Sweet and Sinful (3 page)

I laughed and pulled away. “You’re giving me a few days to recover, remember? And don’t you need to talk to Bruce?”

He sighed. “Fine. Come on, you can wait at my place.”

Instead of taking the steps down to the basement of the block, we entered through the door to my building. Ian paused at the staircase to make sure no one could see us through the glass door to the lounge, and then with a wink, descended the staircase to the basement. I followed, feeling jittery and lightheaded. It was a relief to know that after talking to Bruce, all this sneaking around would be over.

As soon as we were alone in his room, Ian gently took my bag off my shoulder and placed it on his desk. We went into his bedroom and I stood in the middle of the room feeling anxious while he walked over the guitar stand that housed both an electric and acoustic guitar. Apparently he wasn’t quite ready for the showdown either.

“Do you play?”

I shook my head.

“Sometimes I prefer the acoustic.” He ran his fingers along its neck. “I like the rawness of acoustic guitar, don’t you? And I never feel like I should be playing in a band when I’m playing acoustic.”

“Why don’t you like the idea of being in a band?”

“I guess it’s the pressure. I only want to be accountable to myself.” He picked up the electric, a red Gibson with a mother of pearl faceplate, and held it out to me. “‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ is an easy enough one to learn. It only requires chords E minor, A, G and C. I’ll find the chords for you.”

Moving to the living room area, Ian opened his laptop on the coffee table and ran a search. I followed and perched on the edge of the couch, played at plucking the strings. Soon a printer on the desk roared to life and Ian brought the papers over, placed them on the table in front of me. He’d printed off both the tabs and chords used in Teen Spirit, as well as a page of chords and their finger placement diagrams.

“I expect a show when I get back.” He winked.

I knew he was trying to distract me, and I appreciated it. The moment he left, I looked at the chords drawings and practiced moving my fingers into place. Then I tried actually playing each chord until it sounded right. Then, once I was confident with each chord, I finally attempted a very, very slow rendition of the song. The hardest part was moving my fingers to the next chord in time. The most painful part was the way the strings bit into my fingers. No wonder Ian had callouses.  

I was musical and knew how to play piano, but guitar was entirely different. Guitarists used tabs and memorized chords, whereas I was used to reading music. Not for the first time, I appreciated how much time it must take to learn guitar. Plus it was way cooler. A guitarist could join a band and if they could sing too, they had it made. Sure some bands had keyboardists, but I doubted they got the same star attention as lead singers and guitarists.

As I thrummed the strings, I got lost in the idea of Ian and I being in a band. Maybe I could write the lyrics and play keyboard and he could play lead guitar. Was he a singer? I’d have to find out. I’d love to find out.

The suite door banged closed and I stopped playing. A string vibrated and slowly died out as Ian walked into the bedroom, his face unreadable.

“How’d it go?” I asked, pushing the guitar aside and jumping to my feet.

“Terrible.” Ian shook his head somberly. “Not only was I fired, I was kicked out of school.”

But his lip twitched and gave him away.

“Jerk!” I said and tossed a pillow at him. “I was worried. What happened?”

He sprawled on the couch, grinning mischievously. “Play for me and I’ll tell you.”

“Ha! Yeah right.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I said I expect a show when I get back.”

“That’s so not fair.”

I crossed my arms and stared him down. Ian met the challenge, his arms stretched across the back of the couch cushions, his eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” I muttered, breaking under his intense gaze. I moved to sit down again, but he shook his head.

“No, stand up and play for me. Like a real rocker chick.”

I shot him a glare, which he returned with a grin. He held the guitar out and I snatched it from him but went to stand in front of the TV, his amused smile making me blush. All I needed was for him to tell me I look
cute
. If he said that, I was going to hit him with the guitar instead.

Carefully I put the strap over my shoulder and adjusted it to fit my height. Then I practiced squeezing the chords a few times. When I glanced up at Ian he was watching me, that smile still on his lips.

“Any time, sweetheart.”

Taking a deep breath, I began to play. Luckily my hair shielded him from witnessing my embarrassment as I plucked at the strings. I hadn’t practiced standing up so it took me a moment to get my bearings, but soon I was into the music and could hear Kurt Cobain singing in my head. I even had to bite my lip to stop myself from singing along. No one needed to hear that.

Ian clapped loudly when I finished. “You’re a natural. You looked hot too.”

Blushing, I hastily sat down again, shoving the guitar at him. “Now your turn. Out with it.”

He shrugged, his tone growing more serious. “It went okay. Well, I shouldn’t make it sound that easy. At first he was pissed. Said I should have known better not to get involved with you.” Ian paused to swallow. “He’d heard about what happened with Vanessa and thought this was the same thing.”

I’d forgotten all about Vanessa. I bit my lip and looked down guiltily.

“So it took me a while to calm him down and convince him this is different. Basically he wanted to know how serious we are and if there’s a chance I’ll break it off during the school year.”

I stopped breathing and continued to look at my fingers. I was dying to know what he’d responded.

“Hey.” Ian put a finger under my chin and tilted my head up to look at him. “Are you actually afraid I might have said yes?”

“No,” I lied.

He gave me a disapproving look but continued. “Once he knew how into you I am, or maybe that I wasn’t going to back down, he had no problem with it. Said it’s shitty luck you live in one of my buildings but that he doesn’t want me to resign. Too bad—I’d envisioned renting an apartment and moving you in to have sex with me 24/7.”

 I snorted. “You
would
envision that.”

“Careful. You don’t want to anger me right now. You’re still recovering from the last time you did that.”

I shifted on the couch. “Maybe we should get out of here.” The energy in the room was starting to feel dangerously charged, and he was right. I couldn’t take another round with him today.

“Relax.” He grinned and pulled me into his side. “Let's just watch a movie before we have to leave for our afternoon classes. No studying, no talking, just us.”

I exhaled and nodded. That sounded like heaven.

***

But we didn’t end up returning to class. Ian, in all his selflessness, insisted I was still recovering and needed time to just veg. And I was too burnt out from my weekend of studying to argue. So instead we watched a movie then went to the cafeteria for a very late lunch. It was our first outing since we became a couple and we didn’t exactly try to hide our relationship, but we didn’t make a big show of it either, much to Ian’s frustration. He tried to grab my hand a few times only to have me snatch it away. He glowered the entire wait in the food line and still didn’t thaw when we sat by the window to eat our burgers.

“I just want to tell my friends first,” I explained. “They’ll be upset if they hear it from someone else.”

“Then we’re telling them tonight.” He gave me a stern look.

“Definitely.”

“And I’ll come with you,” he pressed.

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

“I’m their RC. It makes sense for me to be there.”

I sighed. “Fine.”

“After dinner then.”

“Okay.”

His stern expression melted into a grin. “Good, because I’m taking you on a date.”

My eyebrows shot up. This I hadn’t been expecting. Ian Crawford could be romantic?

As if reading my mind, he cocked his head to the side and sighed. “When will you stop being so skeptical and get that I’m different with you? You make me want to be a good guy. Most of the time,” he added with a smirk.

I smiled and looked down at my lap, aware of all the eyes on us in the cafeteria. Somehow I doubted we looked like two buds having a friendly chat over lunch. My cheeks were flushed and his body language said it all: he was itching to touch me.

“A date would be nice,” I said softly.

He sat back in his seat and bit into a fry. “Get ready to swoon.”

Ian took me off campus for our first date. Unlike me, he wasn’t limited to using the bus—he had his own car. And not just any old beater, but a silver Audi Q5 with black leather interior. With seat heaters. I would do anything for seat heaters.

I’d dressed in my best pair of skinny jeans, boots and a tight black sweater, my hair up the way he liked it. Ian was wearing a dark grey blazer over a white V-neck shirt. It was the most dressed up I’d ever seen him, and he looked good. Damn good.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as we sped off campus.

“You of course.”

“You better be.” He reached over and squeezed my leg. “These jeans get my approval. Your legs look sexy.”

“Good, I’m glad they meet your standards.”

“The boots too.”

“Noted.”

He flashed me a grin. “You’re feisty today.”

I smiled sweetly. “Maybe because I know you can’t touch me.”

“If you keep up the attitude, I just might change my mind.”

I stuck out my bottom lip and he chuckled.

Outside the sun was setting and the sky was a mix of purple and red. To call it beautiful was an understatement. I pulled out my iPhone and snapped a picture. Then I covertly angled the camera to get a shot of Ian driving. There was something super sexy about the way Ian drove. He drove over the speed limit, but not enough that I felt unsafe, and his reflexes were quick. He drove the way he had sex: commanding, like he knew what he was doing. Even watching him drive gave me panty soup.

Just as I was about to snap the picture, he crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue. I laughed and punched him playfully.

The restaurant was a small family owned business that served Mediterranean food. Ian had reserved a table for two beside the window which offered us a final glimpse of the sunset before it disappeared.

“Have you been here before?” I asked, looking out at our view in awe.

“It’s one of my favorite restaurants.”

The light was low and a single candle flickered in front of us. Ian’s green eyes were on me and as usual in the semi darkness, they appeared to glow. Also like usual, I heated and looked down at the menu. I could never maintain eye contact when he stared at me like that.

A young and pretty server with blonde hair down to her waist appeared. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked Ian.

He looked up from his menu and dazzled her with his most charming smile. “Yes, I would like to order a bottle of wine.”

“Certainly. Would you like a recommendation?”

“No thank you, Tiffany. I know which Pinot Noir I’m after.”

The nerve
.

I didn’t even hear what Ian ordered. I was too busy bristling at the way he was looking at the server and too caught up in my emotions to focus on much else. I was upset but mostly angry. Sure I’d witnessed him in flirtation mode before, but I’d been fairly certain that behavior would end once we started dating.

The poor girl blushed a dark red and didn’t even glance in my direction before taking off to grab the bottle. I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms.

“What?” Ian asked, the side of his mouth turning up. “Why are we pouting now?”

“Don’t turn this on me.”

He rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair, his posture mimicking mine. “You’re jealous.”

“Let’s talk about jealousy, Mister makes Daniel all flustered over a stupid poem.”

Ian’s lips twitched and he raised his eyebrows. “Seriously? That’s the worst comeback ever.”

“You get my point!” I snapped. “No guy can talk to me, not even my
peer
, but you can flirt with the server right in front of me?”

Ian sighed and sat forward, placing his forearms on the table and speaking low over the candle. “For your information, I did that for you. I wanted to order one of my favorite Pinot Noirs and didn’t want her to ID you. Because let’s face it, sweetheart, you still look like a high school student.”

My cheeks heated in both embarrassment and indignation. “I do not.”

He splayed his hands helplessly. “I’m just stating the facts. It’s not likely you could pass for twenty-one. Frankly I think you should be thanking me.”

“You’d like that,” I mumbled.

He laughed just as the server returned with our bottle of wine. She uncorked it with shaky hands, shooting Ian nervous smiles, but didn’t spare me a glance. When he put the glass to his lips to taste it, she licked her own lips.

“It’s great, thank you,” Ian said. “I think we’re ready to order too. We’ll both have the lasagna.”

My mouth fell open. Now he was ordering meals for me too? The moment she left, I jumped on him. “Let me guess—you don’t want her to notice me and realize she served a minor. Lamest excuse ever.”

He grinned. “Nah. The lasagna is just really good and I wanted you to try it.”

I left the restaurant feeling stuffed and warm from the lasagna and wine. Everything felt right driving together through the night in Ian’s car. When he pulled onto campus, I wished we could pull a U-turn and go back to being just us.

Ian took my hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze as we walked from the parking lot to campus. He released me only to open the door to my building, held it open for me. We climbed the steps in silence, Ian staying behind me even as I walked down the hall to Melissa and my room.

The door was open and Melissa was lying on her bed reading a magazine. She glanced over when I entered and did a double take when Ian followed me inside. Her eyes moved between us suspiciously.