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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


            It had to be a dream, but oh hell, what a nice dream.


            Kei was kissing me.


            It was one of those perfect kisses that only happened in hot, sticky dreams and in really good romance novels; the kind of kiss where both pairs of lips knew exactly what to do and where to go.  It was a French kiss done right without having a tongue shoved down one’s esophagus.  It was sweet and yet so deliciously bad that it could make a church girl into an unrepentant slut.  Kei’s tongue swept inside of mine, tasting me and urging me to do the same for him as his hot breath fanned over my face.


            He was lying halfway across my body, his bare chest across my covered one.  Our thighs were touching, rubbing against each other like kindling.  His hair fell across my sensitized skin like a living curtain of black silk.  My fingers were caught in it; my nostrils were filled with its scent of shampoo and sleep.


            I felt his lips against my throat and I eagerly arched into the kiss.   He took tiny bites of the tender skin at my pulse.  I gasped, loving the interspersion of pleasure and pain.  His guitar-calloused hands cradled my face like one of his precious instruments as he brought his lips back up to mine for more of those slow-motion, velvety smooth, silken madness kisses.  I opened my mouth to his as if we’d been lovers for ages as my fingers slid along the smooth skin of his jaw line.


            I heard my name whispered from his kiss, so soft, so hungry, so needy.


            I slowly opened one eye.


            It wasn’t a dream.  Kei was kissing me.


            Son-of-a-bitch and oh my god!


            I wrenched myself from his embrace, suddenly and very rudely awake with my heart hammering against my chest, my lungs pounding like I’d run a marathon. 


“What the fuck!”  I hastily covered my chest with my arms, knowing full well that my nipples stood out like beacons beneath my thin cotton t-shirt and my skin was flushed.  “You promised!”


“I tried to.” There wasn’t the smallest bit of shame or remorse in him.  His eyes were heavy-lidded, the lashes nearly brushing against his sculpted cheekbones.  “But fuck me, you have the sexiest mouth.  I was curious, and then that wicked tongue of yours drew me in and I was lost.”


“Bullshit,” I snarled, looking for something to throw at him besides my fist.  “That’s what I get for feeling sorry for you!  The next time your spook comes rattling his chains, you’re on your own asshole!”


Kei just laughed in that deep, throaty way.  “You’re really angry aren’t you,” as if that surprised him.  “Most women would kill to get a taste of what I just gave you.”


I was shaking with rage and as much as I hated to admit it, arousal.  “You fucking arrogant piece of shit!  You might be used to women throwing themselves at you, but I’m not one of them and unless you’re willing to show me some respect, I’m out of here and taking my designs with me!”


My fists balled up at the sides and I looked anywhere but at him.  I didn’t want to see that smug look or I’d wipe it off.


Instead he planted himself firmly in my line of sight and he was not backing down an inch.  “If you’re expecting me to say sorry, forget it. I’ve wanted to taste those lips of yours from the moment you stepped into this house.”  Standing there half-naked like a huge chunk of temptation, I was torn between wanting to finish what he started and wanting to kill him. “If you decide to leave I’ll understand, but man, the things I wish I could with your lips...” His eyes made a burning laser trail down between my clothed legs.  “Both of them.”


With a snarl I leapt off the bed and stalked back to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me, calling Kei Matsuya every dirty name I could think of. 


I should have known I’d get no more sleep that night.  My mind and my body were insistent upon replaying that damn kiss over and over again and even adding parts that hadn’t even happened yet so I was pissed off and horny as hell.  Not a good combination for resting.


It wasn’t the kiss that bothered me.  Hell, I enjoyed it.  What breathing straight woman wouldn’t?  If I were honest, I wasn’t even that surprised by his reaction afterwards—after all that was Kei behaving true to form.


I sighed, tossing to and fro as the sun rose slowly over the horizon.  This mess was getting complicated and it shouldn’t be.  Yes I wanted to create the costumes for Dominion’s End; I’d already made up my mind on that.  It was time to take AlterEva Designs to the next level and I was willing to do whatever it took to get there.  Hell, I’d even sleep with the man in order to get this insane whatever it was out of my system so that I could concentrate on what was really important.  Unlike most of my gender, I knew how to separate sex from love, something I had to learn early on in order to not get distracted from what was most important—my business.


Of course I wouldn’t tell him that, at least not yet.  When I did, I was also going to set some ground rules.


*


            A hearty breakfast awaited me later that morning and the sight of fluffy scrambled eggs with Italian sausage and green peppers put me in a nicer frame of mind.


            Kei had the nerve to look just as yummy as breakfast, freshly showered and dressed casually in jeans and a Kamelot t-shirt.  His hair was still damp.  He probably slept well all things considered.


            “Good morning, Eva.  Still pissed at me for kissing you?”


            I poured myself a glass of orange juice which gave my hands something constructive to do rather something destructive like slap the oh-so-satisfied look off his gorgeous face.  “What do you think?”  I popped a forkful of the eggs into my mouth and stifled a moan.  Fuck the man could cook.  I could almost forgive him anything, since food was one of the few pathways to my heart.


             “I think you’re delicious.”


            Whatever smart-assed comeback I had evaporated from my brain from the wicked look he gave me.  “You’re a gorgeous woman, Eva.  I couldn’t resist.  So I didn’t.  After seeing Shane again, I just needed someone to bring me back to what’s real.”


            I let the fork clatter to my plate.  “So kissing me was some sort of therapy or something or am I just another potential conquest?”


            “I don’t do conquests,” Kei reached out, grabbed my hand and started stroking the inside of my palm.  “Look, from the time we were a bratty-assed garage band playing old Yes and Rush tunes, I’ve had my pick of women.  That’s not conquest because I never had to work for it.  I’ve had women wanting to blow me while their boyfriends stood outside our tour bus.”


            That didn’t surprise me.  “So what’s your point?”


            “You little Miss Eva Vincent, oh yeah,” and I really wanted to moan as his touch fired up all my cylinders, “You’re gonna make me work for it.  I like that”


            “Damn straight,” I said, but without much conviction.  My palm was sending signals straight between my legs but Kei wouldn’t let go of my hand.  He was obviously enjoying this. 


            “That’s fine by me babe.  I’ve forgotten what it’s like to not always get my way.”  Abruptly he let go of my hand and it hung in midair until I finally snatched it back, still tingling from the caress.


            “Then I guess I’m here to remind you,”  I murmured weakly.


            “That’s right. Having you around keeps me grounded.”


            “Keeping you grounded is your job,” I shot back, still tingly all over. “Stop believing your own press.”


            “I would, except that I’m practically surrounded by it.”


            There was nothing else to be said and we continued to eat breakfast in somewhat companionable silence though the air around us was thick with that good kind of tension that happens when two people start tap-dancing around their mutual attraction.  I did my best to not look at him or to remember how good his mouth felt on mine.


            Kei Matsuya was turning out to be one huge bundle of WTF’s.  On one hand he played the stereotypically arrogant rock god.  On the other he was the creative, driven and guilt-ridden (though I wasn’t inclined to believe in his ghost) man who lived in a big old house by himself.        I didn’t hear his question until he asked again, breaking through my reverie.


            “Wanna go for a ride?”


            There were only two ways to answer that and from the look in his eyes I could tell that he knew exactly where my mind had gone. I was glad we weren’t playing poker because I couldn’t have bluffed my way out of a wet paper bag.  If we’d been playing strip poker, I’d have already been naked. 


            Instead he just trailed his finger across my lips.  “Oh yeah, that too but I meant for a drive in my car.  Baby, you are so tempting me.”  He was violating my personal space again but my lizard brain was urging him to violate away. 


*


            Seeing that it was Kei Matsuya and the fact that it was a three-car garage (even though part of the garage had been converted into a recording studio), I was expecting something red, fast and way beyond my price range.  The red part was the only thing I got right. I was absolutely floored to see a candy-apple 1966 Mustang convertible, expertly restored and obviously well-loved.


            I really hated the bastard now. “I am so inclined to carjack you.  Where’s the Ferrari?


            His eyes were hidden behind wrap-around shades but that didn’t help to make him any less devastating.  “That’s Miki’s department. He’s the one off into that stuff.  Me, I bought this baby when we went platinum.”  He held the door open for me as I slid into leather seats so fragrant and buttery-soft, I actually purred.


            “I hope you’ll do that for me someday,” as he ran that infernal tongue over his lips in a gesture that sent my mind straight to the gutter without passing go or collecting two-hundred dollars. 


            The minute he slid in and turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life and I was in classic car heaven. 


            We drove down Sea Cliff Avenue with the sun on my face and the wind teasing my scalp.


            “Normally I don’t let anyone mess with my music but since you’re a guest, I’ll be a good host.”


            “Got any good metal,” I asked feigning complete innocence.  “There’s this shitty band called Dominion’s End and I can’t stand them. You got any Stratovarius?”  His eyebrows shot up but I just couldn’t resist.  “Timo Koltipelto is hot.”


*


            There is almost nothing better in the world than driving across the Golden Gate Bridge on a blue-sky-bright-sun midsummer day with the top down and Stratovarius’ Infinite cranked up to eleven.  I shifted my focus from the breath-taking view of Alcatraz to the heart-pounding and panty-dampening view of Kei, hair whipping behind him like a serpentine halo of blue-black and his fingers wrapped around the gear shift.  The sun obviously worshipped his golden skin and if I hadn’t known he was close to fifty-years old, I’d have never believed it.  Rock n’ roll had sure been good to him.  Maybe when we got back to the house, I’d sneak up to the attic to see if he was hiding a horrific painting of himself a la Dorian Grey. 


*


            We drove into Mill Valley, one of those places where in certain parts it was almost difficult to believe the skyscrapers and busy streets of San Francisco were just a few miles away.  Some of the neighborhoods had homes built into the forest-covered hillsides and the sun played peek-a-boo through the sheltering canopy.  I drew in deep breath, smelling the heady resin of redwoods and the light tang of salt-spray from the ocean that lay just over Mount Tamalpais.  I could easily see myself living in one of the small, but well-kept rustic looking cottages set back in the hills, happily stitching away while coyotes howled outside my door.


 


            Kei held my hand as we strolled down Lytton Square in Downtown Mill Valley, surrounded by trendy boutiques and cafes.  Gazing into some of the store windows, I couldn’t help but notice we made a pretty striking couple.  It was actually a surprise that no one seemed to recognize Kei as the guitarist for Dominion’s End.  Then again from the look of most of the fashionably chic inhabitants, I highly doubted that most of them were into progressive metal, though I was sure they’d probably say the same about me.


            “Right there is Sweetwater,” Kei pointed out to me.  “Every so often I pop into jam with some of the local musicians, play some blues and stuff.”


            My eyebrows shot up at that.  “You?  The blues?  I thought you were strictly metal.”


            He winked.  “What do you think metal is, sweetheart?  It’s just the blues on steroids, played through Marshalls and sung by skinny white guys with long hair.”


            I’d never really thought about it, but Kei was right.  Maybe there was something to my dad’s Howlin’ Wolf collection after all.  I chuckled to myself.


            “What’s so funny?”


            “My father is a huge blues fan.  Just wait until he finds out he’s listening to the granddaddy of what he used to call people screeching at the top of their lungs.”


            Later we browsed a busy Farmer’s Market, tasting everything we could and Kei surprising me with a bouquet of gorgeous red roses while he went hog wild buying bagfuls of fresh produce and a jar of local honey that gave me some very wicked ideas as to how best to use it.


            This was a side of Kei Matsuya that I don’t think many people saw, or perhaps for reasons of his own, he allowed people to see.  Even though I liked it and was enjoying the beautiful scenery—including the man holding my hand—there was something almost too normal about it.  I didn’t want to examine my discomfort, so I filed it away until later when I could parse my feelings and make them make sense.


***


             “You really didn’t need to do this,” I protested again I placed the roses in a cut crystal vase after we’d returned from the impromptu shopping trip.  “But they are pretty. Thank you.”


            Kei placed the bags of produce on the kitchen counter.  “I actually liked seeing the look on your face when I bought them.  You seemed really pleased.”


            “Who wouldn’t be?  I love roses and these smell so good.”  I buried my nose once more inside the blossoms and my olfactory senses went into overdrive.  Whoever grew these knew what they were doing.  I was getting high on the fragrance alone.  Maybe I’d dry the petals and stitch some velvet potpourri bags for them.


            “Thanks for the quick road trip, but I feel almost bad for slacking off.”


            “You weren’t.  I felt like getting out.  Besides, we haven’t seriously discussed whether or not you’re interested.”


             “The answer’s yes, I’ll do it.  But I want to meet the rest of the band and show them what I have so far.  I also want to get a sense of their personalities.”


            Kei’s dark eyes lit up.  “You’ll see everyone tomorrow.”


*


            After another one of Kei’s fabulous culinary creations which had me considering marrying him just for the food, he joined me in the library, sitting cross-legged on the floor, an acoustic guitar in his hands.  He strummed while I sketched and it was a nice way to while away the evening.  As I sketched, I watched the fading sunlight play upon his features, the way the twilight made him even more mysterious and erotic.  His fingers were gentle upon the strings, his eyes closed while lost in the melody.


            There are handsome men in the world.  There are beautiful men in the world.  To say a man was beautiful in my opinion was not to feminize him in any way.  It was simply a means of describing a man in artistic terms, though there was nothing static or statue-like about Kei Matsuya.  He was vibrant, passionate, unexpected and a man who wielded his sexual allure expertly and without artifice.


            I wanted him.  On my terms.


            They said confession was good for the soul.  So when he met my eyes I said, “You are what some of my hottest fantasies are made of and I wouldn’t mind having a nice and uncomplicated roll in the sheets, or two, with you, but right now this is about business okay?  Maybe, after everything’s done, maybe then.” 


            Kei placed the guitar on a chair and literally uncoiled himself from his position.  Then my mouth went utterly dry as he crawled over to me.  No, crawl is the totally wrong word. When a guy crawls on his knees, it’s because he’s in deep shit (or in Kat’s case worshipping at her leather-booted feet).  What Kei did was undulate sinuously across the carpet, those black eyes ringed with silvery teasing lust.  Strippers, take note here.


            His silver-bedecked fingers slithered up my thigh and I clamped them tight like I was doing isometric exercises when what I really wanted to do was spread ‘em wide and see what other snake-like attributes he possessed.


            “I’m going to hold you to that.” I swore his tongue flickered out like the serpent in paradise.  “But I’m also going to do everything I can to mix business with pleasure.”


            I had no doubt he’d succeed.  My willpower was nonexistent when it came to him.


*


            I placed my rabbit pearl under the pillow because I kept seeing a naked Kei slithering over my body in the library when Kat called.         


            “Hey’ya Kat!  So how’s the world’s biggest geek-fest?”


            “Oh girl, you should see the people,” she gushed in her typical no-time-for-breathing pace.  “It’s wall to wall superheroes, Star Wars and Sailor Moon down here!  You ought to see this gorgeous black chick who dressed up as Storm. I’m talking like the six-pack abs and perfect boobs Julie Bell version!  Not the Halle Berry but the Grace Jones Storm.  If she’s single, she sure as hell won’t be by the time this thing’s over! I’ll e-mail you the pictures.”


            I grinned.  This was Kat true to form, not letting me get a word in edgewise.


            “I’ve almost sold out of every copy of volume one and two and I don’t think I brought enough stock and the dress is a smash!  You should probably check your Facebook page ‘cause you’ve got a bunch of ‘likes’ and I passed out every single business card you gave me.   And I’ve been invited to DragonCon, Neil Gaiman is uber-hot and really sweet and oh Dragon and I are on our way to his parents’ place to get married and have you done the nasty with Kei Matsuya yet?”


            Kat definitely had a one-track mind when it came to getting me laid, but I don’t think I was too far behind considering tonight’s performance. “No, but I met his ex-girlfriend.”


            She snorted. “Jessie Chastain, the low-rent Dita Von Teese.  What did she want?” 


            “She tried to pull the ‘keep your hand off my man’ thing.”


            “Are you kidding?  What did you do?”


            “I didn’t do anything. I just told her that if I wanted Kei bad enough I’d take him and there wasn’t anything she could do to stop me.”


            Kat chortled. “Oh snap!  That must have hurt!”


            “Not as much as Kei telling her to fuck off right in front of me.”


            “Oh my god, he didn’t.  She must have been mortified.”


            “Let’s just say I think she and I are destined for another run-in.”


            Kat sounded positively gleeful.  “Oh man, I want a front-row seat!”


            I just shook my head and then it hit me what she’d said earlier.  “What’s that about you and Dragon getting married?”  Now my voice went up to squeak level.


            I heard her giggle.  “We’re headed up to his parents’ place in Big Bear as soon as this is over!  Neither of us wants a big wedding so we asked his mom to perform the ceremony since she’s a priestess you know?”


            That sounded like a Kat and Dragon production if anything ever did, being married by a pagan priestess underneath big trees and the sweeping sky.  It would also keep Dragon’s social anxiety disorder at bay.  “That’s awesome, you two!  Congratulations,” and I truly meant it.


            As if she read my earlier thought, Kat added, “Dragon’s doing really great down here.  His sister Janis is an herbalist and she concocted some kind of flower remedy that he can take in a bottle of water and it seems to be working.  Better than all those drugs his doctor wanted to put him on.”  A moment of silence then she said quietly, “I wish you could be with me, Eva.  You’re my sister, much more than my real ones ever were.”


            We chatted idly for a little while longer, then Kat started giggling and moaning in that way that indicated Dragon was probably doing things to her that I didn’t want to know about, so I ended our call and promised to send a wedding present.


*


            Kei’s agonized moans awoke me from a deep sleep and I padded down to his room.  He was tossing and turning again, his eyes shut tight.  I gathered him into my arms and held him until he quieted, but I didn’t stay.  I didn’t trust myself that much.












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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.