Page 40 of A Major Puck Up

I press my face against the crown of her head and breathe her in. “Are you going to sing?”

“No.” She sighs, snuggling closer. “I like to come watch the locals do it.”

“What were you playing when I woke up this morning?”

“Just a little something that came to me while lying in bed.”

“A little something about me?” I angle back and smirk.

She lets out a soft laugh and rolls her eyes. “Possibly.”

“Sing it for me, please.”

Fuck, I’d do anything to hear this girl sing again.

She pulls back and studies me quietly, her mind working. “What do I get if I sing?”

Moving in so close my lips brush the shell of her ear, I ask, “What do you want?”

A shiver works its way through her. “I want you to kiss me.”

I pull back and shake my head, even as my eyes drop to her lips again. They’re glossy but still that same peach color.

Her shoulders fall.

The disappointment radiating from her just about breaks me. Fuck, do I want to give in. But I hold my ground. “Ask me for something else, anything.”

“Tell me why you’re here.”

“I already have. I’m here because I couldn’t stay away. I’m here because I want to be.”

She sucks in a sober breath and nods. “Okay.”

I blink at her, unsure of the meaning behind that one word. “Okay, you’ll sing?”

A small smile curves her lips, highlighted by the glow of the spotlight on the stage. “Yeah, I’ll sing.”

“But I didn’t give you anything.”

“Not true, Coach.” She presses a small kiss against my jaw and stands. “You came to see me.” And then, in a voice so low her words are almost imperceptible, she says, “And that is giving me everything.”

With a wink, she turns and saunters to the pianist. She leans in close as he’s playing the last chords of the current song, and he nods in response to her words.

I don’t speak a word of French, so when he speaks into the mic and the crowd breaks into a round of applause, I follow suit.

As he stands, every person in the room seems to press forward in their seat, almost in anticipation. Electricity sparks in the air, making it clear the crowd is excited about whatever he said.

Millie replaces him at the piano, adjusts the mic, and says something in French, her voice so damn sexy I have to clench my fists to control the possessiveness that overtakes me.

She looks right at me and smiles. “This one’s for you, Coach.”

And then she sings the most heartbreakingly beautiful tune in a language I don’t understand but vow to become fluent in so that I can go home and find out exactly how this girl really feels.

When we get back to her apartment, I take in the inexpensive piano sitting on her table. She deserves the real thing. She deserves a real apartment, with more than one room and an actual kitchen table. I want to promise her all these things. Want to tell her I’ll give her everything.

But something holds me back.

Someone holds me back.

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