Burn Me Once

Though he is. I know that.

But like this, right here, he is mine.

And I am his.

The thought rattles through me as though I am an empty barn and it is tumbleweed. It rocks me to my core.

I am no one’s.

I stiffen beneath him and press my fingers into his chest. I angle my head away.

‘You are fucking amazing,’ he says. ‘This is amazing.’

‘It’s not me,’ I say seriously.

‘I think it must be.’

He kisses the tip of my nose and my gut twists. I must flee from this tempting perfection before it sucks me under and robs me of breath and sanity altogether.

‘I should go.’

His laugh is husky. ‘I’m still inside you.’

He throbs and my breath catches in my throat. Heat suffuses my cheeks.

‘I know.’ With great effort I make my voice light. Amused.

‘You’re not going anywhere.’

He pulls away from me, though, straightening and then standing, striding through the hotel room towards the bathroom. I watch him go, my eyes hungrily devouring this aspect of him—his beautiful, naked body.

He emerges a minute later, a towel wrapped low around his waist. He strides to the phone and picks it up. ‘Ethan Ash. Give me Room Service.’

I prop myself on my elbows, knowing I should make an effort to get dressed, but enjoying watching him too much. I’ll move soon, I tell myself.

He turns to face me; our eyes lock. I am lost once more. I can feel him inside me even though he is across the room. The phantom of his being with me is a powerful, beautiful thing.

‘Fillet steak. Fries. Onion rings. A salad.’ He lifts a brow questioningly and covers the receiver. ‘Anything else?’

I shake my head.

‘Ice cream. Some oysters. Maybe some garlic bread. A peach.’

He winks at me, then hangs up as he strides over to me. He stares at me for a heart-thumping second, his expression unreadable, and then he drops his hands down, inviting me to grab them.

I know it’s not wise, but I put my hands in his as if on autopilot and he pulls me up to stand. Our bodies press to one another. My breath catches.

‘I’ve missed you.’

My heart drops.

He can’t have missed me. It’s not what we are.

I smile, but I know it’s only half a smile. I’m too perturbed, confused, concerned, to be properly amused.

‘I want to ask you something.’

I don’t think my look is encouraging, but apparently he doesn’t notice. He begins to sing again. His latest song. The one that is on all the radio stations—everywhere. His latest song that is a number one hit.

God, he’s so famous.

And yet we speak as though it doesn’t matter.

‘Yeah?’ It’s a hoarse prompt.

‘I’m doing a gig Friday night. Wanna come?’

It takes several seconds for me to connect the words with the truth. The fact that by ‘doing a gig’ he means performing at a concert. And not a little local town hall concert either.

‘Where?’ I ask with a sinking heart.

‘The Garden.’

‘Madison Square Garden?’

He nods.

He’ll be performing for tens of thousands of people. On Friday night. When I would usually be at happy hour with my two best friends.

‘That’s okay,’ I say, not quite sure how to reply properly. ‘I’m good.’

‘I know you’re good,’ he responds with a wry twist of his lips. ‘I’m asking if you want to come to the concert.’

I bite down on my lip and decide honesty is the best policy. ‘Will you be offended if I say no?’

He laughs. ‘No. My ego isn’t that fragile. I’m curious, though.’

Naturally. ‘It’s just...’ How can I put into words what I don’t fully understand myself?

‘You don’t like my music?’ he teases.

‘Can’t stand it,’ I quip back.

His smile makes my stomach lurch. ‘I just...’

‘Yes?’

His lips are twitching at the corners, showing his amusement even as he tries to listen seriously to whatever wisdom I’m about to share.

‘I don’t know. I mean... I just... First of all, I don’t see you like that. I know you’re some superstar, but I like it that this feels so normal.’ I pause. ‘I mean apart from the luxurious apartment, the mega-mansion at the heart of the village and your penchant for ordering everything off the room service menu.’