The Secret 05 Ella and Micha: Infinitely and Always (3 page)

Excitement bursts to the surface when he pushes back to undo the button on my jeans.

“Micha, wait.” I pant. “Are we really going to do this?”

“Do what?” He teases me with a cock of his brow as he gradually unzips my jeans.

I kick off my shoes while I gasp for air. “Have sex on a piano.”

He pulls my jeans and panties off, his passionate gaze skimming every inch of my flesh, stifling my eager body with overpowering heat.

“You sound so excited about the idea,” he says as I reach for the top of his pants and unflick the button.

“I’ll take it wherever I can get it.” I sit up and yank his jeans down. “Besides, we can add it to our growing list of strange places we’ve had sex. I think this one might earn the number three spot, right below backstage at a concert, wrapped in the curtain.”

Instead of smiling, his happiness falters. “I promise I’m going to find a way to change all this, pretty girl. You deserve so much better than this.”

Before I can respond, his lips come down hard on mine, scorching hot as he spreads my legs open and slips two fingers deep inside me.

“Micha… I…” My head falls back and my body arches into his touch, fervently seeking more of him.

“You feel so good,” he whispers against my mouth. “God dammit, Ella. I miss this way too much.”

“Me… too…” I trail off. I can barely think straight, let alone form coherent words.

His lips suddenly leave mine, and he leans back to watch as his fingers drive me toward the edge. His free hand finds my nipple and softly pinches, causing sheer bliss to coil and rush through my body. A helpless moan escapes my lips, and his aqua eyes darken to an ocean blue.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous, Ella. I swear to God, I just want to write songs about how you look right now.”

I want to tell him no way, that I don’t want to have the entire world knowing what I look like when I’m about to orgasm, yet I’m too far gone to care. “You can write whatever you want as long as you keep touching me like this.”

His eyes blaze with lust while he continues to feel me from the inside and the out. His mouth lowers to mine again, his tongue urging my lips apart. The scent of him is intoxicating, adding intensity to the moment as my thoughts drift to all the times we’ve spent exactly like this.

I just wish there were more.

So many more.

All my worries swiftly evaporate, though, as something deep inside me shatters. I cry out as I struggle to grasp onto the feeling. Fire. Intensity. Warmth. Heat. I feel it all.

Micha’s mouth is abruptly leaving mine along with his body, and instantly, my body is submersed in coldness. I’m about to beg him to come back to me, but then he grips my thighs and raises my hips as he leans back over me.

With one swift rock, he thrusts deep. The sensation is so intense I forget to breathe and have to fight to remain conscious. My muscles are wound tight, eager to let go. Every part of me pleads to be filled completely as his hips grind against mine, and my back bangs against the piano. The keys noisily chime over our panting, and the sound echoes around us. I’d be worried someone will hear it and come onto the stage to see what’s happening, but I’m way too lost in the feel of Micha on me, inside me, engulfing me.

My fingers pierce his shoulder blades, desperate to clutch on for just a little bit longer, desperate to have just a bit more time with him. But, within a few short minutes, I come way too soon, crying out over the sound of the piano.

Micha soon joins me, kissing me all the way to the end while he gives a final rock inside me. I arch my back at the last second so he can sink even deeper inside, moaning at the pulsating sensation. Micha must love the feeling, too, because he lets out the loudest, slowest, most savoring groan I’ve ever heard leave his lips.

“That was…” He gasps for oxygen as he stares intently into my eyes.

“Fucking awesome,” I finish for him, pressing my sweaty chest to his, not ready for him to leave me just yet.

The corners of his lips quirk. “Stole the words right out of my mouth, pretty girl.”

I smile, tired yet content. “I just wish I didn’t have to fly out tonight.”

His expression plummets, and he jerks back. “I thought you were staying with me for the weekend?”

“I was, but then the gallery decided to have a last minute show, and I don’t want Gena there by herself, trying to handle everything.” I reach up and try to brush away the lines between his brows, but my touch only deepens the sadness etching his face. “I thought I mentioned it on the phone the other day.”

“You might have.” He backs away from me and collects his boxers from the floor. “I’ve been really distracted lately and might not have heard you or something.”

He slips his boxers and jeans back on while I pick up my pants and shirt from the floor. We finish getting dressed in silence, the elation I felt when I landed earlier slipping farther and farther away.

“I’m going to fix this,” he mumbles as I’m buttoning my shirt.

“Fix what?” When I glance up at him, the fierceness in his eyes causes me to shrink back.

“This distance between us.” He yanks his shirt over his head and gestures between us. “Things are going to change. I promise.” He pauses, and then his lips curve to a smile. “In fact, I want to make a pact. Right here. Right now.”

“Aren’t we a little too old for pacts?” I ask as I wiggle my foot into my boot.

He shakes his head. “We’ll never be too old for pacts.
Ever
.”

A faint smile graces my lips as I tie my boot. “So what’s the pact going to be this time, my dear husband?” I ask as I stand back upright.

His eyes raise to the ceiling as he considers something, then his gaze falls back on me. He raises his hand to his mouth and spits into his palm. “In two months, I won’t be on the road anymore. I’ll be working my job in San Diego only and be living with you all the damn time, like I dream about every night. Infinitely and always.”

“Two months? That seems like a really short time to make that plan happen.”

“Yeah, but I can’t stand it any longer. Two months is my time limit before I go crazy.” He extends his hand to me, waiting for me to spit and shake on it.

Even though I’m skeptical, I spit into my palm and thread my fingers through his. “Okay, Micha Scott, you have a deal.”

His eyes light up like they used to every Fourth of July when his mom would set off fireworks. “See you in two months?”

I nod, my grip on his hand tightening. “See you in two months.” I lean in and press my lips to his, sealing the deal with a kiss.

Two Months Later…

Ella

My bed in my San Diego home feels cold and empty. It’s felt this way for a while but has gotten worse over the last two months while Micha’s been on the road, finishing up his tour. It’s as if my body suddenly craves more of him, like it finally realizes just how starved it’s been for Micha’s touch and warmth.

For the first few years, I used to travel with him. Some of my best moments happened during those trips, and I created some of my best art. But, after opening up my own gallery, I had to sit the last few tours out to keep on top of business. And, quite honestly, I like my life. But I can’t wait until tonight when the bed will be warm again. Because, Micha plays his final tour performance in San Diego tonight, and then he’s home to keep the bed warm with me again.

I’m not sure how long he’ll be here this time. He hasn’t mentioned anything yet about whether or not he will be able to pull the pact off. I highly doubt it. When he made the vow to both of us back on the stage, I knew his words were based on his emotions and not reality. The reality is that he’s a singer. That he loves making music. Loves what he does, despite missing me. What’s more, in order to keep doing what he loves, he has to make his label and producer happy, which means conforming when he needs to. I only hope one day down the road things can change for him.

I sigh as I think of the many years ahead of me where the bed will remain cold and empty. Where crazy fans will pull my hair and threaten me. Where I miss him so much it hurts.

My thoughts start sinking to a dark place, but I instantly force them out of my head. No, I’m not going to fixate on depressing stuff today. Just one more day is all I have to make it through before I get to wake up with Micha, one of my favorite things about being married. Well, that and the kissing. Secret sharing. Unconditional love.

Okay, maybe there are a lot of things I love about being married.

That and Micha has kind of turned me into a sap over the last five years.

My plans for the day are to sleep in as late as possible to pass the time until I have to head down to The Bronze Key to watch Micha play. But, as the sun rises over the city, my phone begins vibrating from my nightstand, forcing me to wake up.

I sit up in the bed and reach for my phone. “Hello?” I answer, rubbing the sleepiness from my eyes.

“What are you doing?” My friend, Lila Summers, practically shouts from the other end. I know her well enough to understand that the urgency in her tone could be exaggerated.

“Not much.” I glance at the antique clock on the wall as I stretch my hands above my head. Dammit.
It’s only a little after nine in the morning. I wanted to sleep in so much later.
“But what are you doing calling me so early?”

“Because I have an emergency.”

My body goes as rigid as a board while worry seeps into my bones. “Is everything okay? You sound like you’re flipping out.”

“That’s because I am.” She lets out a disgruntled sigh. “Ethan’s been acting weird lately.”

Shaking my head, I instantly relax. “Lila, he always acts weird.”

“Ella,” she huffs, “this is important. He’s acting like… well, like he’s going to break up with me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“How? How can you not doubt it when I can?”

“Um, because he’s totally in love with you.” I swing my feet out of bed and plant them firmly onto the hardwood floor. “Has been for years.”

“Yeah, but…” She trails off. I know where her mind is heading. The fact that they aren’t married after five years of being together bothers the crap out of Lila. “I just wish we were husband and wife. It would make the fear of him leaving me a lot less intense.”

“Husbands leave wives all the time. Having a ring on your finger doesn’t make feelings change. If he was going to leave you, he would, regardless. It’s the same way with anyone, really.” I rise to my feet and pad over to the curtains, throwing them open.

The floor to ceiling windows allow an abundance of sunshine inside my bedroom and give me the most awesome view of the city. I remember when Micha and I bought the two-story home after his songs really started selling. It was the view that won me over. For Micha, it was the large, “sex-worthy” bathtub in the master bathroom.

“Jeez, Ella, you never sugarcoat anything,” Lila says with a heavy sigh.

“Sorry. My head just went to a really weird place.” I push open the double doors and walk out onto the balcony.

The winter air kisses my damp skin as I rest my arms on the railing and gaze at the clear blue sky. I’m not sure why, but I’ve been overheating lately, especially in the mornings. While most people are in jackets, I usually sport shorts and get a lot of strange looks because of it. It’s actually starting to concern me a little that maybe something might be wrong.

“A mom place?” Lila asks concernedly, interrupting my overheating concerns.

“No, not really. It’s strange, but mom thoughts have been pretty mellow for the last year or so, even around the holidays and summer.”

“That’s good. It probably means you’re healed.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. It just means I’ve come to terms with what is.”

“You sound so wise,” she remarks. “Seriously, Ella, I’m so proud of you. I wish I could let all my family shit go.”

“You can,” I tell her as I shut my eyes and breathe in the fresh air. “All you have to do is accept what is and let go.”

“You mean stop talking to my parents? Because I kind of have.”

I open my eyes. “I know, but you haven’t fully let go.”

“I’m working on it. It’s just hard with the inheritance. It was my mother’s mom who left it to me, and therefore, she thinks she’s entitled to occasionally call me up and see what I’m doing.”

“You could always stop answering the phone.” I turn around and lean against the railing.

“Yeah, I probably should.” She releases a stressed breath. “Okay, no more family talk. I called to chat about Ethan, not my crazy bitch of a mother. I just wish he’d change his mind about marriage, like you did.”

“Hey, I never was completely against marriage,” I argue. “Just getting that fully committed to someone.”

“His isn’t because of a commitment thing; he just doesn’t want to turn into his parents.”

“Which I can kind of understand, seeing as how I worried for years that I’d end up like my mother.” I pause, glancing at the next door neighbor’s two-story home. “Can I be really honest with you?”

“You know I prefer it that way.”

“Even if it stings?”

“Of course. If I didn’t want the truth, I would have never called you.”

I sink into a chair and spit it out. “The thing is, with as long as Ethan has dragged out this non-marriage idea, I’m kind of starting to believe that his mind may never change. Maybe he will remain unmarried for his entire life.” I bite down on my lip as I wait for her response. She’s silent for an eternity, and I worry I’ve said the wrong thing.

“I know,” she finally utters. “I think I’ve known that for a few years. I’m just too terrified to accept it.”

“And that’s understandable.” I rise to my feet when I hear the neighbor’s sliding glass door open. Moments later, Lila strolls out of the two-story house similar to mine and onto the deck that stretches out across the backyard. Our homes are so close, if we both extended our arms, we could hold hands.

Ethan and Lila moved in less than a year ago after Lila received her inheritance. Lila is content with staying at home most of the time, but Ethan had to find a job; otherwise, “he’d go mad crazy.” He ended up opening his own tour guide place with Lila’s help, and the two of them seem really happy except for the marriage thing.

“You know, you could have just come over,” I call out to her, hanging up the phone.

“I wasn’t sure if you were awake.” She pulls her long, blonde hair up into a messy bun then pads over to the edge of the balcony. She ties the sash of her satin robe, and rests her arms against the wooden railing. “Tell me what to do, Ella. I need to know what to do.”

I frown. “I’m probably one of the worst people to give advice.”

She swiftly shakes her head. “No, you’re not. You only think you are.”

“Yes, I am.” I offer an apologetic look when her mood plunges. “Sorry, but even if I was the most spectacular person in the world to give advice, it’s really about what you want. Either you can accept that you might just be Ethan’s girlfriend for forever and come to terms with that or you can’t and move on.”

Her shoulders sag. “I want to be okay with it. I mean, we’re basically like husband and wife. We’re even trying to have kids and everything.”

My lips part in shock. “Since when?!”

She shrugs. “For, like, the last year.”

I span my hands out to the side. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

She snorts a laugh. “You, the queen of ‘I Never Want to Be a Mother.’ Yeah, I learned a long time ago that kid talk and you just don’t mix.”

I point a finger at her. “Hey, I’m not that bad anymore.”

She undecidedly wavers. “All right, I’ll give you that. But you still get really squimish over anything kid related.”

“True, but I did hold your sister’s baby the other day without getting too wigged out. And I talk with Caroline about her pregnancy on the phone all the time. In fact, I helped her plan how to surprise Dean with the news. I don’t really get why there’s a need to surprise a husband with the news that he’s procreated, but hey, whatever floats her boat.”

She stares me down. “Okay, yes, I’ll give it to you that you’ve kind of evolved. But I bet you’re getting uncomfortable just talking about it right now.”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “Okay, Mrs. Calm, how about if I ask you when you and Micha are going to have your own kids.”

I suddenly grow extremely uncomfortable. I usually am when it comes to thinking about having kids of my own. “Fine, you win that one. But, seriously, that was a low blow.”

“What can I say? I know how to kick you where it counts.” She smiles, but it’s forced.

I glance back at my house, racking my brain for a way to cheer her up because it’s my friend duty to do so. As my gaze lands on my closet, an idea sparkles.

“I have an idea that will maybe clear your head.” I look back at her and grin.

She perks up, her posture straightening. “And what’s your idea? Please tell me it’s something epically fun because I need epically fun.”

“Well, I need a new outfit for the concert tonight if you’re interested in helping me find one.”

“Wow. You must really feel sorry for me if you’re suggesting we go shopping.” A grin lights up her face and it almost makes the next four hours of store time less painful to endure. “Meet me down at the car in like thirty?”

I nod as I back toward the door. “But we have to stop for coffee.”

She opens the back door to her house. “Of course. An Ella with no caffeine is never fun.”

Smiling, I retreat inside my bedroom and shut the door behind me. The inside of my house is almost as equally beautiful as the view of the city. Filled with antique furniture and art, the walls and rooms have character. The hardwood floors look purposefully old, and the walls are painted in various different colors that breathe life into the place. My favorite room is the attic, though, because it’s where I create my art.

After I take a quick shower, I pull on a pair of denim shorts and a black shirt then apply some kohl liner around my eyes. Right on cue, a spout of nausea slams against my stomach as I’m brushing my long, auburn hair.

“Shit.” I drop to my knees in front of the toilet. Since I haven’t had breakfast yet, I end up dry heaving for about a minute before my stomach settles, and I stumble to my feet again.

Dammit. This shit is getting really old. Between the overheating and the vomiting, I think it might be time to go to the doctor to make sure something’s not wrong.

I reapply my makeup then change into a fresh shirt before heading out of the house. The sun is gleaming in the sky, the air smells like cut grass, and my neighbor, Mrs. Flicking, waves to me as I round the fence to Lila’s driveway.