Although he’s been encouraging me the past four weeks to sing in front of him, I always find it difficult. I hate performing in front of anyone—even my parents. In an attempt to curb my panic, Slater stood behind me, acting as if he wasn’t even in the room. As each day went on, he slowly moved to stand in front of me. I’ve been able to sing in front of him the past two weeks, but tonight is different. For one, we’re in a karaoke bar, and two, we’re here with his bandmates. Noah included.
I have my back facing the stage. Slater thought my nerves would be kept at bay if I couldn’t see the faces of those surrounding me. It appears to have worked. It’s as if it is just a country girl belting out a tune to the man she knows without a doubt is her Romeo.
When the song finishes, the bar plunges into awkward silence, and my heart plummets into my gut.Silence isn’t good, is it?Slater smirks at my pale face before he motions for me to turn around. I crank only my head, fearful of what the crowd’s reaction might be. I’m surprised when I spot numerous smiling faces. Even a handful have gaping mouths. When they erupt into a huge, roaring chant, I jump out of my skin. Their claps are as thunderous as my heart colliding with my ribs.
“You did it,” Slater mutters into my ear, his pride unmissable. “Do you want to sing another song?”
I shake my head. “I’m so nervous, I can’t guarantee I won’t pass out, or even worse, hurl on the shiny, polished stage.”
Slater makes a disappointed face before curling his hand around mine. As he walks us back to the booth his band members are seated in, several strangers offer up words of encouragement. Noah stares at me with wide eyes when I slide into the black leather booth across from him but remains quiet.
When Nick dumps an array of shot glasses down in front of us, I pick up the closest one and slam it down, needing some more liquid courage to hear the words I see in Noah’s eyes. He’s the main reason I was so nervous. Having an amateur watch me sing is bad enough, let alone a professional. When Noah sings—my god, I get goose bumps. His voice is one of the most talented I’ve ever heard.
“Fuck, Kylie. You can really sing.”
My eyes rocket to Noah’s, shock marring my face. Those were not the words I expected to hear.
Slater squeezes my thigh as if to sayI told you you’re good.
“You have a gift.” Noah smiles a big beaming grin. “Unless you want it exploited, you better hide that fact from Cormack.”
Slater laughs off his worry. “If Kylie wants to sing, I’ll support her all the way.” His eyes stray to me, full of unvoiced pride. “Is that something you want, baby?”
I shake my head, more than happy to have one musician in our relationship. I only performed tonight because Slater handed me shots, left, right, and center since we arrived, knowing I’d never have the courage to go on stage without being tipsy.
Slater squeezes my thigh again. “If you change your mind, let me know.”
With a wink that says way more than his words ever could, he plucks two shots of tequila from a pile of many before raising my hand to his mouth. “Now where were we before you fuckin’ killed it on stage?”
* * *
The next morning, I’m awoken by a deliciously sugary scent. While groaning, I sluggishly open my eyes. The wetness in my mouth triples when I drink in every inch of the glorious visual in front of me. Slater is barefoot, shirtless, and smirking. The top button of his jeans is undone, revealing the most spectacular V muscle I’ve ever seen, and his shoulder is propped against the doorframe, meaning his sexy tattooed biceps are exposed for my ravenous eyes to devour.
I’d take a few more minutes to drink in the stimulating visual if I hadn’t spotted the article responsible for the sugary scent lingering in the air. He’s holding a large glazed jam donut. It’s a standard donut you’d pick up at any donut shop, but it has a lit candle in the middle of it.
“Happy birthday, baby.” Slater pushes off the doorjamb and sexily saunters my way. When he lowers the donut so I can blow out the candle, I do, albeit hesitantly. Today isn’t my birthday, so I’m a little lost on how to reply.
With my head still woozy from the shots we shared last night—some directly from the ridge I was admiring earlier—I gingerly murmur, “It’s not my birthday until next month.”
I hate hurting his feelings. He has the date right; he just mixed up the month I was born, but wouldn’t it be more awkward if I left him believing he had the right date?
“I know that.” His chuckle makes me hot all over. “But we’ll be on the road by then, so I won’t be able to give your gift until we returned. I figured you’d rather have it early than late.”
I nod, agreeing with him. He’s not the only impatient one in our duo. When he pops a large chunk of donut in my mouth, a long, salivating moan vibrates from my lips. The glaze is delicious. “Holy fuck.”
While Slater adjusts his crotch, I help myself to another large chunk, moaning even louder this time around. As I lick the sugary goodness from my lips, my eyes float up to Slater’s heavy-hooded gaze. “Do you want a taste?”
When he nods, I move to a kneeling position, tear off a generous portion, then arrow it toward his scrumptious lips. He opens his mouth in preparation for a taste, but he’s left hanging when I issue him a cheeky wink before shoving his share of the donut into my mouth.
“Hey—”
His protest is cut off when I press my lips to his. When my tongue delves into his mouth, which tastes delicious with a hint of coffee and toothpaste, my knees scrape along the sheets. I thought I was laying a trap, not getting snared by one.
When I tug Slater forward by his unbuttoned waistband, he pulls back. “We can’t.” He licks his lips, getting every drop of glaze I missed before heading to the walk-in closet. Like it could get any worse, he covers his chest by throwing on a shirt.
He grins, loving my whine, while handing me a pair of my jeans and a shirt from my side of the closet. I nearly toss them to the side, but the excited delivery of his next set of words stops me. “Time for presents.”
I bound out of bed, throw on the clothes he supplied me, then rush into the bathroom to brush my teeth, grimacing when I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is a ragged mess, and my eyes have dark circles from a lack of sleep, but thankfully, the love sparkling in them offers a distraction from their tired appearance.
