“I’m not very good at sex talk.”
“That’s okay. I just… like your voice,” I murmured.
“You’re cute,” Felix blurted out before laughing. “Shit.”
“Keep going.”
“Your skin looks so soft… I wish I was touching it right now.”
“I wish you were too.”
I stroked faster. I hadn’t noticed when my heartbeat sped up or when I’d begun panting. I’d been so hyperfocused on every word Felix said—dazzled by the drizzling of amber color as it leached across my vision until everything was honey.
“You sound close,” he murmured.
“I am. Don’t stop talking.”
“I want to kiss your mouth until your lips are swollen and your cheeks are flushed pink.”
“Yes…,” I moaned.
And my orgasm hit me like the beats of Alan Walker’s dance music—hard and fierce and full of life. I cried into the phone as release tore me apart like an explosion of a million stars. When I gasped for air, I heard the distant but distinct sound of Felix muffling his own release.
“Jesus,” he said after a long minute.
I looked at my sticky, tacky hand. “Bowenis fine.”
He tried to laugh, but it sounded like heavy breaths. “I don’t do sexy talk well.”
“Believe me, hearing your voice was all I needed.” I was too sated to get up and just wiped my hand clean on the corner of the sheet. “You sound amber.”
“Come again?”
“No, nothing,” I said, chuckling. Synesthesia was best explained in person, because I knew from experience that it could sound totally kooky and unbelievable. “I guess we both should go.”
“Probably.”
I smiled at the ceiling. “Good night again.”
“Sleep well, Bo.”
Chapter Four
20 Days Until Christmas
AN ADVANTAGEto being a band director was that I now had a professional space in which to rehearse and further my own skills. Doing a run-through of the chosen Christmas pieces on my cello in the music room was acoustically so much better than, say, my living room. The downside to all this was that I’d never been a decent morning person, and now I had a job that expected me to roll in by seven thirty. Even earlier if I wanted to practice in the band room alone before students arrived to begin warm-ups prior the bell.
I set my bow on the music stand and took a sip of coffee from my thermos after playing “Twelve Days of Christmas” for what had to be the first time in nearly a decade. Not a difficult piece by any stretch of the imagination, but suitable for high school, and I figured if I didn’t have a few notable works for the audience to recognize by ear alone, there would be a mixture of dreadfully bored and irritated parents by the end of the concert. I wanted neither, naturally.
Parents.
I was going on a date tonight with a parent.
I took another sip of coffee.
Also I’d had phone sex with him.
I should probably tell Scarlet about this….
