Darker by Ashe Barker

his gorgeous face between my palms and kiss him again, deeply. He is badly in need of a shave and the stubble is scratchy, sexy. I lift my head to look into his twinkling, dark chocolate eyes, and he winks at me.
    “Nice nap, Miss Byrne?”
    “Mmm, lovely. What now? What are we doing today?”
    “Chilling. Watching the Olympics. Care to join me?” He shifts me around so I am lying alongside him on the settee, our legs intertwined.
    “Sounds great. Mind if I get a cup of tea and a snack first, though? I’m starving.”
    “Is that a hint I’m not looking after you properly, Miss Byrne? Stay there.” He pushes easily to his feet and heads over to the kitchen.
    “I didn’t mean… I didn’t want to disturb you. I can get my own tea.”
    “If you’re feeling energetic get the guitar and show me how well you can play it. I fancy another of your private little concerts, Miss Byrne. Then I might have to jump your bones again, sadly. Can’t be helped. You’re very, very sexy when you play, do you know that?” He tosses the careless compliments back over his shoulder as he grabs a couple of mugs from a cupboard and fills the kettle.
    Always in my element when playing music, whatever the instrument, I’m happy to comply. I look around for the guitar and spot it still propped against the kitchen worktop where I left it. I scramble off the settee and fetch it. Coming back, I perch on the edge of the settee, cradling the instrument across my knees, strumming lightly and listening to the tone. Instinctively I turn the tuning keys ever so slightly, quite unnecessarily as I tuned it only a couple of hours or so ago. Nathan comes back, placing a tray on the coffee table in front of me, carrying two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of chocolate Bourbon biscuits.
    “My favourites.” He smiles, nibbling on one as he sits on the settee opposite me, leaning back to enjoy my performance.
    “Any requests?” I ask, glancing across at him, remembering that first time I played for him, in the kitchen at Black Combe. His answer is the same now as it had been then. “No. You choose.”
    I nod, and strum a few experimental chords before picking up the old Ralph McTell classic, Streets of London. Never much of a singer I hum along, bending over the instrument, rocking slightly and glancing up from time to time to find his attention unwavering, fixed on me. When I finish I sit back, smiling. I’m not an especially accomplished guitarist, not by my normal standards, but I can get by well enough. And I love music, I just love playing, whatever the instrument.
    Nathan clearly appreciates my efforts. “As ever, Miss Byrne, you impress me. I get hard just looking at you with an instrument in your hands. Particularly mine.” He winks. “Maybe you could give me guitar lessons. And did I mention how very sexy you are when you’re performing for me? That first time, when you played Bolero, it was all I could do not to fuck you senseless there and then. Interesting choice of music that night, I must say. Very sensual, provocative. I rather thought you might be gagging for it. I was, definitely. But with Rosie and Grace there, I thought best not…”
    Entering into the spirit I return the banter. “Pity. I can see your problem, though. And you’ve so made up for it since.” I grin at him cheekily, loving the suggestive tit-for-tat, another first for me. Then, my curiosity and innate seriousness getting the better of me, I ask the question uppermost in my mind at this moment. “How come you’ve got a guitar, but you don’t play? And a piano?”
    I am puzzled. I just can’t see why anyone would own two such beautiful instruments and never use them. The beautiful piano back at Black Combe graces the large dining room but had stood there untouched, for years I gather, before I got my hands on it.
    “The guitar was a present from my brother. He thought I needed a hobby. And I bought the piano because I like it. It’s a nice thing.” He