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So, I did. He picked it up instantly and joined me by singing a tight harmony that gave me pure shivers. It wasn’t just the harmony, though. It was that voice. Hauntingly beautiful, it spoke to my soul. A long time ago, I’d spent hours alone in my room, avoiding everyone and everything, with Jameson Lorde’s voice as my only companion. He’d gotten me through more than he could ever know.
“Did I do it wrong?” Uncertainty colored his tone as the last chord echoed in the living room.
I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “N-no. It was perfect. Fucking beautiful.”
“Beautiful. You wrote it, I just sang it.” He moved to put down the guitar, but I stopped him.
“No, keep going. What’s next? Where do we go?”
He played a new progression, this one clearly meant to be the bridge, and as he did, I wrote out the chart. Then I joined in, playing with melody, harmony, and then circling back to the core to tighten it. We did it again and again, adding more intricate rhythms to flesh it out a little and give it depth. By the time I pulled out my phone to record just a rough demo, we had a full song.
We had magic.
“All right, from the top. Let’s lay this down so we can send it to Jackie.”
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Roll it, cowboy.”
I hit record and started just as I had the first time we played it. Then we let go and let the music take us.
“That was fan-fucking-tastic, Wilde,” he whispered when we finished. The last echoes of the final chord still ringing, he locked eyes with me. Absolute euphoria on his face. Even battered and bruised, he was hot.
I, on the other hand, wasn’t smiling. I was fighting a groan. Was this the look he’d have after I made him come? I hoped so, because if I could make him look like this with something as simple as my hands, I wanted to.
He snagged the whiskey and took a pull straight from the bottle. “We just wrote a fucking hit, Wilde.”
I stopped the recording and immediately sent it over to Jackie, no hesitation, no listening back to it. Then I poured each of us another shot because I needed something to do. I couldn’t move my guitar out of my lap, not if I didn’t want him to see how fucking hard I was.
“Do you want to go again?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
“Same one or something new?”
“I don’t care. I just want to feel that again.”
“So, you felt it too? The lightning?”
“Yeah, I sure as shit did.”
Nothing’s ever made me feel like that. No one.”
“Same. Even when I was writing with my band, it wasn’t this electric. All you had to do was start singing and then…”
“Magic.”
We worked together, coming up with the framework for a second song, and it was almost as easy as the first. This time he took the lead writing the lyrics, but they all spoke to me. By the time we finished, the bottle was gone, and both of us were a little sloppy. For the first time in a long time, I was relaxed. Well, mostly, anyway. My dick had other ideas. Big ones.
“I’ve gotta go to bed,” I muttered, shoving my guitar into the stand as I brushed past him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just tired. Goodnight, Jameson.”
I couldn’t look at him. Not after what had just passed between us. Not yet. I wasn’t strong enough not to let his gravity pull me into something I would never escape.
Chapter Eleven
KILLIAN
I was well and truly fucked. I’d tried my best to deny it, but I couldn’t. Because every single time I thought about Jameson Lorde, I imagined what it would sound like when I made him come. Or what he would look like under me, on top of me, falling apart.
