Sultry Oblivion by Alexa Padgett
Nash
The night proved the best and most uncomfortable of my life. I held Aya snuggled against me. Her soft breath bathing my neck and chest relaxed me fully, and I fell into a deep, dreamless abyss—until I moved my swollen and bruised hand, anyway.
I glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was after five in the morning. I never slept so many hours in a row.
My hand throbbed, but my body remained content, my mind charged and ready to face what lay ahead. I curled my good hand around Aya, still shocked she’d relented to sleeping with me.
She belonged in my bed. She always had. Now I just had to ensure she stayed here, with me.
That might prove tricky. She had a life, a career. I realized she might not be able to stay with me. I’d be a selfish ass if I asked her to uproot her life just so I could continue to record and tour.
There must be a solution, especially considering the financial resources and influence she and I possessed. We just needed time to tease it out.
I rolled onto my back, tugging her close as I went back over our conversation from last night.
The continuity of my memory since I’d gone to rehab shocked me. For so long, I’d lived with a perforated snapshot of my days. Now, being able to go over each and every moment, to relish the tiny details, seemed odd. Refreshing, but unusual.
Aya’s tortured expression was where I fixated. I never wanted to see that look on her face again, and I definitely didn’t want to be the reason for it. This meant honesty about everything, even the hard shit. That would be the only way to keep her around.
I ran my fingers through her hair, enjoying the faint, familiar scent of her shampoo and the weighty softness.
“That feels good,” she murmured. “Don’t stop.”
“Whatever you want.”
She climbed atop my chest, stacking her palms on my left pec and meeting my gaze. “Whatever?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Careful there, big daddy. You don’t know what I’ll ask for.”
Warmth settled in my chest. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll give it to you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Your platinum records.”
“Yours.”
Both eyebrows went up. “This house? Your money? The awesome tour bus I know you must have somewhere?”
I threaded my fingers at the nape of her neck, pinning her to me. “Yours.”
She scoffed.
“You don’t get it, Aya. I’ve been a zombie for years.”
She dropped her gaze. “I stopped making friends, stopped connecting with people. They call me the Ice Queen.”
“You’re not icy or cold, Ay. You survived. My therapist said that takes more guts than giving in or getting high. Survival is what we do until we’re ready to heal. And we only heal when we feel safe.”
I petted her hair, loving how the warm strands wrapped around my fingers. “I’ll give you anything, everything—whatever you want. Just stay with me.” I leaned up, using my abdominal muscles to hold me as I brushed my lips over hers. It was a soft, sweet kiss. A question, a request.
She sealed her mouth over mine with enough force to allow me to lower back to the pillow. Then she took over, her tongue sliding past my lips. Again and again, she mated her tongue to mine, stoking a fire within me. We broke apart, gasping.
“I like kissing you,” she murmured, resting her chin on my chest.
I ran my fingers through her hair, careful not to tug too hard. “Same.”
“Why did you choose to move to Barton Creek?”
“Austin’s my home, and after traveling so much for so long, I needed low-key. This place, this city—it’s real, Ay. It’s alive and fresh and smells like...like earth and trees and life.”
She nodded, absorbed in some memory. “I missed it, too. This is where I want to be.”
She blinked away whatever worried her, her gaze flashing to mine. Ah, no, she was trying hard not to fall back into the rabbit hole of our miscommunication and the breakdown of our relationship. I appreciated the gesture. I wasn’t as exhausted as I’d been last night, but I wasn’t ready to go another round through the emotional minefield.
“When did you move here?” she asked.
“I bought the place about five months ago. Bridger wanted to stay in Seattle, but thankfully, Jax hated the gray skies, too. So we decided to set up base here. We’ll still do some of our recording in Seattle, but Cam has a sweet setup near his place.”
“I remember.”
“Right. Never got you into that studio. Anyway, either we can travel up to Seattle to meet with Asher and finalize songs, or he can come here. And…well, I feel solid. I need the sunshine, heat.”
“I get that. I’ve always found England depressing.”
Silence grew between us.
“What do you think it would have been like? If I’d stayed?” she asked.
I sighed. “Much as I hate to say it, I would have fucked up something else, and you still would have left. I think, as bad as it was, I needed to work through my parents’ divorce, my mother…” I swallowed. Still things I needed to work through there. “And then, my grandfather. It wasn’t pretty, not any of that, and I’m not proud of how I handled it.”
“I’m sorry about your parents, Nash,” she whispered. “And Pop Syad. I liked him, even though he was kind of tyrannical.”
“He was an overbearing dick, and I miss him.”
She shifted, restless, her eyes darkening. “I should have written and told you so.”
I shook my head. “Let’s not rehash the past again. It’s over. And more importantly, I’ve been wracking my brain for how to get more time with you moving forward.”
“Well, as I’m currently unemployed, you can have as much of my time as you’d like.”
I frowned. “What?”
She sighed, her gaze dropping to my chest where she swirled a pattern through the hair with her forefinger. “My father had his friend—the owner of the company I worked for—sack me.”
Everything in me stilled.
“He said he’d get me back my job if I promised to marry Alistair.”
I tightened my hold on her waist with my good hand.
“Do you want it back? We can fight—”
“No.” She sighed. “It’s not worth the emotion.” She bit her lip. “I’m not committed to electric vehicles.” She shook her head. “I love building things, but the work at these places—none of it excited me. I just…I don’t know.” She flopped on her back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Most people would want to get back what was taken from them.”
She shrugged. “It’s not that I’m without ambition.” She sighed. “I need to feel connected to something.”
“I can understand that. I needed music more after you…” The unspoken words pulsed between us. “We’ll have to figure out what you’re passionate about. I’ll make it my quest,” I said, filling the silence before it turned heavy with pain and recrimination.
Her smile lit up the room and filled the hollow place in my chest. “Maybe we could start that quest with some breakfast?”
I smirked. Aya remained an early riser who preferred a large meal soon after waking. Good to know some things hadn’t changed. Just as I’m sure she remembered I was more than willing to forego any large meal and graze on snacks.
“What’s your pleasure?” I asked.
She bit her lip, her eyes darkening as she took in my bare chest. Her heated look caused my breathing to shallow.
“How about huevos rancheros con chorizo? I haven’t had that in years.” She made a humming noise in the back of her throat, eyes alight.
“I’m sure Steve can whip that up.”
She frowned. “Steve’s here?”
“He is.” I cleared my throat. “He’s my biological father.” I shrugged, though a bubble seemed lodged behind my ribs, not growing, not moving…just stuck. My relationship with Steve was one of the details in my life I needed to fix.
She reared back, eyes wide. “Steve? And your mom?” She opened her mouth, shut it. Then shook her head. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“I had this weird feeling after he learned about the music. You know, the songs in my head. He kept asking me questions about that.”
A wrinkle tugged at her brows. “He did, didn’t he?”
“But it was Brad who told me Steve had an affair with my mom.”
Aya pursed her lips. “Let me guess: that night.” She tilted her head to the side. “A lot happened to us in twenty-four hours.”
“Yeah, it did.”
She shook her head. “Tell me about Steve.”
“We had a falling out around the time I went into rehab. Well, that was the second falling out. We’ve been talking since he came to visit me during my last week there, and he stays in the guesthouse out back. He’s taken on chef duties—”
“Because you still can’t boil water?” Aya asked with a giggle.
“I can make you a cup of tea.”
“Fair point. But who is he to you?”
“He’s Steve. I know he’s my dad, but that’s as far as we’ve gotten.”
Aya rose up over me and dropped a soft kiss to my lips. The added benefit was her pelvis now aligned with mine. I wanted to grip her hips and grind my engorged, aching dick against her softness, but I wasn’t sure exactly where we stood. And I definitely didn’t want to mess up this fragile second chance with a quick screw—no matter how good it would feel. And it would feel amazing.
I groaned, my fingers tightening on her hips, pressing into the taut muscle of her ass.
“As nice as sex would be, I’m not sure I’m ready…” Her eyes were wide, filled with both trepidation and desire. The concern overpowered the lust.
“You don’t have to apologize…”
“I’m really hungry,” she said after a moment. “Like languishing. I didn’t eat yesterday because I was nervous.” She rolled off me and darted toward the bathroom.
I stacked my good arm behind my head, pillowing my head against my elbow. “Just so you know, I’m going to fantasize about washing your delectable body,” I called.
She stuck her head out, the toothbrush I’d given her last night in her mouth and white foam blossoming across her lips. “After I eat, we’ll talk about you doing that sometime,” she managed to get out around the toothbrush.
I chuckled. Already I felt more energized and happier than I could remember—even if sexually frustrated. I shifted my hips, seeking a release that wouldn’t come, not without Aya’s warm heat surrounding me. But I was content to sit with it for now.