Page 76 of Forbid It

“We’ll have to see about the breaking records part at least.”

“For now,” I insist. My smile is so wide it makes my cheeks hurt as I close the distance between us and take her lips in mine again.

Reluctantly, I pull back before I get carried away. “When will Danny get here?”

“Tomorrow.”

I nod my head slowly. One of her curls has fallen in front of her face, catching in her long eye lashes. I gently tug it free, letting the curl spiral around my finger before placing it over her shoulder and brushing the soft skin at the base of her neck. “I need to get back to training, Cass.”

“Oh.” She bites her lip. “When?”

“Tomorrow evening.” I have never, ever, wanted to miss a day of training more than I do right this second. For the longest time, a bed has only ever been something I have to get out of in the morning to get on the pitch, but now I never want to leave this one. “I wish I could stay here with you.”

“As much as I would love that”—she scratches at my chest—“you have, like, so many goals to score.”

“This is true.”

Cassie glances away from me across the room, a calculating look in her eye. “And in the meantime, we have at least eighteen hours and two rooms left.” She wiggles her eyebrows and I can’t help the laugh that rumbles from my chest.

I easily flip our position until I’m buried in the cradle of her thighs. Neither of us bothered pulling any clothes back on, so my cock rubs up against her slick pussy.

“I think we can make that work.” I catch her laugh with my mouth.

She tilts her hips and it’s almost second nature for me to slip inside, her warmth welcoming me with every brush of her tongue against mine. It isn’t the rushed, dirty sex from earlier, but a slower, softer joining. I finally bury myself to the hilt and let my head fall on her shoulder. I’ve already come more times than I can count, and I’m close again already.

“You have a magical pussy,” I mumble into the skin of her neck.

Her laugh rings around the room as she twines her legs around my back, trapping me close to her.

“Robbie?” she asks quietly.

“Yeah, trouble?” I could stay here forever, surrounded by her.

She’s silent for so long I think she’s fallen asleep. I lift my head and gently nudge her nose with mine. “Cass?”

“Are you going to move?”

The house is like a rabbit warren, with corridor after corridor leading to more rooms than I’ve ever seen in a building quaintly named a ‘cottage’.

Night has blanketed the latticed windows, the sky outside an endless field of darkness. As I stand at the kitchen counter, I can only see my reflection in the glass, hair mussed from Cassie’s fingers and naked chest scratched by her nails. I can’t stop the grin that pulls at my mouth as I pull two mugs with tiny handles down from the cupboard. I can barely hook one finger through. A soft noise echoes down the hallway, and I follow it like a siren’s song.

By the time I make it to the basement, the music is almost fully formed. It’s a melody that I’ve never heard before, but I feel like there’s a part of me that’s known it all my life.

The tea in my hand is burning my knuckles, but I wait in the open doorway of the studio. I’ve been in mansions and palaces, trained in the best facilities in the world, but I’ve only ever seen the tiny recording studios on TV. The studio is small, an array of complicated-looking buttons and switches taking up the desk underneath the window that looks out onto the booth. It’s probably big enough for at least six people with instruments and microphones, but today it’s just Cassie sat at a piano stool, head tilted down as her fingers fly across the keys. Her fingers freeze, the music halting before she repeats the notes, eyes closed as she listens out for what only she can hear.

I could stand here all day and watch her.

“Are you going to bring my tea in or am I supposed to watch it get cold?” She doesn’t open her eyes as she speaks, doesn’t stop playing.

“Are you allowed drinks in here?” I ask as I step over the threshold of the booth. It’s strange; it’s so quiet that I can only hear the blood rushing in my ears and the keys of the piano.

“You’d be surprised what you’re allowed to do in a recording booth,” Cassie says with a sly smile as she finally pulls her hands off the keys. She leans back as I approach, her long hair dangling off the back of the stool as she tilts her head towards me. I gently place the tea on the top of the piano and crowd her on the bench, letting my palms rest on the stool beside her.

“Do you know the song ‘Rocket Queen’ by Guns N' Roses?”

“Hmm,” I press a kiss to her neck. “It’s BBM 111. Bicep curls.”

She laughs, a breathy moan as I gently bite at her pulse point.