Page 71 of The Sound of Us

“We’ve got one more song,” he whispered in my ear. “Then I want to take you home.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT“All of Me” by John LegendSKYE

From the outside, Dante’s apartment looked like an ordinary garage suite. The roof tiles and worn siding on the rectangular building were a match for Noah’s two-story house and it had the same peaked roof and narrow windows. Inside the garage, a wooden staircase led up to a metal door, but there the similarities ended. As I crossed the threshold, I felt like I’d stepped into a music museum. Framed vintage band posters and signed photographs of musicians covered the walls, along with neon beer signs and wooden shelves bursting with music paraphernalia.

“Noah decorated this place before I moved in.” Dante closed the door behind me. “He thrifted the furniture from various stores and flea markets. He was going for an eclectic look. He said I could change things around, but I didn’t want to mess with his stuff. I kinda like it.”

“It’s very Noah.” The mishmash of colors, textures, and patterns somehow worked together to create a space that was warm and inviting, a reflection of Noah’s artistic personality.

“Where are you in here?” I studied the vintage guitars displayed in glass cases, some of which had been signed by musical greats.

“Right here.” Dante gestured to the big wooden desk in the corner. “Textbooks, coursework, pens, calculator, mail, bills, LSAT study guide—I’m taking the test this Friday.”

“Can I see your bass?” After watching him play all night, I was desperate to see it up close.

I could tell from Dante’s smile he was pleased I’d asked. He unzipped the case and offered it to me. Understanding the importance of the moment, I took the instrument carefully with both hands.

“It’s beautiful.” I ran my fingers over the shiny blue metal-flake surface. Despite the warmth in the room, it was still cool from our trip home.

“It was my first bass,” he said proudly. “It’s a Fender with a custom maple neck and jumbo frets. I used to play it out of a small GK amp that fell off the back of a truck.”

“You do like to play it close to the line,” I said, teasing. “Where did you get it?”

Dante’s smile faded. “The bass was a gift from my middle school music teacher. My dad wouldn’t agree to pay for lessons, so my teacher taught me after school and on weekends in exchange for yard work. He let me bring Sasha and she would help in the garden and play in his backyard. It was a sanctuary for us. I was devastated when he moved away. I didn’t realize at the time, but he was a pro session player and he’d toured with some big-name bands back in the day.”

Everyone had left him. How did someone deal with that much pain?

“I would show you a few chords, but’s hard to focus when I’m wondering what’s under your dress.” He returned the bass to its case, and then pulled me into his arms, his eyes hooded, primal, hungry.

“Why don’t you take it off and find out?”

“I would be delighted to strip you naked, but first…” He swept me up in his arms and carried me into his bedroom. “I had fantasies of doing things to you in my bed and I’m going to make every single one of them come true.”

“I’m happy to oblige.”

Dante released me, standing, at the foot of his bed. His room was decorated much like the rest of the suite, but with far fewer adornments. A king-size bed with a plain-blue cover took up most of the space with a vintage dresser squeezed into one corner.

“I want you naked.” He yanked off his T-shirt and I pressed a kiss to the bluebird inked on his bare chest.

“What a coincidence,” I murmured against his skin. “I want you naked, too.” I unzipped my dress and shimmied my hips until it fell in a puddle on the floor. I was wearing my only matching underwear, a white lace bra and panty set that I’d bought my freshman year when I’d had the world in my palm and thought that was the year I’d meet “the one.”

“I like this.” Dante slid one finger over the strap of my bra, then flicked it over my shoulder. “But I like you more without it.” He unhooked it with one hand and tossed it on the bed, his gaze sweeping over my breasts as he rumbled with approval.

“Your turn.” I trailed my fingers down his chest and over the trail of soft hair before I ripped open his fly and wrapped my hand around his arousal, hard and thick beneath my palm.

His breath hitched, firm hand clasping my wrist and drawing it away. “I want this to last. I want to take my time with you.” He kicked off his jeans but left his boxers on, and there we were, bare save for the thin material between us.

Dante leaned down and kissed me, gently, softly, slowly melting me until I had to wrap my arms around his neck to stay upright. We kissed and we kissed, and we kissed until I was wet and aching and imagining that talented tongue thrusting somewhere else.

“I need to taste you.” He eased me back onto the bed and lifted my heels to his shoulders, licking his lips as if I were a delicious treat. “Don’t move.” His voice was a low, teasing whisper in my ear as the rough pads of his fingertips glided through the wetness of my arousal.

Moaning, I jerked my hips up, chasing his touch. “More.”

“You’ll get more when I’m ready to give you more.” He circledmy clit with his tongue, making me shudder. His fingers were on the insides of my thighs, curling around from behind to spread me open, treating both legs the same. Scars or no scars, he was pulling me apart.

“Please.” My cheeks burned but I was beyond caring. I fisted the covers, digging my heels into his shoulders.

“There’s my good girl.” He rewarded me with the thrust of a thick finger as he lowered his mouth back to my clit. So slow. So gentle. Not nearly enough.

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