Ezra shook his head. “Nothing about this. I haven’t pried, because I don’t want her to feel like we’re ganging up on her.”
His logic made sense, despite the fact that none of us were happy about being so in the dark about Adeline’s thinking when it came to joining the band.
Cole pushed my food toward me at last. “Two more days. Make them count.”
25
ADELINE
Two more days.
I wasn’t sure I could keep my resolve for that much longer. Every hour spent with Abel, doing what we both loved so much, chipped away at whatever defense I had managed to erect before I agreed to spend a week together.
He picked up on the themes of my lyrics with ease and helped me write choruses that felt as if they were simultaneously being lifted from both of our minds. Despite his eager involvement, he wasn’t a domineering songwriter, and my doubts about him letting me take the lead on the composition were quickly alleviated. The last time we worked together, he’d been driving the process, but now that the roles were reversed, we were working together just as well.
He was respecting my craft and my ability as a songwriter, even though he had many more years of experience and success. It was thrilling to have him sit in my little bedroom with me and offer suggestions on how to take my own music to the next level.
The first thought I had when I woke up in the morning was that I couldn’t wait to work with the rest of the band on completing the songs Abel and I had composed.
This plan of theirs was working.
Abel showed up at nine am sharp, as he’d done the previous three days, and I knew he’d stay until I had to start getting ready for my shift at around four. In an attempt to distract myself and continue to build up my savings, I had picked up more shifts at the bar, with only Friday and Sunday nights off.
He halted as soon as he stepped through the doorway, his eyes catching on my hoodie.
His hoodie.
Shit. I had gotten into the habit of wearing it around the house because of how warm and soft it was, and definitely not because of how it smelled deliciously like him.
“Sorry, I forgot to give it back to you,” I said nervously as his gaze shot back up to my face.
His lips curled up, deepening the dimples in his cheeks. “Keep it. It looks better on you than it does on me.” It wasn’t what he said, but rather how he said it, all husky and low, that made heat pool between my legs.
Today, his hair was tied at the nape of his head in a bun, and my fingers itched to pull at the elastic as we began our work. To keep from doing that, I kept playing with my own messy curls, occasionally catching Abel watching. There were flashes of hunger in his eyes that I hadn’t noticed before, and my pulse quickened at the thought of what they could mean.
His forearm flexed as he strummed the guitar, drawing my attention to the corded muscles running up his arm. He wore a cut-off band tee that did nothing to impede the progress of my eyes from his forearm to his shoulder. His skin was darker, like mine, glowing with a gold tan that made me think he’d been spending a good bit of time in his backyard.
Those green eyes found my gray, and something tense passed between us. Had he noticed me checking him out? My cheeks heated, and I looked down at the paper at my feet.
“I’m going to go grab some water,” he said, forcing me to look at him again.
“Me, too.”
We awkwardly tried to leave the room at the same time before he took a step back to let me pass first, accidentally bumping his elbow against mine in the process. Why did that small contact light my skin on fire? I chugged my water, feeling dehydrated as fuck. He sipped his carefully, his attention still focused on me.
“Are you all right?” His glass clinked as he lowered it into the sink.
“Sure,” I said, leaning against the door of the fridge in an attempt to look casual.
He frowned and walked around the kitchen island until he was only a foot away. “You seem a bit flushed. Are you sure you’re not sick?” He lifted his hand to my forehead before moving down to my cheek, and I held my breath as he conducted his spontaneous physical examination.
Out of everyone in the band, Abel had the slightest built, but somehow, he was still crowding me with his presence in the confines of my small kitchen. My eyes trailed down his chest, noting how it rose and fell a little too quickly.
My hand landed above his heart. Two could play at this game. “I’m not sick. But your heart rate seems a little elevated.”
His face took on that hungry look again, and he trailed his fingers along my jaw before gripping my chin. If my phone buzzed right now, I was pretty sure the house would explode from the release of built-up tension.
Instead, his lips descended on mine, pressing me against the door of the fridge. It was like jumping into a cold pool on a hot summer day, the initial shock quickly replaced by pure exhilaration.
