Page 50 of Perfect Pitch

But what if he loves it?

What happens then?

Without thinking, decision made, I flop back on my bed. A short while later, I send him a text along with a few photos—one of my lips, one of my bared shoulder. And the final one of my hand resting on my abdomen with my fingers pointing downward. The photos are all provocative, not explicit—exactly who I am. I chew on my lip while I debate on what to text before settling on,

Austyn:

Yes, you do.

With that, I turn off my phone and move over to my synthesizer to play with a new song. Suddenly, I’m in the mood for a little music.

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

There are some days I wish I wasn’t so good at my job. The more efficient I am, the less I feel necessary.

—Moore You Want

Beckett had to make a trip to Europe for a charity event, so we’ve been in a different time zone for the last two weeks. Instead of texting Austyn in advance, I left without telling her.

Obviously a mistake.

She’s punishing me and I damn well know it.

Still, my body shudders at the photos she sent over. She just has no idea how close I am, how quickly I could make her suggestions a reality. “Damn minx has me twisted up in knots.”

I type back as quickly as I can trying to get Austyn to reply, but she’s not responding to my texts. I fling the damn thing onto the bed in the condo. After another jaunt, I’m back in New York and she’s the only person I thought of contacting.

Just then, my cell rings with “Live the Dream.”

Fucking hell. Beckett. I answer with, “Yes, sir?”

“Sorry to bother you on our first night back, Mitch. But Beckett’s ready to roll for Redemption in the next thirty,” Kane says resignedly.

“Right.” I kiss off any chance of calling Austyn to take her up on the promise of those photos. “Give me a few to get changed.”

“Copy.” Kane disconnects and I drag myself off the bed and into my en suite. Shedding my travel clothes on the floor, I step into the shower. Lathering up, I lean my forehead against the wall and pull up the image of Austyn’s kissable lips. I imagine trailing my mouth over her shoulder as my fingers slide deep inside her pussy.

My fingers wrap around my cock and I begin stroking, slowly at first with long drags. Then more quickly as I imagine Austyn’s delicate fingers dancing over the length of my cock. I grunt as I pull over and over. Finally, my spine begins to tingle and the sensitive head expands just before I choke out her name as I spurt my cum all over the tile.

My heart thunders in my chest, but it’s only a temporary relief. Soon, worry settles back in sending tension radiating through my body.

How am I supposed to find a way to make her understand everything my life entails when I can’t talk about it, even if I wanted to?

* * *

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SEPTEMBER

Labor Day passed. Do I really need to say it? Even Emily Freeman has colors in her wedding designs this season, people.

#stopwearingwhite

—Eva Henn, Fashion Blogger

Trevor hands me a cup of coffee the second I step from my room. I take it gratefully after a fitful night’s sleep. “You’re a miracle worker.”

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