Page 80 of Perfect Pitch

I shake my head.

“It doesn’t?” His voice holds a note of disappointment.

“It means everything,” I counter quietly.

Mitch cups my chin and lifts my face so I’m not focused on the lights bouncing off the crystal chandeliers of Redemption. I don’t feel the thumping of the beats being thrown down by my relief DJ. Everything has coalesced into the touch of his fingers on my skin. I’m about to say To hell with it and kiss him when he drops my face and lifts his hand to his ear. “Right, I’m on my way.”

With a faint smile, he nudges me forward through the crowd. Bending down, he murmurs, “I wish I could be there to see this.”

I shoot him a filthy glare, which he just laughs off. Wrapping an arm around my waist, he asks, “Are you ready to play in the major leagues?”

Saucily, I toss my hair and question, “Are they ready for me?”

“Jesus, Austyn. No one is ready for you.”

Just as we’re about to approach the elevator where my mother’s anxiously hovering, I dig my heels in. Mitch shoots me a look. “What is it?”

This time, I push him against a wall before pressing myself against his body. Smoothing my hand up his chest, I feel the pounding of his heart.

Beats—my life revolves around them.

Mitch’s arm snakes around my waist and hauls me closer. Not even the sultry air of Redemption can squeeze in between us as I reach up and thread my fingers through his hair.

My head falls back as his leans closer. And just before his lips touch mine, I’d swear he mutters, “Becks can wait.”

Who?

I’m not given another chance to think as his lips devour mine. A single stroke of his tongue has mine parting. I match him, entwining my tongue with his.

Kissing Mitch is a whole-body experience. I taste the sweetness of cola on his lips. I feel his fingers flirt with the hem of my dress as they tease the upper edges of my thighs. The music pounding around us only makes me want to taste more.

To absorb him deep into my body where I’ll never let him go.

I arch against him, pleading for more, when suddenly Mitch tears himself away. Back to me, he holds a hand to his ear. “What?” he snarls. Then he whirls around, eyes scan the crowd before his face smooths out. I’d be worried if not for his next words. “Tell him to go fuck himself. I’ll be right there.”

He’s about to say something when I drawl, “It could be worse.”

“My boss’s timing? It sucks,” he declares.

I jerk my chin up. “My mama’s right around that corner. Remember?”

His face pales. “I take it back. It’s your timing that sucks.”

That just makes me laugh. “Is there a bad time for this?” I point back and forth between us.

His head shakes back and forth, but before he can speak, he lifts his hand to his ear again. “Never. But I have to go.”

“So do I.”

He brushes his lips against the top of my head. “Knock ’em dead, Beats. I’m rooting for you.”

His words have me swaggering with confidence until I step through Marco’s office door and come face-to-face with two different men. As Marco introduces us, I’m grateful for the first—a representative for Wildcard Entertainment. But I’d be a damn liar if I didn’t admit the second, a representative from the Neo Agency, Walter Hutnik, didn’t creep me out a little.

I’m disappointed when I get a text from Mitch saying he’s left a few moments later before I have a chance to introduce him to my mother. Then again, if the representative from Wildcard Music has his way, my mother might be filling in for me for the rest of the set.

Fortunately, Marco shuts down negotiations by reminding everyone of my responsibilities. “There will be time enough for this later, everyone. Right now, Kensington has a job to do.”

Relieved, I escape, but until I make my way into the booth, I can’t help but feel there are still eyes on me.

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