Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“He plays a mean game of tennis. Always goes in for the kill.”
“Now that I can believe.” Kylie snatched a French fry from my tray. “I keep learning new and surprising things about you guys.”
I pushed my tray toward her so she could have some more. “You haven’t known us that long. We’re still learning about you, too. So far, I like what I know. And what I’ve heard.”
That made her blush. It looked good on her peaches-and-cream skin. And as always, her eyes were mesmerizing. In certain lights, they looked almost the same, but other times, it was more than obvious they were different. And both gorgeous.
I lowered my voice and leaned forward. “I know I shouldn’t tease you about that, but it was fucking hot.”
“Yeah, it was,” she admitted, not looking at me.
“Are you up for trying it again sometime?”
“Maybe,” she said. Her body language was pointing toward yes, though. I could tell by the quick breath she took, and the way her chest pushed forward. Plus, there was a hunger in her eyes that didn’t have much to do with my fries.
“I liked listening to you. Everyone sounds different—it’s like with musical instruments. I like hearing the gasps and moans and groans that can only be made by you.”
Her face was still flushed, but a mischievous glint came into her eyes. “So you like listening to me more than Mason?”
I laughed. “Definitely. To be fair, though, we’ve been roommates many times over, so the sounds he makes are old news. Much more fun to listen to a cute blonde gasping and moaning on the bed beneath me.”
She tilted her head to the side. “I thought you men were supposed to be all about the visual.”
I shrugged. “I’m a musician, remember?”
After that, we talked about more neutral topics, such as our plans after graduate school. On the way back to the suite, however, I asked her for a favor. “See if you can get Parker to come with you to the bar tonight. He needs to get out more.”
“No argument there,” she said. “Has he come to your shows in the past?”
“Show might be a little strong for what you’re going to see,” I said with a wince. “Might be best to keep your expectations low.”
She gave me a bright smile that made my blood speed up—and head south. “I’m expecting to see my friend play music. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Good. And yeah, Parker’s come before. So remind him of that and drag his ass there if you have to.”
“Will do.”
She headed back to her study spot, and I took a moment to watch her go. She had such a damn pretty smile.
As I watched, she kicked off her sandals, and I admitted it to myself. Every part of her was pretty.
Pretty and then some.
It felt good to be on stage. Even a small, no-thrills stage in a dive bar. But this was where I could be myself. Not a student. Not a teacher. Just myself, or sometimes even a wilder, freer version of myself.
The crowd was the usual for Saturday night. A lot of drunk students, most of them old enough to be here, but the staff at the Dancing Horse wasn’t exactly known for adherence to ID checks. Or adherence to any sound practices for bars. Some townies came, too. One woman, obviously too old to be a student, had already sauntered up and hit on me while we were warming up. When she didn’t get the attention she wanted, she moved on to Dave, the base player. Then Frank, the keyboardist. Only Mimi was spared her drunken flirtations.
We were halfway through our first set which was mostly covers of eighties hits when I spotted Mason at the back of the joint. The music was loud and not half bad, if I did say so myself. We were loosening up. Shaking off the week. Getting into it.
Kylie was by his side, or I assumed she was. There was a space next to him, but she was too short to be seen over the crowd. I’d reserved a table for them, and by some miracle, people had actually left it alone.
Mason barged through the crowd, and I could see now that he had a firm grip on Kylie’s wrist so that she didn’t get lost in the crowd. Parker followed along behind them—I suspected that was Kylie’s doing.
Speaking of Kylie, as she got closer, I could see how great she looked. She had on a sleeveless shirt that had wide straps at her shoulders and then flared out at her hips. In between, there was a generous scoop neck that showed a tantalizing amount of cleavage. And for once, she hadn’t buried her shirt under a sweater the size of Detroit. The shirt was some kind of bronze, shimmery material. Her skinny jeans were ripped at the knee. I couldn’t see her feet from my position, but my guess was she was wearing heels. She looked a few inches taller than usual.