Lukas (Ashes & Embers 3)

The stage is dark and quiet for a few moments, and then a violin starts to play a few soft notes in the dark. Suddenly, a blue spotlight shines down on one member on the right side of the dark stage, holding the violin, moving the bow softly over the strings, the sound haunting and beautiful.

It takes me a few stunned moments to realize it’s Lukas glowing under the blue light like an ethereal angel, his eyes closed as he plays the slow intro of the song. He looks incredible up there on stage, and the way his arm muscles flex as he plays is making all the women drool. Including me.

A purple spotlight shines down and lights up Storm, who’s sitting on a stool center stage, holding his guitar, and he starts to sing a beautiful love song. Storm’s voice coupled with the lonely, romantic sound of the violin is mind blowing. I can’t take my eyes off of Lukas. He is so beautiful, oozing sensuality and confidence, the music flowing from him like he was born with that violin in his hand.

I grab Evie’s hand under the table, and we hold on to each other, bonding as we watch the men we’re falling in love with on stage, knowing we’re never gonna be the same after this. I recall Lukas’ words about trying to make us fall in love with them. How could we not?

I can’t believe Lukas never told me he plays, or that he would be playing tonight. I wonder if he’s actually a full time member of the band. I have to admit, I’m getting turned on watching him up there, the way his head is bent down, his hair falling over his face and over his shoulders, his arms and chest flexing as he plays that beautiful instrument. He’s a dazzling mix of dark goth, adorable, and classical, all rolled up in a damn fine sexy ball.

Oh, shit. Am I really dating a twenty-four year old tattoo artist who’s also a rock star? How did this happen? I’m just a boring, plain, human resources manager. Lukas is way out of my league.

The next song they play is heavier, and the rest of the band joins in as the lights brighten and fog wafts across the stage. I watch as Lukas saunters around the stage, adding some fast metal solos, shaking his head with sexy attitude as the bow flies over the strings of the violin. Hot does even begin to describe him. I’ve never seen anyone play a violin so fast and hard before. The audience is going wild over him, forcing me to tear my eyes off him and shift my eyes over to see the crowd of gorgeous women trying to get closer to the stage, gawking at both Storm and Lukas, reaching for their legs and taking pictures.

So not only does he have half-naked, beautiful women sprawled out in front of him at the tattoo shop all day, but he’s most likely got fans of the band after him, too. I swallow hard, a myriad of fears and insecurities swirling inside me.

If a pretty girl was able to swoop in and take my average-looking, office-working husband from me, how in the hell could I hold on to someone like Lukas?

The band takes a break, and Lukas jumps down off the stage and pushes his way through the pile of women pawing at him to get back to our table. I try to swallow my jealousy down. He only smiled at them. He didn’t stop to talk to anyone or let anyone flirt with him. He’s not a man-slut. He’s all smiles when he approaches the table, his hair sticking to his damp forehead.

“Well?” he asks, out of breath, the adrenaline obviously still thrumming through his veins. I hand him my glass of water, and he gulps some down.

“Lukas, that was amazing!” Amy screeches before I can even open my mouth. “Holy shit, you rocked it!”

“Thanks, it was fun.” He smiles at her and then turns his attention back to me. “You’re not saying anything,” he says, sitting and pulling my chair closer to his, trying to catch his breath at the same time. “Those lights are fuckin’ hot.”

I force a smile onto my face, still not sure how I feel about all of this. “I’m just surprised . . . I had no idea you played the violin . . .”

“And the piano,” he adds, grinning.

“And the piano,” I repeat, “ . . . in a rock band. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He looks around at the crowd and then back at me. “I was afraid it might scare you away. And I kinda wanted to surprise you.”

“You definitely surprised me. It was awesome, though. Going from that slow beautiful classical tune, then to metal was just incredible. I loved it.” I lean a little closer to him and lower my voice. “You looked really sexy up there strutting around.”

“Oh yeah?” He quirks his eyebrow up. “Did it turn you on?”

“Lukas . . .” I look around the table to see if anyone is listening to us.

He touches my cheek and turns me back to him. “Hey, don’t try to back pedal into shyness.”

“You’re so bad.” His teasing has become a sweet addiction for me. “You love to make me crazy.”

“You have no idea how bad I want to make you crazy, Ivy.” His gravelly voice caresses my senses, and I squeeze my thighs together. Verbal foreplay is something I’ve never experienced before, but wow, does he make it work.

He clears his throat. “I want you to know, I only play the intros and solos on a few songs. I don’t go on tour with the band or go to all the practices. I only play some of the local clubs with them.” He looks me dead in the eye. “My commitment is to the shop. And you.”

“Oh,” I say, shocked by his words. “Me?”

“Yes, you . . . I don’t want a fling, Ivy.” I love his serious voice. It’s deep, calming, and permanent. He doesn’t ever lie or say something he doesn’t mean, and I admire that about him more than anything else.

“I don’t either,” I answer, hoping he can feel that I mean my words just as much as he does.

We stay for the rest of the set, and when the last song is played, he nuzzles into my neck and whispers in my ear, “Let’s go. I need to be alone with you.”

He’s like wildfire on the drive back to his place, playing metal music on the radio and tapping his hands on the wheel. It’s obvious the music really gets him going and makes him feel alive. I don’t mind because I’m still replaying the night in my mind, trying to sort out my feelings; who he is, and what he does, makes me nervous. His work, his hobbies, and his passions all put him directly in front of women who want the novelty of a man like him. Sexy. Unique. Talented. Popular. Creative. Romantic.

Af

ter losing my husband to another woman’s shameless sluttery, giving my heart to a man who has a target on his body and heart by probably several hundred women scares the ever loving shit out of me. Could I deal with it without feeling paranoid all the time?

On the other hand, I’m extremely drawn to those unique aspects that make him so special. Watching him on stage and hearing his music was a total turn on, and that surprised me. It was a little bit exhilarating to know that so many of those women wanted him, but he was coming home with me. It made me feel special and wanted. It made me feel young again.

Reaching across the car, he takes my hand and raises it to his lips, then rests our clasped hands together on my leg. “You’re quiet,” he says, over the music. “Are you all right?”

“I’m great. I was just thinking about how amazing you were tonight. And Evie loved the song Storm sang to her. She was really touched by it.”

“I was hoping you would like it. Maybe Storm’s plan of wooing Evie worked.”

I smile over at him and tighten my fingers around his. “I’m pretty sure it did. It was a really sweet song, just like you.”

He chews his lip ring for a few seconds, then glances at me briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “I’m not always sweet and quiet, Ivy.”

The tone in his voice is now deeper, mysterious, and dark, making my stomach do a slow flip.

I lick my lips nervously, because I love my sweet Lukas and can’t imagine him any other way. “Okay,” I murmur, but I’m not sure he hears me because he doesn’t say another word for the rest of the drive. He just holds my hand and nods his head to the rock music blasting from his stereo.

Earlier, I told him Macy was staying over at a friend’s house, and he knows that Tommy is with Paul this weekend, thus leaving me free for the entire night.

Free to not go home.

Free to stay at his place.

Free to sleep with him.

Free to be . . . free.

IVY

HE OPENS MY CAR DOOR FOR and then puts his arm around me, protecting me from the cold air as we walk across the dark parking lot to his house. Snow flurries are falling softly as he unlocks the door and lets us in.