Title: Don’t Look Away: Chapter Two, A Long Trip
Rating: R [language, drug use, nudity]

Summary: Pete and Cady get to know each other on the way to and while in New York City.




Seated in first class next to Cady should have been spectacular, especially since he dropped acid recently. But as the plane took off from the ground, Pete began to tremble, his stomach tightening. It wasn’t a fear of flight overtaking him, but rather a poor physical reaction to the drug, he was certain of it. The moment the seat belt sign went dark, Pete released himself and quickly staggered to the bathroom. Though she remained seated, Cady’s eyes focused in concern on the small door. Barely glancing away, she summoned the flight attendant and requested water and juice for Pete’s return.

The guitarist collapsed into the seat next to her a moment later. His brow was beaded with sweat, his breath quick and shallow. Without pause Cady’s fingers gently touched his forehead, her other hand pulling his from his death grip of the armrest. Leaning forward, her lips softly touched his temple.

“I’m right here with you, Pete,” she breathed. “Right with you.”

“Oh fuck,” he muttered, hand tightening on hers.

Her eyes flicked up to the stewardess who held two glasses filled with Cady’s request. She mouthed ‘thank you,’ motioning with her eyes to the tray she quickly released with her free hand. Nodding the woman set the glasses down and walked away.

“Pete, love,” she spoke evenly, “I have some water for you. Can you drink some water?”

“Cady, I...”

Reaching for the glass, she bumped it softly against his lips, “Just a sip for me.”

Within an hour the unexpected physical reactions abated and Pete was fully entrenched in the trip. He randomly and quickly rattled off all sorts of stories to Cady – always ending abruptly with a comment about the notes and colors the memories uprooted. His dilated eyes focused on the clouds passing by the window intently, causing Cady to switch seats with him for the duration of the flight.

Over ten hours later the plane touched down in New York City but Pete was still flying extremely high above. Never before had he sustained such a long trip. Already he was exhausted but knew as long as the colors were so bright and the music so loud, sleep would evade him. And even worse they were in New York City. The busyness of everything was magnified twenty times in his current state. Even protected in the back of a cab, the noise and lights completely consumed him. By the time the taxi stopped and Cady once more magically produced money, Pete was certain he would never find himself in the melee of the city once more.

But all of a sudden it stopped. The noise was gone both visually and audibly. Pete could not understand at all and he looked around wildly. They had entered a flat, likely Cady’s. A large bank of windows filled one wall, but those were shrouded in an iridescent sheer fabric softening the glare of the city. The remaining walls were painted a soft, heavenly blue. Staring at those walls, which did have an assortment of decorations Pete could not see, he felt a wash of serenity come over him. This was how trips should be.

A hand on his guided him to a soft white couch in the center of the open flat. He knew there was a variety of pastel squishy pillows around him, but he could only describe how marshmallow-like they felt. The hand left his and had not a pair of angelic lips touched his, Pete likely would have been consumed with panic.

Seeing the first glimpse of serenity in his demeanor since their landing in the city, Cady felt comfortable pulling away from Pete. She quickly bustled about her home, clicking on a few lamps draped with pastel rainbow fabrics to soften the light. She changed into a long, loose shift and tied her hair back with a ribbon. Knowing full well her kitchen contained no food or drink whatsoever, she hesitated not to fill a glass with water before returning to Pete. Pressing the glass into his hands, she knelt before the dazed guitarist and carefully removed his shoes. Slowly and methodically she disrobed him, leaving him in only his pants, underwear, and socks.

After insuring he drank, Cady guided him to lay on the couch. His face turned to hers, his eyes struggling to focus on her. But when sparkling blue eyes collided with sparkling blue eyes, Pete smiled.

“You saved me,” he muttered.

Cady reached up and caressed his cheek, “You’re still so far away, love. We’re not there yet.”

“Oh, Cady, I love you,” his lips kissed her palm. “I love you. Where have you been?”

“Waiting for you,” she proclaimed.

He smiled, “You are so fucking beautiful. So beautiful. More beautiful than every song in the world and those not yet sung. So beautiful.”

Cady kissed his sideways mouth briefly, “Pete, I... I can’t leave you here alone, but I need...”

A million thoughts churned in his mind, mostly circling on how beautiful Cady was, but he muttered, “I’ll go with you. Anywhere.”

“That’s sweet, really. But I don’t think braving New York again in your current state is such a good idea. Especially Jimi’s apartment.”

“I came to help. I’ll help.”

She caressed his cheek, “You’ll help me most by staying here but I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Cady sighed, “All right...”



Sitting on Jimi Hendrix’s bed completely fucked out of his mind, Pete felt his anger beginning to boil. Maybe the bright colors of the room were agitating him, Pete did not know. But each heartbeat that passed while Cady gathered up her belongings he clenched his fists more. The pretentious fuck – talented but certainly an ass – had hurt his Cady. It mattered not that had it not been for Jimi they likely would have never met. The very fact that Cady felt so threatened she was ransacking the small apartment was enough negativity for him, especially in his altered state.

“Cady,” he muttered.

Her eyes flicked to him. She instantly noticed his angered aura. Dropping the last of her clothes into the suitcase, she quickly moved over to him. Framing his face with her hands, she kissed him gently. His rage did not abate.

“Pete, let it go.”

“But, Cady, he—”

“Let it go.”

“But—”

“Pete,” she kissed him again, “focus on me.”

“I c-can’t.”

Cady quickly looked around. Her eyes fell on the half-painted guitar she had been working on for Jimi. The thought barely flitted through her mind before she pulled quickly away from Pete. Snatching the guitar, she placed it in Pete’s lap.

“What do you want me to do with this? I don’t fucking want to play you a song,” he declared, looking up into her eyes.

“Smash the shit out of it.”

His eyes lit up. Wordlessly Cady snatched her suitcase and hurried out of the bedroom. As she dropped all of her things by the door, the initial strike hit the floor. Rushing back to the door, she watched as Pete obliterated the guitar on the wooden floor. Jimi’s neighbors were likely to complain about the noise but she didn’t care. Nor did she care when Pete took a swipe at the lamp with the remaining neck of the instrument. Encapsulated in darkness now, Pete tossed the fragment aside. His need for destruction was quieted for the moment, but he knew that note would return if he remained.

“Cady?” he breathed.

Soft hands reached out for him, light suddenly entering his world at her touch. She hurried him out of the small bedroom, thrust something into his hands, and lead him out of the apartment. Each step away he felt his anger slip away, all of his thoughts once more focusing on Cady.

Seated in the back of another cab, Pete became lost in the swirls of light, colors, and music of the city. Slowly the destruction seemed to have been by another, not him at all. God he wondered when this fucking trip would ever end. He wanted to enjoy Cady without the fucked up drug interactions. He just wanted to be naturally with her.

“Pete?”

His eyes wildly cast about before settling on her, “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry.”

Instantly recognizing tears in his eyes, she quickly kissed him, “We’re home. Come on, sweetie.”

He managed to hold it together until they reached the loft. As soon as they set down her things, Pete burst into tears. Her arms circled him, her lips touching his. He collapsed into her embrace, his body practically going slack. Burying his face on her shoulder, his body trembled with sobs.

“Pete, baby, can we sit down?” she asked softly.

He shook his head. 

“Sweetie, I can’t hold you up like this much longer.”

Her words did not reach him at all. The tears had surfaced because of his failure to be himself in the beginning hours with Cady. But now they were fed by all his insecurities from his big nose to his issues with his band to his lack of familial contact. It all welled up and poured out of his acid-tinged tears. He felt like he was constantly coming apart. And he hated himself for doing so around Cady.

Cady. He was suddenly aware outside himself, her request to move finally making sense. Only he realized it too late. Apparently she had already guided him to her bed and talked him into laying down. Cognizant of her now, Pete realized the young woman was undressing him. He could not have stopped her if he tried.

Once he was down to his underwear, Cady pulled abruptly away. She double-checked the lock on the door and quickly turned off the lamps. Stripping her dress off, she climbed into bed with Pete, snuggling her bare chest to his. All of his thoughts whirled to the sensation of her soft globes against his chest. Had he not been high, he would have taken advantage of the situation. But his failure at that once more touched off a rain of tears.

“Shhh,” Cady breathed before kissing him. “I’m right here with you and you’re so amazing, Pete. So amazing.”

“No, I’m not,” he blubbered.

“Yes, you are. I left Jimi Hendrix for you. And I would do so again in a second. You are amazing, Pete,” she argued. “You’re just on a very long trip, baby.”

His face crinkled in pain, the filtered light of the city catching his emotions, “When is it going to end? Make it stop, Cady. Make it stop.”

She kissed him again, “Everything is going to be okay, Pete. How about I sing you a lullaby?”

“Okay.”

Considering her choices quickly, she settled on one, “Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty baby, do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby...”



Waking with a start, Pete sat straight up in bed. Confused panic at his whereabouts consumed him, directing his crazed eyes to seek answers. First his vision snapped to the wall of lightly shaded windows, seeing outlines of tall buildings. Looking away, he inspected the back of the white couch, a jolting memory of candy-colored pillows scattered about. Beyond the couch he could see a frosted dining room table with four white chairs. Though he could not see it, he suspected each was covered with a colored seat. Rather than stare at the white kitchen, his gaze went to his left, drawn to the empty bookcases. No little decorative item cluttered the shelves, which instantly drew his gaze to the shorter bookcase in the center of the two taller ones. A record player sat on the top of it. Instantly he wondered where the records and more importantly where the speakers were.

Just as he realized where he was, the central door opened and in stepped a beauty made only in dreams, bags of groceries in her arms. Before Pete could stumbled out of bed and assist her, Cady set the paper bags on the counter and retrieved her keys from the lock. Only after turning the deadbolt did she turn to look in his direction. A smile instantly lit her face.

“You’re awake,” Cady stated, set her keys on the small table next to the door, and skipped over to the bed.

Before Pete even had much chance to react, she kicked off her shoes, jumped up on the bed, walked over to him, and quickly knelt, her knees straddling his legs. Her hands framed his face and her lips touched his. Arms circling her back, Pete laid back down, taking her with him. Their kiss was giving and gentle, passion just barely percolating under the surface. He felt his heart open fully to hers as their tongues rolled about.

Ever so slowly she pulled out of it, her glittering eyes looking down into his. Cady easily smiled and kissed him simple once more.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

His eyes wavered slightly, “I don’t think I have words to explain it.”

“Try for me.”

“Astounded that I have someone like you in my arms.”

Cady giggled slightly, “That’s not what I mean, Pete.”

“Well that is the most overpowering sensation.”

Her fingers danced across his forehead, “No hangover from the ridiculously long trip?”

Pete frowned, “I don’t think so. How long was it?”

“It started on the plane and we landed in New York twenty-six hours ago. So at least twenty hours before I could get you to sleep,” she responded.

“Fuck,” he grimaced.

Her fingers traced down his nose, something he was very aware of, before catching on his lips as she asked, “Who did you the hit from, Pete?”

“Owsley Stanley,” he answered.

Cady instantly froze, “Really?”

His eyes looked into hers, trying to read her reaction, “What’s wrong, Cady?”

She quickly kissed him, “Baby, that wasn’t LSD you took.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No,” she responded cautiously.

“What was it? And how do you know?”

“Um, Pete, baby, it was STP,” Cady answered. “And he offered me some too. But I don’t do acid any more and after some more pushing, he explained that it wasn’t really acid, so I should take it. Like hell I was going to take something stronger than acid.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment, barely even blinking, “Fuck. I am never doing that again.”

She quickly kissed him once more, “Do you remember your trip?”

Pete’s eyes closed and he took a deep breath. Slowly the images, smells, sensations returned. He recalled the flight and how she had taken such good care of him while his body reacted to the drug. Images of her smiling as he blabbed his mouth off about whatever came to mind flashed in his mind’s eye. His lip twitched slightly at how attentive she had been even through the stories no one likely ever wanted to hear from their new loves about their former lovers. He could feel the pulse of New York as she hurried him in and out of cabs. His fingers instinctively clenched with the memory of smashing Jimi’s guitar. It was quickly followed by tears which was quickly followed by serenity. 

And the recollection of a declaration of love.

His eyes opened, meeting hers, “I meant it.”

“Meant what, darling?” she asked innocently.

“I love you,” Pete declared steadily.

Cady smiled, “I love you too.”

“You do?”

“Of course,” her lips brushed his. “I have since you kissed me in England.”

“Really?”

Cady nodded, feeling his stomach growl as it was pressed to hers, “Are you hungry, Pete?”

He considered her question for a moment and why she had suddenly shifted from talk of love to food. But then he heard his stomach growl as well, something she couldn’t have not heard. With a crocked smile, he nodded.

Kissing him again quickly, she rolled off of him, “Well then wash up and I’ll cook us something to eat.”

Sitting up, his fingers circled her wrist before she stepped away from the bed. Pulling her back to him, his free hand cupped her chin, guiding her mouth to his. Kissing her sweetly and lovingly, he attempted to share with her how much she meant to him already, how much it meant that she had taken care of him the past few days.

“Oh my,” she breathed as he ended the kiss.

“What?” he asked softly, his hand still on her face.

“That could quite possibly be the most perfect kiss in all the history of kisses, trumping even our very first one,” Cady claimed.

“I can do better,” Pete stated, though he wasn’t entirely sure he believed himself.

“We have a lifetime to test that,” she responded, smiling. “But I have already left the groceries unattended for far too long. Go wash up.”



Standing in front of the circular mirror in Cady’s bathroom, Pete stared at his reflection. Without even thinking about it, his eyes were drawn to his nose. Voices echoed in this thoughts, that sounded remarkably like his father, telling him that he was ugly, worthless, unworthy of Cady’s attention, much less her affection. Why would she love him? Half the time he didn’t even love himself. He was unexceptional. And he certainly was no comparison to Jimi Hendrix. That man oozed magic and sexual power. Pete was no competition for him. Cady never should have—

A knock at the door interrupted his self-deprecating thoughts, a muffled voice saying, “Pete? You okay?”

Inhaling deeply and exhaling in hopes of chasing his blues away, he turned away from the mirror and opened the door, “Yea.”

Concern furrowed her brows and she quickly threw her arms around his neck and kissed him gently, “You are amazing, Pete.”

“Cady, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do. I can see it in your eyes. You need to be reminded,” she declared. “And you need to eat. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

“No. But, Cady, I—”

“Come on, love,” she pulled away, her hand simply covering his and pulling him towards the dining table. “I made some breakfast, even though it’s the middle of the afternoon. And after we eat, we’ll go get you some clothes to wear so you don’t have to keep wearing that suit.”

He frowned, “Cady, I don’t have any mon—”

“I didn’t ask you if you did,” she responded, releasing his hand as they reached the table. “Unless you’re planning on leaving me already and going back to England?”

His eyes snapped to hers as she sat down, “That didn’t even cross my mind. Do you want me to leave?”

“Never.”

He pulled out a chair and sat before the other steaming plate of eggs, sausages, and toast, “This looks wonderful.”

She shrugged, “It’s not gourmet, but it’s also more than either of my sisters can cook.”

His mind instantly snapped to her mention of sisters. He realized he knew nothing at all about her and now she knew quite a bit about him because of his drugged chattering. But he was also still bothered by the fact she was apparently intending on buying him a new wardrobe. In fact as he thought about it, he was bothered by the fact she had seemingly paid for everything since they left the festival. And there was no indication she worked a job, so did that mean...?

“Is it not to your liking?” she asked with a slight frown.

“Oh no, it looks delicious,” he responded and quickly followed that with a mouthful of egg.

Cady watched him for a moment, still seeing worried thoughts playing across his face. She really wanted to crawl inside his head and figure him out, or in the very least peer into his thoughts. He seemed to overthink and worry about everything. He just needed to relax.

“So this is the first meal I’ve cooked and eaten in this loft,” she announced. “I’m glad it’s with you.”

His eyes went to hers, “You just moved here?”

She nodded, “Before going to California with Jimi. I don’t think he even knew I purchased it. That’s why it’s kinda empty, why my record player doesn’t even have speakers. They were backordered when I bought the unit, so I’ll need to check in with them today too.”

Pete continued to look at her, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can,” Cady answered, taking a drink of orange juice.

“Not to sound... nosy or anything... but where.... where does...”

“My money come from?” she finished for him.

Pete nodded.

Setting down her glass, she responded, “I’m the baby of five kids. Both of my parents come from old money, though nothing as old as you have in England of course. I live on a monthly allowance from my father, though I’ve never actually spent it all before. Whatever is left over each month, he invests in my name, so I’ll be able to live on that for many years to come, not that he’ll drop my allowance even if I got married. He didn’t for my sisters, just my brothers, but now they work with him too, so I guess he thinks they’re earning their own allowances or something.”

He merely continued to look at her.

“Please, Pete, don’t make a big deal about it. It’s just money and there really isn’t anything I can do about it. I tried for a couple of year to not accept the money, but my father found back ways to make certain he was paying for everything. I eventually just gave up and take his money,” she explained. “And I can’t really complain, because he doesn’t care what I use the money on. Fuck, I could be spending it all on drugs and booze and he wouldn’t care. Please don’t make a big deal about it.”

“I... I don’t know what to say. I’m struggling for money and here you are, never having to worry about it ever,” he said. “I... I don’t know what to think. Did Jimi know?”

She shrugged, “I don’t know how much Jimi knew and didn’t know. He never seemed to really ask any questions, even when I would go out and buy him some new guitar or something. To be honest, you’re the only person I have told outright before. I tend to hide it. I don’t want people to think I’m some stuck-up snob. I’m just a regular girl.”

He blinked a couple of times, “Baby, you’re not just a regular girl. You’re an amazing and beautiful girl. That overrides any amount of money you do or do not have. I... I just don’t really know how to respond to it.”

“That’s okay. Expected, I guess,” she replied, turning her attention to her eggs.

“Cady,” he reached across the table.

Her eyes flicked back up to his, “Are you so weirded out about it that I can’t buy you clothes today?”

His hand caressed hers, “I... no, baby. If that’s what you want to do...”



Standing in the dressing room in a small boutique in Greenwich Village, Pete stared at his reflection in the crooked mirror. He would never admit it, but his feelings were so conflicting at the moment. His girlfriend, as she most certainly could only be termed as such now, was wealthy. It wasn’t something he had ever read in her demeanor at all, so it was very hard for him to process. Coupling that bit of information with the fact he was fairly broke himself, chafed him. He was the man. He was the one who was supposed to be the provider. His woman should not be the one putting clothes on his back or feeding him or... but he did look really good. In fact he looked so good, he thought that Kit would be proud of him back in London. Cady clearly had taste, as everything he wore she had picked out. But dammit, he was the one who was supposed to be the provider. He was supposed to—

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, “Pete? Can I see?”

Opening to door, his eyes went to hers, “Cady, I...”

“Oh, Pete,” she quickly scanned him before brushing her lips over his. “You are so handsome.”

“I don’t think this is such a good idea,” he muttered.

“Baby,” her eyes looked deeply into his, “my purchasing clothes for you does not make you less of a man.”

“How did you...”

Cady pressed her mouth to his again, her fingers tracing down his face, “Pete, it’s okay. We can talk about all of this as much as you want once we get home. But first I amgoing to buy you some clothes. So try on the rest and make sure it all fits and then we’ll go to the music store and you can help me start my album collection. Okay, love?”

Sighing he nodded and returned to the dressing room. As he stripped off the blue buttoned shirt and slacks, Pete’s eyes glanced over the other array of clothes hanging in the small room with him. The half dozen shirts she sent him in with were various colors, something he had never really considered wearing before. Mostly tones of blue dominated the soft fabrics. As his fingers trailed over the shirts, he noticed how soft and luxurious the fabrics were. He didn’t deserve to be treated like this. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it at all. Fuck, they hadn’t know each other long enough for—

“Pete,” she knocked again, “you almost done in there?”

“Yea. Just a minute,” he responded and quickly pulled on another shirt.

After trying on all the clothing she brought him, even a few more items after her initial prodding to hurry, Pete dressed in his old clothes and stepped out of the dressing room. For a minute he wanted to leave all the clothing behind, even though it had all fit beautifully, had looked really nice on him. But he knew Cady would have an issue with that, a big issue with that, and his ego wanted to look good. With a bit of a shy, he tried to decide on a few garments instead. He wouldn’t let her buy it all.

“What are you doing?” she asked, eyes watching him check price tags.

“Choosing a few that aren’t as—”

“Pete,” she warned, reaching for his arm.

“What?” he looked at her. “Cady, you can’t—”

“I can. And I will. You’re not just skimming off the top,” Cady declared.

“Cady, you can’t—”

“I am. Stop dicking around, Pete. We’ve got to drop your new clothes off soon to the cleaners so you have something to wear tomorrow. Grab it all.”



His awkwardness concerning Cady’s known but not really defined wealth began to fade as they wandered a record store not far from her flat. She had left him be in the blues section, checking on her speakers. Somehow she knew just exactly what he needed to pull his thoughts and focus them on something positive. Flipping through album after album pushed negativity further and further away. A lot of the faces, titles, and names on covers were completely unknown to him. But that was part of the excitement.

Arms circled his waist from behind and lips touched his ear, teeth nibbling on his lobe lightly, “My speakers are here. So be sure to choose some fabulous music to christen it with.”

“What do you want to listen to?” he asked, not at all pulling out of her arms.

“Well right now, I would rather have you play for me, but we haven’t really time to go guitar shopping,” Cady responded, “because I want to get home and cook dinner before long. And since we’re just starting my collection, it should probably have a wide selection to suit any mood. And I want something sexy.”

Pete shifted in her arms slightly to look into her eyes, “Something sexy?”

“Yes,” she replied, kissing his mouth quickly. “So pick me out.... ten albums from anywhere in the store. You have until I’m back from the bathroom.”

Left without the pretty woman for a few minutes, Pete quickly ran through his favorite albums in his head and searched the store for them. The brunette skipped over to him less than ten minutes later, a couple of albums in her hands as well. Before he could question what she had, Cady kissed him, turned and headed up to the register. The clerk rang up Cady’s albums first, slipping them into a brown paper bag before Pete could see them. Handing his selection to the clerk who hesitated for a moment before Cady nodded to accept the sale, Pete’s eyes finally met the young man’s. The clerk’s eyes widened in recognition.

“You’re... you’re...”

Pete shifted uncomfortably, not really sure what to do or say.

Cady interjected, “Pete Townshend of The Who, yes. It’s okay. Take a breath, Jake.”

The young man nodded and attempted to regain his composure to finish the sale. His hand shook as he handed the paper bag to Pete while Cady paid for the purchase. Nudging Pete, she whispered to him to autograph something for the apparent fan before they left. Nodding, he looked around for something before she chuckled and pulled one of the albums she had purchased out of the bag. Glancing down he realized it was one of The Who’s albums, A Quick One. Quickly autographing it, he handed it to the clerk, part of him wanting to go find another copy to replace Cady’s. She merely grabbed his hand and guided him out of the store.

“You bought my albums?” he asked as they joined the people on the streets outside the shop.

“Fuck, I forgot my speakers. Wait right here,” Cady interjected and returned to the store.

With the woman absent, Pete gazed into the bag. Pulling out the albums she had chosen, he smiled crookedly. The two remaining albums in the bag were both Who albums, My Generation and Ready Steady Who. She really didn’t need to buy them, he could have easily gotten her copies of any of the Who’s albums. But as he thought that, he realized there was a greater gesture there as well. She was probably aware of album sales and how that formed the industry’s opinion of them. It might have just been the purchase of three albums, only two still in her possession, but Pete just knew there was more thought into it than her wanting his music.

Stepping out the store, Cady approached Pete, “Will you hail a cab, sweetie? I do not want to carry these four blocks to the loft.”

He held out the bag, “I’ll carry the speakers.”

Not arguing, she lead him back to the box containing her speakers, watching as he lifted them up. They weren’t large speakers at all, something Cady was certain Pete would want to upgrade in the near future, but they would do for now. They did not need to serenade the entire building with their music. And at least the fairly compact size meant the box could not weigh much more than the equipment Pete slugged around on stage. She didn’t feel too guilty at letting him carrying them home.

Pete instantly offered to set up the speakers upon arrival to the flat. With a quick kiss, Cady left him to that while she called the cleaners to check on his clothes and decided what to make for dinner. After confirming that his new clothes were in fact ready to be delivered, she opened the fridge. Eyes flitting over her choices, she smiled at the brief squeal of feedback as Pete hooked up her sound system. By the time she had popped the chicken in the oven and eased noodles into boiling water, sweet classical notes filled the air.

As Cady had done at the store an hour before, Pete’s arms circled her waist and he kissed her ear, “It already smells delicious.”

She leaned back on him for a bit, “Again, I’m not a chef. Just a simple cook.”

“You’re far more than a simple cook,” his teeth nibbled her ear.

Her hand caught his before it slipped up from her waist to cup her breast, “You should open the bottle of wine that’s in the fridge.”

Kissing her again, Pete pulled away to do her bidding. He randomly pulled open drawers, searching for a corkscrew before opening the fridge. Quickly opening the bottle of wine, he set it on the counter to breathe while he sought wine glasses. With two glasses in his hands, he leaned against the counter for a moment, watching Cady cook. It was such a simple scene, so very domestic, and yet he could not explain the feeling rising through his soul at the image of the curvy woman standing before the stove. 

Given the chance, Pete looked her over slowly. She wore a form-fitting sapphire blue sweater and a short white skirt, showing off her long, shapely legs. Barefoot from almost the moment they stepped into the loft, he realized that he had never really looked down into her eyes, nor had she ever pushed up on her toes to kiss him. They were nearly equal in height, she being maybe six inches shorter than him, if that. Her body was perfectly proportional, a delicate and natural hourglass shape marking her silhouette. He truly did believe her to be the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

The timer went off on the stove and Cady stepped back. Pete’s eyes instantly snapped to the hem of her skirt, knowing she was going to have to bend over. He sucked in a sharp breath when she did just that, giving him a glimpse at her blue lacy panties. She glanced over her shoulder at him as she removed the chicken from the oven; her action spurring him to turn back to his task of pouring wine.

Letting the chicken sit for a minute, Cady pulled a tossed salad out of the fridge and turned to dish up the salad and noodles onto the plates on the counter. Looking sideways at Pete as he frantically looked around for a towel to wipe up the dribble of wine from the counter, she smiled crookedly. He disappeared from her cooking sphere for a moment, taking the glasses to the table. A minute later she followed behind with each of their plates.

Allowing Cady to set the plates down, Pete quickly pulled her to him. She squeaked slightly yet smiled before he kissed her. There was a greater urgency and dominance in his kiss, something she wasn’t quite expecting. But it didn’t bother her at all either. She had felt his eyes on her while she cooked and had struggled to stop his kisses and touches or else ruin their dinner. Just the thought of him touching her made her head spin.

Pulling from the kiss, her eyes met his, “That was quite the appetizer, Mr. Townshend.”

“The night is very young, Miss Kersey,” he responded.

“Then I suspect we’re going to need the energy from dinner to make it through.”

He chuckled, releasing her, “Absolutely. And I would not let your hard work go to waste.”