No Strings Attached

by Erin Lark

* * * * *

No Strings Attached

Copyright © 2016 Erin Lark

Cover art © 2016 Erin Lark

No Strings Attached
is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All organizations, places, and events are created from the author's imagination.

S
econd chances were never meant to be ignored.

After six years of being someone else's plaything, a simple, no strings attached relationship is just what Moyra needs.

But when she's kicked to the curb to keep one stranger's cheating a secret, she's taken in by another.

Only this one's no stranger at all. High school crush Thayre is the last thing Moyra needs. They have a history, which means expectations and more than enough strings to last a lifetime. Unfortunately for her, this isn't the first time their paths have crossed in one night, and by the look of things, Thayre isn't going away anytime soon.

Could one town be too small for the both of them, or will Moyra's days of crushing on Thayre be enough to ignite old flames?

Excerpt:

Wearing something that was a little more acceptable than a teddy for practice, I did my best to keep from pacing. In my mind, I tried going over the sheet music I'd played for him, but without a violin, and with way too many thoughts vying for my attention, keeping my focus on one song was impossible.

Like last time, I buzzed him in, surprised when he reached my apartment door in record time, clearly out of breath.

“Took the stairs,” he explained once I'd let him in, crushing his lips to mine a second later.

Something tingled at the base of my spine, and I moaned into his hungry, desperate kiss. He kicked the door shut behind him, and without taking a breath, we edged toward my bedroom. I groaned as my hip hit against a wall. We may have stumbled, but soon we were moving again. I grabbed his lapels. At the back of his shirt.

He broke our kiss the moment we reached my room. “I was going to do this after practice,” he breathed, his voice not nearly as level as I'd expected, “but I don't think I can stand waiting that long.” He kissed me again. Harder. Hard enough to pull all the air from my lungs.

“What...” I tested my voice and tried again. “What happened to that dynamic you were talking about?”

He pushed me through the doorway, toward the center of the room. “I'm getting there.” And in that same instant, he drew away from me, leaving me flustered and off balance. “Strip. Take everything off.
Now.
”

With pleasure.
He didn't ask me to remove his clothing, and when I looked at him, he was getting undressed as fast as I was. Shirt, slacks, shoes—everything landed on the floor in a jumbled mess, and it took every bit of willpower I had not to walk over to him and fall into his arms.

* * * * *

I
t's official.
I was done with men.

After spending the last six years of my life with a Dom who was more interested in his video games and tonight's one-night stand that turned out to be a cheating husband, I was done. They could all go to hell. Every last one of them.

Tonight wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't raining.

I held my arms around myself and did my best to keep under the few trees lining the side of the street, but they didn't help. At this point, I could've walked home and it wouldn't have made a difference, but the menacing clouds above me promised a lot more than rain.

It was still cold enough for snow, so I headed for the nearest bus stop. At least the waiting area was covered. Not that I planned on taking the bus to Philly, but sitting next to full ashtrays out of the rain was a lot better than the alternative. 

I sat on the bench and shivered as a drop of water trickled under my hair and down the nape of my neck. I regretted not pulling my hair up before I left the house so it didn't become a tattered mess by the time I got home.
So much for that.
Not to mention my entire night. Here it was, not even nine o'clock, and I was stuck in the rain, on the other side of town.

Sure, I could've hopped into another bar, but who the hell would've hit on me when I was soaking wet? If it were summer, I probably could've gotten away with a wet t-shirt joke, but not when there were so many layers between myself and the elements.

The sound of footsteps sloshing through puddles forced me to lift my head and shift over on the bench so the newcomer could sit. I froze when I came face to face with the same man I'd been ogling at the bar.
Thayre.

Most of the men I'd seen earlier that evening had either been visually unattractive, well out of my age range or already busy trying to get a woman drunk enough to take her home.

That is until I checked the far corner of the room. My breath caught, and I'd had to do a double-take, but yes, the man was someone I knew. Worse yet, he was the one man I would've cut off my left foot for just a chance at him.

His hair was longer than I remembered, but everything else about him was the same. Dark brown hair, six or so feet of toned muscle with a side of intense blue eyes? Sign me up!

And now, here he was again, at the same bus stop I'd crawled to in hopes of getting dry.

I'm not sure how long I sat there staring at him before he settled beside me. And seeing him under the gentle lamplight outside of the bar caused my blood pressure to go up a notch.

He shook off his umbrella in front of us, closed it and then grinned at me. “Beautiful night, isn't it?”

I forced a smile. “If you don't count the rain, sure.”

Small talk.
After so long, I couldn't expect much else. Not that I wouldn't have liked to fall into easy conversation with him, but we hadn't spoken in years.

“You do realize the buses don't run this late, right?” he asked, shrugging out of his coat before gesturing for me to sit away from the bench.

“It's okay. I'm fine,” I said, my teeth chattering around the words.

“Liar.” Thayre's expression softened, and he closed his coat around me. “You're shivering.”

I shuddered and hugged the extra layer around myself. “Thanks.”

“Mind telling me why you're out here?” He licked his bottom lip and opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it.

I sighed and looked at the rain to keep my mind off of how badly I wanted to kiss him. In high school, we'd been platonic, but that didn't mean there hadn't been some chemistry between us. The main reason we kept each other at arm's length was either because one of us was dating someone else or to honor the friendship we already had.

I may have been single, but there was no way for me to know if he was as well, so I kept to myself.

“You saw me at the bar earlier.” It wasn't a question.

“I did. Thought you left with someone.”

I frowned and glanced in his direction. “Yeah, about that... Turns out he wasn't my type.”
Not to mention married.

“And sitting at the bus stop until morning is a good idea?”

I shrugged. “It got me out of the rain, didn't it?”

“Yeah, but going into a restaurant would've meant you were dry
and
warm. Or well, you'd get dry.”

“Looking like this? No respectable restaurant would've let me in, and the fast food joints are on the other side of town.”

“Then why not come with me?” He patted down the air. “Relax, I'm honestly not trying to hit on you. But you might want to get out of the rain and into something warm before going home. Besides, this isn't supposed to let up until tomorrow morning sometime.”

I exhaled and eyed the cloud of breath that passed through my lips. “Of course it isn't.”

He passed me a reassuring smile, stood, then opened his umbrella. “Come on. My place isn't far from here.”

* * * * *

A
fter taking a warm shower and changing into an orchestra t-shirt along with a pair of sweatpants Thayre had let me borrow, I joined him in his living room. He was sitting on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him.

“No strings. I promise,” he said as he leaned forward to pick a mug off the coffee table. “You still like hot chocolate I hope.”

I smiled. In high school, there were nights we spent playing our violins for band rehearsals until we could no longer read the sheet music, and even then, we knew most of what we were playing by heart. But this wasn't high school, and it wasn't music. Aside from the t-shirt he'd let me borrow, I couldn't say if he played anymore or not. And if he did, I hadn't for years.

Nerves aside, I sat on the other end of the sofa and accepted the warm mug when he passed it to me. Then, after looking at the cocoa, I grinned. “Aw, you remembered.”

“Marshmallows?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “It's the only way I'll make it, even if they do melt before it's cool enough to drink. Oh, and I put your things in the dryer, so we have about half an hour to kill until they're ready.”

“Thanks for that. And this.” I lifted the mug to my lips and took the first sip.  “I don't mean to pry but,” I met his gaze and wet my lips, “what were you doing at a bar anyway? I didn't think you were the type.”

Ever since I'd known him, he'd never been much of a drinker. Maybe socially, but he was pretty tame the last time I saw him.

“Just having some drinks with a few guys from work.”

“Oh...” I guess that made sense. If not, the suit he wore did. They probably went right after work. “You already know why I was there.”

He dipped his head but didn't mock me. “Not as easy dating at our age compared to the way things were in high school, huh?”

I rolled my eyes and set my mug on the table. “Tell me about it. What the hell is wrong with the thirties crowd anyway?”

He cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” What did I mean? “Well...” I sighed.

“Relax. I'm not interrogating you. I'm curious as to why you think our age group is so bad.”

“The guy I left with tonight?” He nodded for me to continue. “He has a wife.”

“No shit. Damn, I'm sorry, Moyra. But they all can't be that bad, can they?”

I shifted on the sofa. “Worse. I swear, a lot of them are either taking lessons from the wrong women or none at all. Freaking clueless.”

He laughed.

“What?”

“You still sensor yourself. It's okay to say fuck. I don't mind.”

“I didn't even notice I was censoring.”

“You are.”

“Well, fuck.”

“There you go!”

Good God, you have an amazing smile.
We might not have talked much in the last twelve years, but even now, I was comfortable around him. In fact, I could probably fall into easy conversation with him more than anyone else. After spending most of junior high and high school playing music together, there was a lot I could work with, but where to start?

I inspected the shirt he'd lent me and figured it was as good a conversation starter as any. “Transcendence Orchestra?”

His face lit up and I could've sworn his smile reached from ear to ear. “My pride and joy.”

I blinked. “You still play?”

“More than that.” He straightened his posture and, oh my God, he puffed out his chest. “I conduct it.”

“Y-you what? Seriously?”

His grin widened. “Yup. I've been conducting for...” He frowned. “Eight years now. You seem surprised.”

I shook my head. “No. I mean, I am, but—how the hell do you even get into something like that?”

“Purely by chance, and maybe a bit of luck.” He rolled his head from one side to the other, possibly to get rid of a kink that was in his neck. “During my early years of college, I decided to work on a double major in music performance and business. And when I wasn't studying, I tried to find some way
locally
to play in a group—work my way up to the big leagues, you know?” He sighed. “Anyway, the groups that existed at the time were orchestra related, and while it is called Transcendence Orchestra, it's more like rock mixed with broadway and a pinch of the classics. So, once I found what I was looking for, I decided to start a group on my own. Ended up requesting time in the old band room at West. One string quartet turned into two, and once word-of-mouth spread, I realized I was spending more time writing music and scheduling rehearsals than doing homework. Been doing it ever since.”

“Did you finish school?”

“I did, but only after I finished my Masters, and even then, I took up classes on marketing, accounting and whatever else I thought we'd need.”

“Wow. So, if you're a conductor, does that mean you stopped playing your violin?”

“I play as much as anyone else. The violin, cello and just about every other stringed instrument. It comes with the territory anyway. Or rather, I think it does. It helps to know as many of the instruments as I can. If someone is out of tune, I can give them an idea of what I want and not lose something important because of poor communication on my part.”

“So playing for the Philadelphia Orchestra is out, huh? It's all you talked about in high school.”