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Well, ideallynothingunderneath. But even if it’s just panties, it’s basically a look that keeps me at least three-quarters hard just about every single waking minute of the day.
“I need you for something.”
She blushes deeply. Which just makes me grin wickedly.
“Dirty girl,” I growl quietly, which just makes her turn a deeper shade of crimson.
“I mean with this.”
I place her notebook on the counter and glance at her. Melody stares at it, her mouth pursing before she whips her gaze to me, looking miffed.
“Uh-uh,” I growl, shaking my head. “Let’s put those stones down, Ms. Glass House. Who poked around in who’s personal writing shit first?”
She glares at me, but I can see her lips trying to stop the grin.
“Okay, fair,” she mumbles. “So, you looked at my writing?”
I nod. She swallows as she turns away.
“Huh.”
“Yeah, huh.”
She clears her throat.
“So…what do you need me for?”
“I need your help, with this.”
I grab the stack of crumpled bits of lyrics and chords from the shelf where I stacked them yesterday and spread them out across the counter in front of us both.
Melody looks confused.
“What I need,” I rumble as I grab a chair and sit down next to her. “Is for you to help me finish something.”
Her eyes snap to mine so fast, I wince for her.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You heard me.”
She swallows, her eyes piercing into me, as if trying to see how I’m fucking with her.
“I’m not.”
She frowns. “Not what?”
“Fucking with you.”
A flush creeps up her neck.
“I’m not. Melody, your shit isgood. Like, really good.”
“Stop.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not fucking with you. Take the compliment. I don’t exactly dole them out willy-nilly, and I’m betting you can guess how true that is.”
She stares at me, chewing on her lip in that way that drives me fucking wild. Though I haven’t told her that, for fear she’ll stop doing it.
