A small smirk pulls on the corner of his mouth as he glances over at me. “But why?”
Shrugging, I say, “You talked about how good they were. Wanted to check ’em out for myself.”
Ash walks over to the dry bar, grabbing a beer out of the mini fridge before he sits on the edge of the couch. “And? What’s the verdict, grandpa?”
“Grandpa?”
“Yeah, you’ve got the music taste of a grandpa.”
“Hardly,” I scoff.
“Answer the question.” Holding my gaze, he brings the bottle to his lips and takes a long pull.
“Not bad,” I reply nonchalantly, chuckling when his face scrunches up.
“Not bad?” he parrots, disapproval lacing the two words. “Sleep Token is way more thannot bad. They take everything you thought you knew about music and make it sound familiar while simultaneously turning it upside down in the most unexpected and beautiful way. Listening to their albums from start to finish will not only tell you a story, but have your emotions being pulled in every direction. It will exhaust you in the best way possible.”
The depth with which he talks about this band is adorable, but also impressive.
“They will have you feeling happiness, sadness, anger, and even tears. Their music will thrust a hand into your chest and rip out your heart, all while you say thank you.” He exhales a heavy breath before he finishes with, “They’re so much more thannot bad.”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. His passion is a turn-on. “Okay, I’m sorry.” Holding my hands up, I add, “You’re right. Their music is incredible. I’ve enjoyed listenin’ to it all evenin’.”
Brow cocked, Ash studies me for a moment. “Really?” he drawls, voice full of skepticism.
“Yes.” I nod. “I bought a couple of their records, actually.”
“You did? Which ones?” Rising off the couch, he walks over to my collection of records, and I move to do the same.
Standing this close to him, I can easily inhale the fresh, rich scent of him. Images flash through my mind of the night we shared, then the next morning. The way his skin smelled, the way it tasted. The way his lips felt when we kissed. And the sounds he made. Goosebumps raise on my arms, remembering the whimpering, the moaning, the deep-throated groans. I’ve replayed those memories every single day since, wanting nothing more than to repeat them, to do more.
I want to do things with Ash that I never imagined I’d want to do with any man. I want to know what his cum tastes like, how it feels to sink into his sweet ass, and maybe even how it feels to have him do the same to me.Would I let him do that? Would I like it?I think the answer to both might be yes, and that thought sends a flutter through my stomach.
“This is a great album,” Ash mutters, holding up one of the record cases as he flicks his mismatched gaze to mine.
“Maybe we can listen to that one tomorrow night,” I suggest. “And you can tell me your favorite songs.”
He sets the record back where he found it before turning to face me, crossing his arms over his chest and watching me with a weary look. “What’s going on with you?”
I breathe out a chuckle. “What do ya mean?”
“I mean, you’re all…” Ash waves a hand toward me, seemingly trying to find his words. “Friendly tonight. It’s weird.”
“Weird, huh?” Amusement fills me as I watch his brow furrow.
“Yeah. What’s gotten into you?”
Taking a step toward him, Ash sucks in a breath. “You,” I reply, voice deep and gravelly. “You’ve gotten into my head, and I can’t seem to get you out.”
His throat bobs on a swallow. “Is that so?”
“Mmhmmm.” I take another step, putting me nearly flush with him. We’re so close I can feel the heat from his breath. See the way his pupils dilate. “And it’s a little annoying, since you seem to be doing everything in your power to ignore me.”
“That’s not true,” he rasps.
“Bullshit.”
Gaze dancing between my eyes and my mouth, Ash says, “We’ve both been busy.”
