“Mm-hmm,”she nodded, crossing her arms.
“Butyou still chose to indulge me, huh?” I cocked a brow.
Shesighed and lifted her gaze to the air, listening. “I love this song,” she mentionedlightly, ignoring my comment.
“Whodoesn’t?” I nodded, lifting my lips into a lopsided smile, as “Everlong” filteredthrough the air. “It’s my absolute favorite.”
“Toplay, or to listen to?”
“Both.”I smiled as I reached to the side and grabbed a chair from the corner of theroom, pulling it over and patting the seat. “Come. Sit.”
Tabbyeyed me intently as I stopped the song with the remote and got it ready to playagain, pausing while I waited for her to situate herself. I expected her togingerly sit herself down, crossing her legs and folding her hands in her lap.But she all but shocked the shit out of me when she kicked off her Converse andpulled her knees to her chest, perching her feet at the edge of the seat. Hertoenails were red and black.
“Thoseare my favorite colors.” I tapped the end of one stick to her biggest toe, andshe hid her smile behind her knee as she nearly whispered, “Mine too.”
Grabbingthe remote again, I pressed play, holding her gaze as the first guitar notesdrifted through the speakers and I positioned my sticks, waiting for my cue. Icould practically play this song in my sleep—it’d been one of my most-used sinceits release in ’97—and I was able to drift along through the heat of her gazeduring those first few hits of the hi-hat. But after those introductory notes,my music pulled me in and my concentration took over, just as the base drumkicked in.
Igritted my teeth, exercising the muscles in my arms with the tedious taps ofthe hi-hat, broken with the hit against the snare. Each chorus was led with awhip of my hair, banging my head to the beat, as I sang along on autopilot toone of the most romantic songs I’ve ever known. And, with every kick of the bassand beat of a tom, I felt her eyes on me.
Itwasn’t until the lull in the song, where all but the guitar stops, that Ilooked back to Tabby. With sweat beading against my forehead and hair in my face,I knew exactly how I looked, and yet her stare held nothing but the same hungerI’d been feeling all goddamn day. Her feet were now on the floor, as sheteetered closer to the precipice of the chair. Ready to lunge.
Myhands were begging to drop the sticks, to throw them across the room and pullher onto my lap, but I wasn’t going to. This was her call. Whatever she wanted,I would give, but she’d have to tell me first. She’d have to show me. The womanwas so fickle, and I watched her as I finished playing, waiting for the momentwhen she would change her mind.
Itdidn’t come.
Withthe final guitar riff, I laid the sticks onto the snare, and Tabby was on herfeet, her hands reaching out to grasp the sides of my face. The song was onrepeat—it usually was while I practiced—and as it began again, she was tippingmy head back, bending her neck, and pressing her lips to mine faster than I hada chance to react. Her need for control was immediately startling and sofucking refreshing, as her tongue coaxed my mouth open, diving in to acquaintitself with mine and my teeth and the inside of my lips.
Finallycatching up, I responded with a groan. She tasted like whiskey and mint, fireand ice. A perfect combination of what I knew to be her. Reaching for her arms,I pulled her down to straddle my lap and tugged at the band holding her hair inplace. It slipped away and all of that red came undone, cascading over my handsin waves. I thrust my fingers into it. Tangling, twisting, tying myself to heras our mouths opened wider, our tongues delved deeper, and I was almost certainshe could swallow me whole if she tried.
Itwas when Tabby moved her hips against mine that I think her trance was broken.One press of my desperate erection between her legs and she was shaking herhead, unthreading her hands from my hair and moving backward to stand up.
“Weneed to stop,” she abruptly decided.
Iopened my eyes, finding she hadn’t yet, and replied, “Okay.”
“Ishouldn’t be doing this. I … I have my meeting to prepare for,” she proclaimed,making excuses.
Still,I nodded, and still, I sat. “Okay.”
Steppingbackward once more, her eyes still shut and unable to look at me, she nearlyknocked over a cymbal stand. I reached out with an urgent grasp, stopping theteetering chrome from crashing to the floor, and chuckled.
“Easythere, Thumbelina.”
Thatwas when she opened her eyes, now taking me in, and I allowed myself the momentto look at her.Reallylook at her. Her striking emerald eyes and her rubyhair in waves against the smooth pallor of her face. With the black shirt shewore, the tight jeans and the red and black polish on her toes, she looked likea punk-rock Disney princess. With “Everlong” on repeat, I felt that, for thefirst time since meeting her, I was seeing this woman for who she truly was.
Andshe was beautiful.
“W-what?”she stuttered, tangling her fingers together over her stomach.
Ishook my head. “What?” I repeated.
“Whatare you looking at?”
“Youare fucking gorgeous,” I blurted out, without a single care to hold my tongue.I never had before—why start now?
Shakingher head, she pulled her eyes away from mine. “You’re only saying that nowbecause I just made out with you.”
“No,”I protested, grabbing her hands and putting a stop to the nervous twisting.“I’m telling you you’re fucking gorgeous, because you are. The fact that youmade out with me was only a bonus, and it was a good one, but I promise, Tabby,I never say anything I don’t mean.”
