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“I drink mine black,” he says apologetically.
“It’s fine.”
“I’m just playing devil’s advocate.” He leans against the kitchen counter, his long legs kicked out in front of him, bare feet against the wood flooring. “I’ve been witness to a lot of shitty situations, and nothing is ever black and white.”
I soften a little, realizing I may be letting my emotions get the best of me. Placing my cup on the counter next to him, I let my forehead fall against his chest, circling my arms around his waist.
“Is there still time for me to become a stripper?” I laugh.
“Only if you strip just for me,” he teases.
“Name the time and place, Mr. Morgan,” I answer with a smirk, and Cash groans out loud.
35
NO UNDERWEAR, NO SERVICE
SASHA
Since I’ve Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin
Isit up in bed,Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenanceresting on my lap. I find out it’s not really about repairing a motorcycle, but about life lessons and the secret to fulfillment. Cash sits beside me, flipping through the pages ofRedemption Song. I would think that since he is around music all day, he wouldn’t want to read about it too, but he does. It’s what he loves, which makes me sad that he doesn’t play anymore, because I would love to hear him.
We lay in bed until our coffees get cold, and then we lounge around some more as if there is no tomorrow. When my stomach grumbles, Cash fixes eggs and bacon. The sight of him in the kitchen cooking for me is unbelievably sexy. I feel taken care of in a way that doesn’t negate my own capabilities. We share a plate and feed each other until I’m stuffed and sleepy.
The sun filters through the window and the shadows get longer. When I wake from a nap, Cash is staring down at me with a look in his eyes that makes my stomach flutter.
“How long was I asleep?” I ask him.
“Not long.” He pulls me close, and I lay half my body across his, my hair spilling over his chest, and he runs his hand through it.
We lay like this for a long time; his fingers tracing patterns over my skin while I listen to his heartbeat. This is my midnight kiss that never ends.
“Why do you live above the store?” I ask.
He lets out a breath. “I moved in here after I got divorced.”
He runs his hand over my hair, pulling the tangled pieces through his fingers. “It was supposed to be temporary until I found another place, but then months turned into years, and here I am,” he says softly.
“I like it,” I tell him. “It smells like you.”
“What does it smell like?” he asks.
“Mostly old records and the ocean, but sometimes like gasoline and leather.”
His chest rumbles under me and then he’s quiet again. My head moves with the cadence of his breathing. I lift up to look at him, resting my chin to my forearms on his chest. His head is tipped back, his eyes closed, and he looks so relaxed. “Will you play the guitar for me?”
His lips curl into a smile. “I thought I already did,” he says without opening his eyes, placing a hand to my head, stroking my hair again.
I tap my finger on his chest to get his attention. “I want you to play me something.”
He opens one eye and then the other. I think he’s going to tell me no, but he slowly extricates himself from me and walks over to the record player, pulling the needle up. His joggers sit low on his hips and his body is long and lean; beautiful and powerful. His stomach muscles tighten as he reaches to pick up the guitar.
Gently placing it against his body, he sits in the chair opposite me, taking a moment to tune it as if he hasn’t played it in a long time. My eyes take in the muscles of his forearms as he strums the guitar, slow and deliberate. His eyes flick up to look at me and the intensity is striking.
His bare foot taps gently against the wood flooring, and as if he slips into a dream, he closes his eyes. I lay on my stomach, kicking my feet behind me, not recognizing the tune but somehow feeling its importance.
The way he plays is captivating. His fingers work the strings the same way he works my body, with gentleness and care, but when the note calls for it, rough and unhinged. I watch his arms flex and this mouth twist, as if it will help him hit the right chord. It’s completely endearing.
