Rock Chick Reckoning(69)

Shitsofuckit!

What was I thinking?

When was I going to start thinking?

“You okay?” he asked softly.

I nodded my head.

His hand drifted to my bandage, his fingers running His hand drifted to my bandage, his fingers running whisper-soft along its edges.

“I hurt you?”

I shook my head.

His arm wrapped around my middle again.

My mind was racing to form a plan to get me out of my newest muddle. I mean, I was angry at him. He told my now ex-boyfriend he’d f**ked me, doing it with a frankness that was just not nice, for Eric or for me. He wasn’t listening to me when I told him we weren’t together and he didn’t leave when I kicked him out.

This couldn’t go on.

Of course, I was lying with him in my bed, a bed I joined him in last night without a peep, a bed where I was lying, my panties at my knees, Mace stil inside me.

Perhaps I was giving him mixed signals.

Ya think? My brain asked.

“Babe?” he cal ed.

“What?” I replied, having stil not formed a plan.

“What’s with black?” he asked.

This question confused me and I forgot al about forming a plan.

“Excuse me?”

“Your songs. ‘Blackbird’, ‘Black Water’, ‘Black Velvet’,

‘Black Betty’, a lot of the songs you sing have the word

‘black’.”

His question surprised me. He’d never asked me anything personal and he’d definitely never asked about my music, the most personal thing of al .

I knew he enjoyed it. He came to a lot of my gigs, I saw him standing in the dark, fingers around the neck of a beer bottle, his eyes on me and only me. And, just like last night, when we were at my place, even if he was doing something, on a phone cal , reading a book, if I started to play he’d always stop and watch and, I knew, he’d listen and I knew further, he liked it.

After he came to a gig, we had the best sex ever (which put our sex off-the-charts) because I was high from the gig and, I suspected, so was he.

Any time I played when we were alone, after I’d finish, he’d make love to me. I knew it was that because it was sweeter, slower, less energetic, al about giving, always about Mace giving to me.

“I don’t know,” I answered.

His arm tightened. “Tel me.”

I sighed and tilted my chin forward. His head came with me. I could feel his breath on my neck.

I didn’t want to get into this with him. It was none of his business.