by Kelly, Hazel
He stole a glance at me out of the corner of his eye before leaning towards the mic. "I'd like to apologize in advance to Elvis Costello for tweaking his perfect lyrics. Hope you guys don't mind."
As soon as he let his right hand fall, the music from his first strum floated across the room, and I exhaled the breath I was holding. He could play. And well, too. We weren't going to get booed out after all. And then I realized what a ridiculous worry that had been when I heard his voice.
It was soft and smooth, a little less deep than when he spoke but surprisingly gentle for someone who'd done nothing but spew brash come-ons all night.
And as soon as he started singing, I recognized the song. Every bone in my body recognized it.
But when he got to the chorus, he said my name. Sang it rather. Instead of Alison.
At first I thought I was imagining it, but the second time he sang it, I knew I wasn’t, and I let my eyes wash over him, lingering over his hands as they switched chords and jumped across the fretboard.
He was singing to me. For me. Or at least it felt that way, and I liked it. And even though I’d heard the song a thousand times before, it felt like I was hearing it for the first time.
By the time his voice dropped to sing the last few words, I was so wet I was starting to ache.
When he finished playing, I didn't move, though I jumped when applause erupted around me. Apparently, he’d gotten more than just my attention.
He nodded at the smattering of drinkers in front of him and then handed the guitar to his buddy before stepping down from the stage and walking over to me, his hair moving behind him.
Before he reached the table, his friend's familiar voice announced that the band was going to take a short break.
"Wow," I said. "I had no idea you could play like tha-"
"You want to get out of here?" he asked. "I'm not really in the mood for catching up with everybody now that I’ve blown my cover."
I glanced down at my last beer, and without giving myself time to think about what would happen if we left, I tilted the bottle straight over my mouth and stood up.
He smiled, and as I passed him, his hand grazed my lower back just long enough to send a wave of warmth through me.
When we got in the car, I buckled my seat belt and waited until he turned onto the road to speak.
"That was really beautiful," I said.
“Thanks,” he said, relaxing into his seat. "But you should see the girl I was singing it to."
With my shy smile hidden by the dark, I angled my body towards him. "I used to pretend that song was about me," I said. "That Elvis got it wrong."
He laughed. "Elvis never gets it wrong," he said. "But I'm sure you've inspired loads of lyrics."
"I highly doubt that."
"Well, if you haven't already, something tells me you might in the future."
I raised my eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Just a hunch," he said, smiling at me.
I watched the dark road disappear under the tires for a few minutes, punctuated by the interspersed street lights. I felt like I had a good buzz after the drinks, but Wyatt seemed fine so I was glad I wasn't drunk, especially since I was nervous enough as it was.
After all, I knew what he wanted and what he thought I wanted and- scratch that.
I didn't know anything. I was like a silly seventeen year old out with the boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and the feeling itself was so overwhelming I couldn't think straight.
"I had a good time tonight," I said as he pulled into the driveway of the cabin.
"I'm glad," he said, turning towards me. "So did I."
His gaze felt hot on my skin so I unbuckled quickly and pushed the door open, careful to keep my dress from riding up as I reached my heels down to the gravel drive.
As I closed the door of his truck, I noticed he was getting out, and I felt a lump in my throat.
"Mind if I walk you to the door?" he asked.
I smiled but didn't answer him. I wasn't sure if I minded or not.
Once we climbed the steps, he pulled his phone out and shined the screen over my purse while I scrambled for the keys.
"Thanks," I said, sticking the key in the door and turning it until I heard the latch pop on the other side. Then I looked towards him.
His eyes were shiny in the dark, but the rest of his face was covered by shadow. There was just enough light for me to know he was looking at my lips.
I felt them fall open and tried to think of something to say- anything- but the words didn't come, and it was even harder to think straight when he stepped so close to me our breath mingled in the dark.
And as he rested his hands on my hips, the chorus of insects faded and the sound of my racing heart grew louder.
Then his lips were on mine.
At first, he moved slowly, like he wanted to make sure he found the right place in the dark, but once he knew he had, he opened his mouth and sucked my breath from me, slipping his tongue in its place.
I put my hands on his chest to brace myself, and in the next moment, he pinned me to the wall beside the door with his body so that I could feel how he wanted me.
My hips tilted against him and adrenaline flooded my body as my mouth watered around his tongue.
"This is the part where you invite me in," he whispered.
"I haven't decided if I'm going to yet."
"Fine," he said, pulling my dress up around my hips and sliding my thighs apart with his hand. "There's nothing I want to do in there that I can't do right here anyway."
My eyes searched his for answers, but they'd disappeared in the shadows. A second later, I felt his fingers slide along the outside of my panties just beneath my slit.
"Fuck," he growled. “You’re already wet.”
I swallowed.
"Invite me in," he said.
And this time when my heart skipped a beat, I knew I was really in trouble.
Thanks
Thank you for taking the time to read this story.
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To find out what’s next for Wyatt and Addison, check out the next book in the Wanted Series,
Taken by Him
http://amzn.to/1OS0pjn
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Happy Reading,
Xo Hazel
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