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“It is,” I agree.
It’s dark inside, and because the floorboards are a bit uneven, I grab for her hand.
“Hang on. Let me turn the lights on.”
“You sure it’s okay that we’re in here?”
“Wamba would love that you asked to see the place.”
I flip the lights on and turn to see her looking around with wide-eyed wonder. With her head tipped back as she eyes the high tin ceiling, she looks like a kid in a toy store.
“Did you tell him about me? About us?”
I have told Wamba about her. Not a lot. Because I’m not the kiss and tell kind of guy. But I’ve mentioned her in passing. Told him Skye is Chloe’s best friend and that she and I have gotten to know each other better.
“Yep.”
She wanders down the main aisle, looking at the vinyls. Her heels click on the floor and draw my attention to her legs. Alaina wore heels. Hell, Alaina wore her heels when we had sex and dug them into my back on more than one occasion. I like the sting of Skye’s nails in my back when she’s on the brink of an orgasm. Her sweet perfume mingles with the musty smell of sheet music and the smell of oil and polish. It’s a heady scent, and I’m consumed with thoughts of stripping Skye down and pounding her against the service counter. Slow, passionate lovemaking is the best, especially with Skye. But even the hard, fast, dirty sex with her is even more intense and pleasurable than anything else I’ve had.
“This is cool.” Her voice comes from far away. I snap out of my fantasy and find that she’s wandered deep into the store. She’s at the service counter, running her fingers over the glass display case like she’s looking for secrets, the stories this place has heard in all the years it’s been here.
“C’mere.” I stride down the aisle, grab her hand, and take her to the backroom, secretly thrilled when her face lights up at the instruments there.
“Wow. This is so cool. Do you sell them?”
“Rent and sell.”
“And you play all of these?”
“I do.” I nod. “Some better than others.”
“Would you play something for me?” She tips her head and arches her brows. She sounds sweet and shy, not at all like the woman who opens her legs to me every night and moans my name in her sleep.
I don’t normally play for women. Just Alaina. And that was because we performed together sometimes. But at this moment, I want nothing more than to play my music for Skye.
“Yeah.” I reach for her hand again and lead her to the staircase.
“What’s up here?” She tugs at my hand to stop me.
“Practice rooms.” I take the first two steps and look back at her. “Pianos.”
“Oh.” Her smile lights up the dark staircase. She hurries up after me, and it crosses my mind I should have let her go first. Imagine the view of her sweet little ass and her sculpted calves in those fuck-me heels.
What if I buy this place, and we could come here anytime? What if Skye likes my music and asks me to play again?
I clamp that thought down. Wishful thinking. Women want big music. Big hits. Big money. Skye might not be greedy like that, but she deserves more than a wanna be composer who can’t afford a new cell phone and has to duct tape his battered piece of shit together.
The hallway feels small as I lean into the first practice room and flip the light on. Skye follows me in. Her sigh sounds dreamy. When I glance at her, she’s ogling the piano the way she does me sometimes.
“Gideon.”
“Hmm?”
She loops her arms around my neck and kisses the corner of my mouth.
“Not a wanna be.”
“What?”
