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Yael
Isat on Alex’s balcony, my feet propped on the rails, a plate of eggs and toast in my lap and a glass of orange juice in my hand. I sipped my juice, my eyes wandering over the view of a park below. He’d cooked breakfast at my place, then we’d ventured to his for the balcony.
“How do you have such a nice view?” I asked, pouting a little.
He shrugged beside me. “Rock star money, boo.”
“Whoever designed this building had to have been a bit demented. My apartment is the size of a postage stamp, while yours is a palace.”
He nudged my foot with his. “True. But I like your place. It’s like our cozy love nest.”
I snorted. “Oh, is it?”
“Yep. It is now.”
I sighed, shifting to a new position due to my deliciously sore butt. Alex never failed to leave a lasting impression on my body, and this morning was no different. He was the most intense, filthy lover I’d ever had, and I had never been so open and free with anyone else. Ten years of knowing each other, and there were still facets of Alex I had yet to discover. But the things I’d learned since the wedding made me want to never let him out of my sight.
“I have to go to Mo’s today. Mic asked me over for lunch,” I said.
His face fell. “Damn. I was hoping we’d get to spend today together.”
I rubbed my foot on his, adoring how forthright he was with his affection for me. This man didn’t play games. “Maybe you should call Mo and tell him you’re lonely. I guarantee you could score an invite.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And spend my day staring at you?”
I raised an eyebrow back. “You did it for years.”
“And I plan to keep doing it, only I’ll also have my hands all over you too.”
“I like that plan. However, even if my brother was aware of our relationship, I doubt he’d be on board with watching you paw his sister.”
Alex chuckled softly. “Okay, I’m convinced. I’ll go call Mo and see if I can’t get myself invited.”
I trapped his foot with mine so he couldn’t leave just yet. “Once you’ve done that, what do you think about grabbing your guitar and playing the song I’ve heard so much about? I’ve still only heard one verse. The suspense is killing me.”
His brow furrowed, and his eyes darted around my face. “Really? Last time I played it for you, you weren’t a fan.”
“Because it made me sad.” I grabbed his hand, pressing my lips to his knuckles. “I didn’t understand a lot, but now I do. I’d like to hear it, if you’ll play it for me. Please.”
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Can’t resist a polite Boo.”
Alex disappeared inside for a few minutes, returning with his guitar in one hand and phone in the other. He took his seat, laying the phone down on the small table between us, his guitar settled across his lap.
“Any luck?” I asked, nodding at the phone.
“Yep. I’m officially invited.” He strummed his guitar and gave me a wink. “Ready?”
I nodded, butterflies swirling up a storm cloud in my stomach.
Alex didn’t have Mo’s powerhouse voice, but it was no less pleasing to my ears. And his hands flying over the strings of his guitar mesmerized me. As he sang, I found myself leaning toward him, taking in every word, every note, coating my mind with them like wallpaper. He may have said this song wasn’t about me, but I thought it might be. I hoped it was.
They look at us and they don’t see
Everything this girl has done to me
She’s stripped me down to the studs
And when she looked at me, my heart went thud
