Then he opened his eyes fully and met mine. Across the whole bar, he found me in an instant. He spoke of leaving and not being what was needed. Then there was that chorus. He absolutely belted it out, never breaking my gaze as his whole body poured itself into those notes.
My heart beat itself against my chest, as if it was trying to crawl to him.
If people were looking to see who he sang to, I didn’t notice. I only saw him. I only heard him. His eyes never left mine for the rest of the song. Each lyric felt more powerfully poignant and heartbreaking in connection to the conversation we had just had.
At the climax, he nailed the highest note, and the whole bar lost their minds. I felt tears burning my eyes.
“Phew, thank you,” he said at the end, panting slightly, his voice now hoarse from those high notes.
They tried to get him to do another, but he just shook his head shyly, tugged his hat back on, and made his way to me.
His voice had cracked open a truth in me that couldn’t be put back together. I wasn’t drunk. I wasn’t lying to myself.
I was just a woman who wanted this gorgeous man. My whole body was electric from the energy of his voice, his looks, and months and months of casual touches. If I thought one stray secret orgasm would ever be enough, I was the idiot. I needed to be run through, torn apart, and used until I couldn’t move. I needed him in me. Over me. Biting, tugging, pulling.
He came back to the bar. I had been lost in thought. I couldn’t sit still.
“We need to go back to George’s,” I said.
“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” He glanced around where a few people were staring in our direction, but I saw none of them. Nothing else mattered.
When he looked back to me, something was written all over my features that made my intentions clear.
“Anytime?” I asked. I didn’t need to clarify.
His gaze darkened.
“Let’s go.” He rubbed a hand over his face before throwing down cash for the tab.
