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Her words began stitching pieces of himself that had torn and ragged. He kissed her again, on the shoulder this time, and was finally given the release of sleep.
His dreams were blue, oceans of immeasurable depths and mountains upon mountains of sapphires.
CHAPTER12
She knew before coming fully awake that Ramiro's head rested on her chest, his arm and leg clutching her as if she were a lifeline. Her eyes opened, staring sleepily at the pale beams of light streaming through the gap where the drapes had not been pulled wholly closed. Then she looked at the golden head resting between her breasts.
She saw a thick and golden still, now sprinkled with silver in some, tentatively touching them with her fingertips. They felt like silk threads, something to be envied, she thought, her touch acquiring some sureness.
Ramiro let out a breath, and she stilled. He surprised her by murmuring, "Don't stop."
She didn't know if he was awake or dreaming, but she did as she asked.
As she stroked his hair, her mind reeled back to what had been written about Ramiro and what she knew first-hand. He was a tough nut to crack, check. Interviews and profiles that claimed to be in-depth could only get to the heart of Ramiro Brandt. His lyrics showed a man of intelligence but cynical towards the establishment in many things. Interviewing Ramiro was almost disappointing because the things he sang about were precisely what he was. Though he never went on record to explicitly say which songs were directly inspired by personal events, it was well-known that he did get a lot from his life.
In private, Ramiro was more interesting and compelling. He relaxed, and he looked years younger. His in-born snark drove them up the wall, but you could never accuse him of being deceiving. He said exactly what he thought, whether it pleased you or not. But way past that veneer of smug impenetrability was a vulnerable man paralyzed at times by genuine fear.
He constantly worried about disappointing people. Carmen remembered how he couldn't relax during those crucial minutes before a show because Temperance would complain that he was addicted to applause and glory. He never had time for her anymore. Carmen saw that Temperance was disturbingly possessive of Ramiro to the extent that if she had her way, she would manage his career so they were never apart. Robin said they had always been close and bonded even more at the death of their mother. She was sorry for all the time she saw Ramiro conflicted when Temperance pressured him to cut back on performances. Also, the band pressed him to concentrate on them.
Now Temperance was gone.
It was terrible to be glad that someone was dead, no matter how vile she was. Ramiro cared for his sister, protected her, loved her, and took her dead hard. Though he had long dreamed of being free of her, it never crossed his mind that her violent death would pave the way. And if they were that close, Carmen could understand why he did the things he did. She wasn't herself when her father died, as well. At eighteen years old, she lost the one she loved the most.
Ramiro seemed to have forgiven her for abandoning him at his lowest moment. Carmen hoped so, else why did he write to her? Why was he here? And now, trusting her to give him comfort no matter how small. Ramiro tends to ask for so little of himself.
For the first time since telling him the news about Seismic, she realized just how alone he was.
His father, the feared businessman Scott, disowned him for being in a band instead of finishing school. Only when Ramiro proved he could attain success on his own did father and son begin to see each other. Still, he told Carmen he couldn't really forgive his father. Robin at least understood and supported his brother. Still, he wasn't there during the first days of Seismic, those moments when surrendering was the easiest and the best option. Ramiro found himself in music, and it shaped who he was. Now that the band he lived for was gone, Carmen worried he might lose his way again.
Or worse.
She embraced him. To herself, she vowed to never abandon him again.
Ramiro, still half-asleep, sighed and burrowed deeper. He nuzzled her breasts, drawing a soft moan from her. She stiffened, embarrassed by her response. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to disappear as she felt Ramiro move, his actions surer and firmer until she felt him leaning up and looking at her.
"Will you let me?"
Startled, her eyes flew open.
He was looking at her with a grave expression as if about to reveal something life-shattering to her. Up close, she saw the lines around his eyes that weren't there a year before. The graceful, natural arch of his eyebrows was more silver. Before she knew what was happening, her hand climbed to his cheek to see the rasp of the stubble. She bit her lip, and she saw his tongue licking his lips. He had gone still as she touched his face.
"You were not this old last year," she said, making a face at how stupid the words sounded.
He smirked as her thumb skated on the groove next to his lips. "Iamolder."
"You have silver. Here," she touched his beard, his eyebrow. "Here." Then her fingers slid through his hair. "Here. At the top. And only seen when I'm like this."
He turned his head as her hand lowered to touch the other side of his face. His breath was warm and shaky. "When you're in my arms?"
She traced his eyebrow. "You're in my arms, Ramiro."
His smile was brighter than the sun entering the room.
"I'm so sorry about last night."
"Damn it, minx. Stop apologizing." Ramiro kissed her fingers and moved. Carmen moved too, shifting and spreading her legs until he settled between them. He grinned at the pink spots spreading across her cheeks as his hardened cock nudged at her. "You didn't end Seismic. You fought to put us back together."
She dropped her hand and looked away. "I failed."
