentive to do so?” I asked.
Aya giggled. “No one would believe you’d been sexually inactive for years.”
I turned to face her, our noses millimeters apart. “I’m making up for lost time.”