Page 80 of Embody

Twenty-Six

Bellamy

I’M BELTING OUT“When You’re Gone” by The Cranberries as though unaware I’m completely tone deaf and vocally challenged, when he knocks on the window.

I screech, caught off guard…and singing, badly, blushing as I turn down the music and hit the unlock button.

“Wild guess, but you never made it to yellow belt in singing, did ya baby?” He has the decency to duck his head while he laughs.

“Funny. Let’s hear what you’ve got.”

“Nah, I’m no good.” He continues avoiding eye contact, slipping a manila envelope under his seat before starting the car.

“What’s with thenot at all secretenvelope?” I pry in an impish tone.

“You’ll see soon enough. Patience, woman.”

“It’s gonna drive me crazy,” I pout. “Your choice, either tell me, or sing. Pick your poison.”

“You asked for it.” He comes to a stop sign and finagles with his phone, picking a song. “I’m not as good as Zeke,” he snarls, “so don’t laugh or run away with him.”

“Who?” I reply instantly, sincerely ignorant.

“Good fucking answer, baby.” I get a pleased, predatory once-over from him…and then I get to hear him start singing.

He’s chosen “I Don’t Dance” by Lee Brice, a song I know well andlove, and with the first husky, hedonic word out of his mouth, my core clenches and thighs quiver.

Jefferson Tate Kendrick’s been holding out on me. Not only can he sing, he can send your whole body into trembles with the raspy way he makes every melodic lyric sound like seduction.

I let my head fall back and close my eyes, absorbing my smoky, sinful, personal concert. Not gonna lie, or be a bit ashamed, that by the time the song’s over, my panties are wet and I’m breathing heavier than if I’d run a marathon.

“Bellamy,” he lightly touches my arm, “we’re here.”

I slowly peel my eyes open and turn my head to give him a lazy smile. “That was,wow. You can sing, Jefferson.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

I only nod, afraid of embarrassing myself if I try to use actual words to describe what just happened.

“My dad’s pretty talented. Must’ve gotten it from him,” he shrugs, oblivious to just how incredible he is. “Let’s get out, look around.”

It’s only with his reminder that my daze lifts and I look to see where we are. A car lot.

“You’re getting a new car?”

“Something like that.” He gets out, sauntering over to my side to open my door and offer me his hand.

“What’s wrong with the car you have?” I ask, glancing back at his Navigator…not quite seeing the problem.

He lifts our joined hands and sweeps his lips across my knuckles. “Doesn’t fit my needs anymore.” His voice is thickened with mystery, half-hooded eyes penetratingly enigmatic.

 

 

“BELLAMY, COME OUTright now! You’re causing a scene!”

Shit, his volume tells me he’s getting closer…gonna spot me crouched down, hiding behind this dumpster, any second now.

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