Page 11 of Sippin' on a Prayer

After giving her notebook a longing look, wishing we were still making music together instead of her being pissed at me, I stand up and head out of the studio. I owe her an apology. Hell, I’ll get down on my knees for her if I have to.

No, that would probably be a bad idea. If I get down on my knees for that woman, I won’t be begging, I’ll be burying my face between her thick thighs.

The need I have for Cove, a burning desire I’ve never felt before, has gotten worse with every moment I’ve spent with her, and it’s only been a few days. I can’t imagine how difficult it’s going to be by the time we finish out here.

I guess I should be grateful that SO only wants five songs from us. For now.

I get it because why waste everyone’s time if we aren’t working well together or if the songs we’re writing are shit? The song we’ve almost finished isn’t shit though. It’s good. Damn good.

Part of me wishes I could take more credit for it, and while I’ve worked with her, it has been mostly Cove. It’s clear my woman has music flowing from the light in her soul.

Woah. My woman?

Yeah, jackass. Mine. She’s mine.

I stumble a little right as I get to the top of the stairs with the realization that I want much more with Cove than one night of heating up the sheets. Oh, I fucking for sure want that as well, but there’s something more between us. It crackles along my skin whenever I’m around her.

From the way her eyes become like liquid metal heated by desire, she’s been feeling the same thing I have. She’s held it mostly in check, trying to be professional, but there are times when she can’t hide it. I’ve seen her thighs clench together from time to time and her eyes sweep over my body with appreciation in her gaze.

I’ve eaten up every scrap of attention like the needy fucking asshole I am. I’m not even going to apologize for it.

Fuck. I want her so damn badly and I don’t think I’m going to be able to resist the pull I feel toward her much longer. Knowing how well we work together and feeling the spark of creativity again; it being all because of her, makes that need burrow deeper in my gut and engulf me until it’s hard to feel anything else.

When I hear a sound coming from the kitchen, I head in that direction and almost trip over my own fucking feet when I find a scowling Cove muttering angrily as she looks in the fridge. It’s as adorable as it is sexy. I don’t even know how that’s possible.

“I’m sorry,” my voice is gruff and a little deeper than it normally is.

What else can be expected when I’ve taken more than a second to stare at my woman’s glorious ass? I bet it would look even better rippling as I plunge into her from behind. The thought of spanking her as I hold onto her shoulder and power my thick cock into her has me feeling lightheaded.

Cove lets out a yelp of surprise as she spins around, her shoulder hitting the open door of the fridge that has condiment bottles rattling against each other. She screeches indignantly, “What the fuck, Langston? You scared the shit out of me,” there’s a breathlessness in her voice that I want to hear when I’m balls deep inside of her instead of fear being the reason for it.

I reach over and grip the edge of the large, rustic island in the kitchen. Maybe if I hold on tight enough then I won’t reach for her. I don’t want to be slapped. Touching her before I’ve told her just how badly I want her, and she knows how sorry I am for being a dick would be a bad idea.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy to keep my hands to myself.

“I’m sorry,” I say again after clearing my throat.

The way her eyes narrow at me tells me I’m about to get a healthy dose of her sass. It’s refreshing as hell when she hits me with an attitude. I’ve been around people for far too long who were only interested in catering to me and making me happy.

It made me into a prick, and it allowed me to forget what it was like before making it big. That kind of entitlement and the feeling of being above it all led me down a path I never want to revisit. I lost Conley because of it. I lost everything because of it.

Never the fuck again.

I try not to smile at the way Cove is glaring at me, but by the way the slits of her eyes get even smaller tells me that I wasn’t able to hide it entirely. As long as I don’t tell her she’s cute, I should be okay.

Maybe.

“What, exactly,” she seethes, “are you sorry for?”

I hold my hands up in front of me and take a step closer, unable to stop myself. My voice is soft, and I hope she can hear the sincerity in it, “I didn’t realize how my compliment sounded before it came out of my mouth. Your talent is amazing, Cove. It’s rare to meet someone like you. You’re so damn good with a lyric and you feel the music in a way that’s completely natural. That shit doesn’t come around all the time. I really did mean it as a compliment, not an insult.”

Her shoulders slump slightly, but her eyes are still fierce as she studies my face. I’m sure she’s looking for a lie, but she won’t find one. Every word I’ve said to her is true. She’s rare. A fucking gem.

“Songstress,” I whisper and take another step toward her. I’m close enough now that I can feel the heat coming from her body. Does she have any idea how hard it is not to hold her? “I’m fucking lucky to be writing with you.”

She blinks up at me, the glare gone as her eyes widen. I drown in the blue of her eyes for a moment and I’m more than okay with it.

I could drown in her eyes forever.

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