Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91299 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
His voice picks up and sings the chorus, about a guy who keeps seeing the girl he broke up with. He sees her everywhere—in her Maxima—and he thought he’d get over her, but he…doesn’t. His small town is closing in on him. He needs to get away.
He sings the last note, and I suck in a breath and try, try to push down my feelings for him.
“Have you had lessons?”
He pats the guitar. “I just pick it up fast. It’s the same with a piano. I may not get the tune right away, but I usually do pretty quick.”
“Blaze…that’s amazing.”
He blushes. “Yeah? When I went to church with my aunt and uncle, I would play when no one was around.”
“What song was that?”
“Sam Hunt, ‘Break Up in a Small Town’.”
“Don’t know who that is, but you’re better than he’ll ever be.”
He laughs and looks down.
“Play something else.” Please. I want to wipe that song out of my head, because it felt like…us.
“You like Peter Gabriel?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Here’s ‘In Your Eyes’.” He hangs his head, his fingers on the strings again, the soft way he strokes them making me sigh. He raises his head and sings the words, the sculpted lines of his face drawn with intensity as he works the guitar with perfect precision. The beat picks up, and he stands and plays, his hips swaying just a little with the beat of the tune.
He ends the song, and there’s a heavy silence. All I can do is stare at him. My chest feels incredibly tight.
“That’s the song John Cusack plays on his boombox to get the girl in Say Anything,” I say.
His eyes flicker. “Is it?”
I close my eyes. It is, and he knows it. “It’s your favorite movie.”
“Ah, guess you got me there.” He looks down and stares at the guitar.
I want to hold him. And I shouldn’t.
“I never knew you played and sang. I guess you do that for girls all the time.” Emotion rises in my throat and I battle it down, but it seems as if I can’t. “Your voice, it…it makes me want to cry.”
“Don’t do that. I can’t take it when you cry.” He sets the guitar down and comes back to me. His fingers brush at my cheeks, and I realize there are tears on my face. “I’ve never sang a song for a girl. Not like this. Never.”
Oh. I push his hands away and wipe my face, feeling color rising on my cheeks. I mutter, “It’s those meds. They make me loopy.”
“Just the meds? Maybe it’s something else.” His eyes are on my face, reading me, and whatever he sees there is enough for him to get on his knees in front of me. His hand goes around my nape and palms my scalp underneath my hair.
“Is it okay to do this? As a friend?” he asks softly.
Breathing faster, I lean into his hand. “Yes. Thank you for the song, for taking care of me.”
Before I can focus too hard on the repercussions, I trace his lips, outlining the fullness. There’s a slight indentation in the center of his bottom lip, and I press my finger there.
He closes his eyes. “Charm?”
I freeze, feeling self-conscious. What am I doing?
He’s here being kind, and I’m…out of control.
“Do you want me to stop?” I say.
“No.” His tongue darts out, licks my finger, and then he bites it, sucking it into his mouth. I can’t breathe, watching his mouth pull on me, until it feels like my body is hardwired to his tongue, everything sparking alive, nipples, my core, all of it connected to his sinewy wetness. He sucks me, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.
He lets my finger go slowly, with a soft pop.
He moves back to staring at me, his pupils large, dark, and focused on me.
My body tightens. I know that look. I recognize that heat and desire. I feel it too, every time he’s close to me. Goose bumps sprinkle over my skin, a buzz in my bloodstream…
He stands and paces around the room, his hand in a fist as he puts it to his mouth.
“Come back,” I whisper.
He stops and looks at me.
“If I come back…I don’t think I can resist touching you.”
“Okay.”
He inhales sharply, walks over to me, and gets back on his knees. “I want your mouth, but you don’t like kissing.”
I love kissing, but if I do that with him right now, I’m lost, and he’s already ripped me apart once, so goddamn hard. I can’t go there again—
As if he senses my reticence, he lets out a deep breath, looks away, and stares at the fan, watching it twirl.
“Blaze…” I don’t know what I’m going to say.
He nods, almost as if to himself, and turns back to me. I press a kiss to his palm and press it to my face. I can’t not—even though it’s going to haunt me later.