The Musician

Chapter Eleven - Watching and Waiting

"Orlando?"

There was a stretch of silence, before the man in question shifted slightly, and kissed Hannah's forehead. "Yes Love?"

"How old are you?"

"25, well 26 very soon."

"How soon?"

"Like Monday soon."

She laughed into his chest, and snuggled closer under the afghan they were sharing. "Why doesn't it surprise me that you wouldn't tell me. Me of all the people in the world."

"I don't like birthdays. They're way too confusing and thanking people all the time and all that shit. Don't get me wrong, when I was 17, I couldn't wait to turn eighteen. But, after that hurdle was crossed, it all got pointless." He looked down at her, and smiled at the cheek pressed against his tee shirt. She had a content smile on her own face. He could feel the brush of her eyelashes as she blinked her eyes.

"What would make this birthday unforgettable?"

"I don't know."

"Alright. Just checking."

He shifted her back, ever so slightly, being sure to keep her well on the couch. "Checking on what? What's going on in that cute little head of yours?"

Hannah grinned up at him. "Nothing. I swear. Nothing, at least, that you shouldn't worry about for exactly 97 hours and 56 minutes. Got it?"

"Oh Lord, you're planning something." He rolled his eyes heavenward and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh Lord, she's planning something." He got an elbow in the ribs and a harsh chuckle for that acting fiasco. Wincing, he rubbed his side and spoke in his best Austin Powers accent. "Ow! That really hurt! I'm going to have a bruise there!"

She giggled and, leaning down slightly, pressed a kiss to where his hand rested. "There, better?" She looked back up at him through slightly shaded eyes. His own were dark in reply. No, it wasn't better was it?

Orlando had caught his breath as she had wiggled slightly and bent, pressing her flesh against his ribs. The butterfly light touch had been a fleeting reminder of the touches that they had brushed against each other in dark rooms and abandoned hallways. But never like this. Never gentle and kind and completely loving.

Yes, loving. 'No Bloom. Do not bring up that word. Do not bring up the Big 'L'. Just don't.'

"Hannah love, you're making me nervous down there."

She just gazed up with her coquettish eyes. "Why? Because of this?" She dipped her head again, and kissed farther to the side on his chest, then proceeded to do the same for what seemed like every square inch of his abdomen. He was getting aroused. And she would have been blind not to notice.

She did notice.

And she smiled quite nicely. Slipping her hands under the seam of his shirt, she tugged until she found the actual skin of his torso, and repeated her earlier ministrations.

"Hannah." His voice was ground through clenched teeth. She didn't care. She started using her tongue, tracing patterns across his flesh. "Hannah, you sure know how to get a guy up there."

"Would you just shut the fuck up already Bloom, and let me seduce you?"

She maneuvered him to his back and straddled his hips. Something hard strained against her pelvis and as she shifted her weight slightly, he gasped deeply. She grinned again. He regained his grip on the world after that first wave of pleasure.

"Seduce me? Why would you want to seduce me?"

She stopped pulling at his shirt, and gave him a blank stare. He had practically told her "No." with his strong speech. Grumbling, she rolled off of him, and rose to her full 5'7".

"If you have to ask a stupid question like that, then you ask why I waste my time on you."

Turning, she stalked out of the room. Orlando lay on his couch on shock. Why had he opened his mouth? Oh god, he'd fucked it up for sure now. He heard the door to his apartment slam before he could manage a reaction at all.

He rolled off the couch and bounded after her. Down stairs and long corridors, he followed her fading footsteps.

"Hannah, wait. Please wait." He tried to catch her arm at the door, but she slipped through the glass onto the street. She waved frantically for a cab. "Hannah, stop, please! Don't leave, I'm sorry. Oh God, I am so sorry! I didn't mean anything by it!" He took hold of her arm lightly and whirled her around. "Listen to me dammit. Don't just run o-"

He mentally and physically stopped. She was laughing.

"God, if you could have seen your face, just now. Just like a little boy whose mother won't buy him that special toy in the window because he's abandoned all the other one's he's ever had."

He cocked his head to one side. Was she being metaphoric with him? "Look, I'm sorry. Really I am. Please, come back inside. It's 11 at night love, and your in your bed clothes."

She looked down at her lounge pants, the sandals she managed to slip on, and Orlando's oversized bath robe, and giggled slightly. "Well you know, if this was Australia, it would be summer and I'd be fine dressed like this."

"Yes, but it's England, and it's snowing."

She looked around, as if realizing where she was for the first time. "Oh yeah. I guess it is. I guess I should go back inside huh?"

He grinned widely. "Yeah I guess you will."

"You know Bloom, if you weren't so bloody blind, I might fall in love with you." With that said, she turned crisply on her heel and went back into the building.

It really was a night for surprises as far as she was concerned. 'Don't let her get away now Bloom. Did you hear that? She might fall in love with you.' He walked quickly to try and catch up with her.

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She beat him to his apartment by a good five minutes, after he spent what seemed like forever waiting for the stupid elevator. Why did she always have to take the stairs everywhere? 'Oh yeah, confined places. Small spaces. Slowly being suffocated and completely dark- STOP IT!' Her mental battle was vicious yet again. Everyone had phobias. Hers were unfortunately large and terrifying. Shaking her head, she dropped the bathrobe from her shoulders and made her way to Orlando's bedroom to hang it back in his bathroom.

It had been sickeningly sweet when he had offered to walk her home from her concert. It hadn't been that far. No more than a mile. Until she had slipped in that damn icy puddle. Then, of course, the man couldn't abide his lovely lady walking home, cold and dripping wet.

Bringing the fabric up to her cheek, she rubbed the soft terry against her skin and breathed in deep. It smelled like him. Everything smelled like him. And he smelled wonderful. At the bathroom door, she checked her reflection in the mirror.

Her hair was lighter than a week before. She had dyed it again. It was 'Angelic Blond' as her cousin had pronounced it. It was a good color. It matched her eyes at least. At least that much looked good about her. She turned sideways, and inspected her stomach. She had never quite recovered from Kathryn. She was still a bit chubby. She would always be a bit chubby. The memory of her daughter made her happy and sad at the same time. Her little cherub. Her little lost girl. Tears welled behind her eyes, and pressure build up behind the bridge of her nose.

She put a hand to her forehead and took in a deep breath. That part of her life was a long way behind her. She had moved on. Wiping at the moisture on her cheeks, she clicked on the lights and put the bathrobe on the hook on the back of the door.

When she came around the door, she wasn't expecting Orlando to be three inches from her, grinning. She gasped, screamed, and jumped back simultaneously. She caught hoot oot on the rug and started to fall backwards. Orlando laughed as he lurched forward and caught her smoothly.

"If you know how to get a guy up there, than I guess you could say that I sure know how to knock a girl off her feet."

After gaining her breath, Hannah was able to laugh ruefully. "Yeah yeah. Could you let me up know. I think all the blood is rushing to my head."

"Nonsense. Your head is higher than your heart. And besides, you have to pay a price to be let back up."

"Do I want to know?"

"Of course." He lowered his voice, and his head. "The price is simple. One kiss."

"I guess I could afford that."

He smiled before becoming serious in his intent, and brought his mouth down to hers. She was limp in his arms for a second, before she reached up, and twined her arms around his neck. Sighing, he deepened the kiss.

'Heaven, thy name is Orlando.' She gave herself up to him. All thoughts of her daughter, her job, her life . . . faded into nothingness. All that mattered was the feel of him in her hands and in her soul. And she wanted to feel all of him.

He pulled her up to a standing position, and buried his hands in her hair. Her own twisted in his black locks, pulling his face closer. She angled her mouth over his, and pleaded with her lips to give her what she craved.

Orlando took a deep breath as he pulled back. She whimpered and tried to follow him, but he held her head steady. "Hannah."

"What did I tell you about talking? Do I have to repeat myself?" She pulled his head to the side and started to kiss and lick her way up and down the smooth white column.

He gave her an odd look before bending swiftly, and picking her up under her knees. She murmured her approval and attacked his ear with gusto. His blood was starting to rise and he knew what he wanted. He kicked the door open farther and walked quietly to his bed.

Quietly, that is, until his toe got caught on the edge of his bed frame, and they both crashed to the downy mattress. Not breaking contact with her mouth, Hannah squeaked, and started to pull at his shirt.

Shifting his weight off of her, Orlando was the thoughtful lover by pulling Hannah into a sitting position for better access. Hannah was getting extremely flushed and could feel the wetness between her thighs start to soak through her panties. She blushed even more at the feeling, but latched her mouth onto Orlando's.

'Breath in, breath out. Breath in. breath out. Don't fuck it up now Hannie. Don't fuck it up now.'

His fingers traced down her sides as Orlando's fingers found her bra clasp and freed her from the tight restraint. His eyes lightened at the bared flesh. His mouth lowered, skimming along her collar bone, her shoulder, and to the swell of her heaving bosom.

She cried, and arched into his mouth before murmuring a, "No!" and pulling his head back up to her own. He complied, readily, and settled for using his hands instead.

"Orlando. You wouldn't happen to have a condom on ya would you?" Her voice was raspy, her throat dry from the increased airflow through her mouth. He nodded into her neck and reached over her to his bead side drawer.

Now, she was nervous. As the momentarily blinding thrum of lust started to switch to the all-consuming, mind-clearing whirl of passion, she started to get nervous. He leaned back and kissed her, hard. It was almost as if he felt her momentary withdraw. She threw caution to the wind, and pulled him down on top of her.

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He was elated. Soft arms cradled his head to a soft chest. He could hear the steady thump of Hannah's heartbeat under his ear. He giggled a little as it skipped a beat, and then two, before regaining it's former tattoo in her body. Maybe she had a heart murmur. Resolving to ask her later, he raised his head, and saw she was sleeping. The first time had been quick. It had been hot. It had been heaven. And so had the second time. Now, he was afraid he had tired her all out.

Leaning back, he pulled her gently under his arm and tucked her head under his chin. Her breath fanned out across his naked chest and her hand splayed across the skin over his own heart. She whispered something soft before turning her face to him, kissing him in her sleep.

He smiled. She was amazing. She was a beautiful, talented, amazing woman. And, if he had his way, she'd never get away. Ever.