The Man I Love (The Fish Tales, #1)(45)

The days passed in quiet productively. The atmosphere around Mallory was subdued, but serene. No one admitted James’s absence, although shocking and tragic, was a relief. Erik kept the penny in his pocket, meaning a dozen times to track down James’s address and mail it, but then forgetting. He and David put in long hours at the shop. Daisy and Will worked hard polishing “The Man I Love” and came home exhausted. Lucky fussed around making healthy dinners and icing sore joints. The air at Jay Street was comfortable and sweet. One night Erik and Daisy lifted their heads out of sleep at the sound of Lucky moaning Will’s name. They smiled at each other, biting back laughter, and laid down again.

Then it was Sunday of tech week, and the stage crew met in the shops at nine in the morning, ready to bring the Who Cares? set up to the stage.

“You’re going to be two heads short,” Leo said, his voice a rasp. ”Hell of a bug is going around.”

“You feel all right?” David said.

“I feel like crap, children.”

“Go home,” Erik said. “We can handle it.”

“You’re short two heads. I’ll get the sets up with you and wire the booms. Then I’ll go home.”

It took three hours to get the New York City skyline arranged to David’s satisfaction. Then they had to hustle to hang the boom stands before the dancers arrived at one o’clock.

Neil Martinez, one of the sick stagehands, dragged himself in around one-thirty. Leo went home. Kees arrived, saying Michael Kantz was sick as well.

“So I’m in charge,” Kees said, looking around at the company. “Are we clear?”

“Of course, darling,” Marie said. “You can be in charge of coffee.”

During the focus session, Erik sat with David in the house, taking notes and making cue sheets, as David discussed the lighting design with Marie. When they were ready for a first run of the ballet, Erik went into the booth to test a few of the cues.

“Hey.”

Erik turned his head. Daisy was coyly peeking around the door.

“Get over here,” he said, tossing his pencil aside. He swiveled in his chair as she bounded into the booth. He pulled her into his lap and drew her down on his chest, letting the seat rock back.

“You look familiar,” she said, tracing his bottom lip with her thumb. “Have we met?”

“I made you come your brains out last night but we weren’t properly introduced, no.”

She laughed, the color rising up into her face.

He pulled her down to kiss him. “Jesus, that was out of control.”

Daisy sat up and moved one of her legs, straddling him in the chair. He put his feet up on the console, leaning back to look at her.

She perched high on his lap, slim and neat in pink tights and her purple leotard with the criss-cross straps. Her dark hair pulled up in a bun, all errant strands and curls secured. Last night it had spilled down her back in tangled waves. He had wrapped its length around his fingers, drawing it aside to run his mouth up her neck, salty sweat and perfume.

“You were incredible,” he said.

“Me? I didn’t do a damn thing, just took what you gave.”

Erik smiled, his eyes far away with memory. He had her down at the corner of the bed, on her stomach while he came into her from behind. He stood over her, holding her wrists crossed in the small of her back. Watching himself slide in and out of her, listening to her come. Then come again. He was completely in control. He was young and on fire. He could go all night.

“Give it to me,” she had said, gasping, pushing back against him, her legs trembling, her back arching and desperate.

“You like that?” he whispered, his voice husky with power.

“I want it. All night long. Every night. The rest of my life, just keep doing that. God, you f*ck me so good…”

The uninhibited language and the raw ache in her voice had made him want to throw back his head and roar like a lion. His grip tightened on her wrists. He held her down and gave her what he had, crazed and consumed, wanting to make her scream the house apart.

He looked at her now, shaking his head. “You were so hot,” he said, running his hands along her legs, kneading the muscles of her thighs. “You have no idea.”

Daisy blushed again, even her ears were red. “I can’t believe some of the shit I was saying.”

“I loved it.” He raked his hands through his hair, looking up at the ceiling, still astonished at how they had stepped off the edge of themselves. Just when he thought they had run the gamut of sexual possibilities, when he was sure the structure was finished, convinced they had come together and connected in every way conceivable…something like last night happened.

You f*ck me so good. It wasn’t a word they typically threw around in bed but the more he threaded it through his mind, the more natural it felt. Not crude or belittling, but truthful in a way he couldn’t quite articulate. Authentic. And safe. Because the night had been raw, but it had still been loving.

Savage tenderness.

Another spire on the cathedral.

“I really was just f*cking you,” he said, leaning on it, seeing if it would still hold weight.

Daisy’s eyes widened and she put her fingers on his lips, laughing and looking over her shoulder to the open door of the booth. “Yes, you were,” she said.