The Falling of Love (12 page)

Grace sits on the porch anxiously awaiting the arrival of Ian and Jaden. Their show in downtown Hollywood was over an hour ago. She glances at the watch that is loosely wrapped around her wrist. The time it shows only makes her worry more, even though Ian called her after the show and told her how amazing it was. Over twenty people showed up, but he sounded like it had been a thousand.

She is so happy for him, but waiting for the boys to arrive home, she worries something happened. A few moments later, the van that picked him up pulls into the driveway, relieving her worries. Ian and Jaden pile out of their bandmate’s van, a cloud of smoke escaping the van with them. She is filled with excitement when she sees Ian crawl out of the van. His dreams are becoming a reality, and she wants nothing more than the best for him. The look on his face fills her heart with so much warmth. He runs to her, sweeps her up in his arms, and kisses her.

Jaden walks by and shakes his head. “Get a room!”

“I’m so happy for you!” she yells to Jaden.

“Thanks, sugar! It was bad ass,” says Jaden as the creaky screen door slams behind him.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” she asks Ian.

“Well, it’s a start, babe. It’s a start.”

The two of them head inside and upstairs to their bedroom. She gets into bed and watches Ian as he peels off his tight leather pants. “How do you get those darn things on?”

“It’s not easy, but
look
at how hard-core I look,” he says, laughing.

“You would look hard-core in a potato sack.” His long auburn hair, pale skin, his chiseled six-pack, the riveting muscles on his arms, and those stunning electric blue eyes, send her emotions into a frenzy. He melts her heart with his smile. She watches him undress and sighs heavily.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

She smiles and shakes her head. “Not a thing, handsome. Just admiring what’s mine.”

He smiles back and climbs into bed.

“Make love to me, baby. I want you,” he says, as seduction hums in his tone.

She is more than eager to make love to him. He takes her in his arms and she loses herself in his kiss.

The weather warms to a nice temperature that Grace is not used to. Growing up in Ocean View, it was always no more than seventy degrees. Grace sits at the dining room table filling out her invitations to her graduation, which is rapidly approaching. With a heavy heart, she writes James Hathaway on an envelope. Underneath, she adds her old address while wondering if he’ll even read it. She licks the envelope and takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before she lets it out. Ian walks in, clanking as usual. He has a new strut to the way he walks. She has noticed a change in Ian over the past couple of months. Not enough to concern her, but she can see that his band’s recent success is going to his head.

“Hey, babe,” he says, as he grabs an apple from a basket on the well-polished table. “Whatcha up to?”

She lifts up the graduation invitations and gives him a huge grin, feeling a nervous excitement. He only nods in a conceited, but cool manner and gives her a thumbs up.

“I got accepted to UCLA,” she says, timidly.

“Oh yeah, how much is that going to cost me?”

His lack of interest hurts her heart.

“I applied for a Pell Grant and other student loans, so while I’m in school it won’t cost us a dime.”

He sits down at the table, legs spread wide, chomping on his apple. The juice from the apple squirts out of the corner of his mouth, and it makes her stomach turn.
He thinks he’s such a bad ass
.

“Well, that’s good. I already have to work every day of my life to support us.”

He continues munching on his apple. Grace gets up and hands him a napkin.

“So, still considering art as your major?” he asks, as if the question annoys him.

“Yeah, of course. You know I have always wanted to pursue my art and learn more.”

He nods at her again with that same arrogant nod. It is becoming maddening. That movement of his head combined with the juice from that apple, is enough to make her get up from her chair and leave the room. She walks out to the mailbox. With a heavy heart, she slides the graduation invitations in the mailbox and stands with her hand resting on it for a moment as sadness overtakes her. Ian’s attitude has put a damper on her excitement. Feeling unhappy about knowing James will not be at her graduation was already enough to get through without Ian adding more negativity.

After standing silently at the mailbox for a long moment, Grace kicks at the dirt and rocks that cover the driveway that lead to the old Victorian. She walks back to the house, her gaze focused on the dust she creates. She lifts her head and sees Jaden is sitting on the porch strumming on his guitar. She had not noticed him when she walked out of the door a few moments before. Grace sits on the wicker couch next to him. She admires his sultry voice and the melodious song he plays.

“Is that new?” she asks, when he finishes.

“Yeah, I wrote it last night. Heavy shit, huh?” he asks, in his oh-so-smooth voice.

“Who’s it about?”

“Oh, no one in particular.”

“Well, Jaden, as usual it’s amazing.”

“Thanks, sugar.”

Grace walks back inside the house. Ian is no longer sitting at the
table,
however, he left her a little gift on it.

“At least he put a napkin under it.” She exhales as she cleans up his apple core.

Ian sucks on a cigarette that burns between his fingers and taps it sending ashes falling onto the stage. He closes his eyes as he releases the smoke from his lungs. Opening them again, he looks out over the smoky club. He explores the faces of the fans in the crowd. A group of women, scantily clad, chant his name as they reach up to him, swaying their arms to the chords that Jaden plays. A rush of self-confidence takes over his body. Shaking his head, he smiles down at them, still amazed that they know who he is. He takes another drag from his cigarette and then tosses it carelessly onto the stage, grabs his microphone from the stand, and folds his arms over his chest. “Ian, Ian, Ian,” the women chant. Every time he hears his name he gains a little more pride in himself as a front man and as a musician.

He runs his finger over his bare, wet chest, and the women, along with others, scream and whistle. He knows exactly what he is doing when he steps forward, just above them and does it once again, but this time he aims to be even sexier by letting his finger drop lower, almost dipping into his tight,
unzipped
leather pants. Rocking his head to the rhythm of his latest song, he takes in a deep breath and prepares to let out a commanding scream. He bellows out the hard-hitting lyrics and then places his microphone back on the stand. Moving his body to the beat of the drums he slides his hands up and down the stand, mimicking sensually caressing a woman. This drives the women into a frenzy of screams, turning him on. He loves to tease his female fans. It is as if he is dangling a candy bar in front of a child. The only time he has ever felt so sexy was with Grace.

Before the band makes their way off the stage, Ian bends down and picks up the bra that was thrown at him during the last song. Smiling at it, he shoves it into his pocket and then winks at the woman that threw it to him.

Backstage he flops down onto a chair and tries to catch his breath. Jaden hands him a bottle of whiskey and he chugs it down letting some of it seep out of his mouth and run down his chin.

“I could clean that up for you.”

Ian lifts his eyes and standing dangerously close to him is a tall fair skinned woman with luscious red, wavy hair that rivals his for most vibrant.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, smirking.

“With my tongue, baby.”

His smile sweeps up to the side before he brings the bottle back to his lips and gulps down more of the warm alcohol.

“You were so sexy up there on that stage,” the woman says, taking a step closer to him.

He rests the bottle on his leg and takes in the sight of her. She has legs to die for, she is tall, and her blouse does not leave much to the imagination. Her sleek mini-skirt stops at the top of her thighs. He is sure if she bent over he could catch a glimpse of her ass. While he finds her attractive he cannot help but compare her looks to Grace’s.

“Have you seen us play before?” he asks, trying to steer the conversation toward the band.

“I’ve been to all of your shows for the last two months. You don’t recognize me?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to make out the details of faces in the crowd.”

“I have an unforgettable face,” she says, as she kneels and rests her hand, with long red fingernails, on his thigh.

“That you do.” He lifts the bottle to her offering her a drink.

She looks all too eager to take it from him.

“Have you bought our CD yet?”

Handing him back the bottle she gives him an
are
-you-crazy look. Ian nods and swigs more alcohol from the bottle.

“Would you like a hand job from a hot redhead?”

He chokes a little on the liquid that still burns his throat. He is taken aback by her forwardness and cannot think of a reply. Before he has a chance to respond, the group of women that was going crazy over him during the show rushes up to him.

“Ian, you were incredible!” says the one whose breasts are now slightly sagging.

“Oh my God, you’re the best singer ever!” cries another, as she takes his free hand.

“Do you mind?” says the redhead as she rises to her feet and places her hands on her hips. She scowls at them and Ian senses they may come to blows.

“Ladies,” says one of the roadies as he throws his arms over two of the women’s shoulders, “let’s let Ian relax for a bit. They played a long set and he’s tired.”

“Dude!” yells a kid that looks younger than him as he rushes toward where Ian sits. “That was badass, man! Fuckin’ sick!” He raises his hand to give Ian a high-five and Ian reciprocates. The longer he sits there, the more inundated he becomes by fans. Never in his life has he felt so important, so successful. The roadie manages to get the small crowd to retreat to another area backstage and Ian is left to revel in his newfound stardom.

The entire drive home his mind races with all the praise he received and he cannot help smiling at how glorious his life has become. How wanted and desired he is by his female following. Even though many of the women that came on to him backstage were for the most part beautiful in their own way, none of them made him feel the way Grace does or can come close to her beauty. All their sexual innuendos did was
make
him hot for Grace. Make him ache to be with her the entire forty-five minute drive home.

He is slightly disappointed when he enters their dark room and finds her sleeping, but he is so overcome with the desire to be with her, to touch her, to make love to her, he quickly decides that he cannot let her continue to sleep. Stripping down to nothing, he leaves his clothes on the floor at the foot of the bed. He watches as her body rises and falls with her slumbering breaths.

“Gracie,” he calls to her as he pulls the blankets from her. For a moment he pauses to take in her beauty. He always loves how peaceful and innocent she looks while sleeping. “Gracie?”

She stirs and her eyes flutter.

“Baby, I’m home.”

Now that the blankets are off her, he runs his hand across her legs.
That redhead had nothing on you.

His touch wakes her and she looks into his eyes as he peers down at her. “Hi, babe.”

“Hi there.” She smiles.

“Do you know how fucking sexy you are when you’re sleeping?”

Her cheeks turn pink and she smiles at him only with her eyes, still looking sleepy.

“Really, you’re the most gorgeous girl on this planet.”

“Oh stop.” She sniffs the air. “Were you drinking?”

“Just a little.”

“Smells like more than a little.” She giggles. “Did you have fun? How did the show go?”

“The show was sold out.” He winks.

“That’s so freakin’ awesome, Ian! I’m so happy for you. You’re my rock star.”

“Your rock star wants to fuck you.”

Grace lets out a squeak as her eyes grow wide and her hand rushes to her lips. Her innocence turns him on even more.

“Ian Taylor, your language,” she jokes.

Without another word he pulls off her loose pink pajama shorts, taking his time and enjoying the sight of her biting down on her bottom lip. He slips each of his pointer fingers under the elastic on her panties, pulls it up, and lets it snap onto her skin.

“Ouch!”

“Ah, come on, that didn’t hurt did it?”

“Just a little.”

“A little sting?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” he says and then does it again.

He places his head just above the lower part of her stomach. With his teeth he tugs on her lace panties and stops mid-thigh. With every squirm of her body he becomes harder and harder, feeling himself throb with longing. With his finger he traces along her pelvis and then follows the same pattern with his tongue. Her body rises, causing his face to meet with her. He cannot control his need any longer and rubs his lips against her soft, silky skin.

“You make my mouth water,” he says before whisking his tongue across her clit.

The moan she lets out makes him lose control as his mouth and tongue cover her, sucking, licking, and devouring her. This is one of his most favorite things to do. Sometimes he would rather please her this way than have sex. She groans and he laughs at how his skills affect her. Her hands latch onto his head and she thrusts his head as close as it can possibly get. He gasps as he comes up for air.

“You taste so good!”

It seems as if his words send her into pure ecstasy as she whimpers while trying to remain quiet. Her body thrashes wildly beneath him. When she finally stops wiggling, he shifts his body up so that he can now reach her lips with his.

“Oh
my gosh
, Ian. The things you do,” she says, as she pants for air.

He brushes the hair that is stuck to her face by perspiration off and kisses her on the cheek. “You’re beautiful.” He can see that his words bring an immense happiness to her.

Sliding his hand down between her legs, the honeyed wetness greets him. Slipping his fingers inside her, he moves them in and out. Her body twists and wiggles once again, massively arousing him. Lifting his body he slides himself inside her and is overpowered with colossal relief. He has been waiting all night to be one with her.

Grace has spent countless days cleaning up the old Victorian and has a strong sense of accomplishment as she hangs the curtains that she purchased earlier that day on the window in the sitting room. This is the final step she needed to take in completing everything on her to-do list. She is sure that when Grandpa Joe first saw all the work she had done, he had tears in his eyes. Grace asked if she could ban smoking from the house to try to alleviate the foul odor and they all agreed. With fresh paint on all the walls, scented wax burners in the main rooms, and fresh cut flowers from the garden that she planted, the home now has a fresh, inviting aroma. The house now has a delightful light that shines through the immense bay windows in the living room. Grace looks around the house and smiles to herself. “A woman’s touch,” she says, under her breath.

She walks upstairs and pokes her head in Grandpa Joe’s room.

“Good afternoon, young lady,” he says, as he peers up from his book, his glasses resting on the middle of his nose.

“Hey, Gramps,” she says, as she sits on his bed. “Are you hungry?”

“No, dear. I’m fine. Thank you for asking,” he says, with a kind smile.

“Did you hear Ian come upstairs?”

“I believe I did,” he says, with a wheeze. “I’m surprised you two aren’t spending time together on his day off. He hasn’t had one for a while has he?”

“No, he sure hasn’t. He works so hard.”

“He’s a good boy. He loves you very much. I can see it in the way he looks at you. When he stares at you it reminds me of how I used to look at Hattie.”

Grace glances at the faded black and white photograph of Grandpa Joe and Hattie on their wedding day that he has on his nightstand, mingled together with pill bottles and crumpled up tissues. Since her first glance at this photograph she became enamored with it. She recognized right away that it was not the typical vintage wedding photograph where the couple is barely smiling and their bodies are stiff and formal. Grandpa Joe has his arm wrapped tightly around Hattie’s waist and she is pulled as close to him as it seems he can get her. Her eyes are closed and his lips are pressed up against her beaming cheeks. The loose bouquet in her hands gives off a sense that his kiss was the only thing in the world that mattered to her in that moment. Grace picks up the photograph and studies it.