Page 15 of Erik

I nod. “Sure.”

She takes a step and stops, turning to me. She raises a hand, slices the air in front of her; then presses the palm to her cheek. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.” She takes another step away from me. “I should really go now.”

I nod again, but stay rooted to the spot, watching her back as she ambles toward the parking lot.

“I’ve heard you singing your song,” I cry out after her.

What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I let her go? Why do I have to babble the first thing that pops into my mind?

She swings around to face me. In the blink of an eye, she stands a foot away from me. Her eyes have turned from their calming hazel into sparkling green. “Not today, you haven’t.”

Not ready to confess for how long I’ve followed her around the set, I wave a hand, dismissing the subject. “Of course. Not sure when, though.”

She frowns.

I brave her probing stare. If I hold my tongue about having stalked her these past weeks, she’ll never learn I did it.

She tilts her head to the right. When my poker face convinces her of my innocence, she drops her chin. “Despite my love for music, I lack any musical skills whatsoever.” With a self-mocking huff, she meets my eyes again. “I’m sorry you had to listen to me.”

“Nonsense,” I blurt out. My stomach churns when she knits her eyebrows. I sift my thoughts to pick the type of information I’m willing to share with her at this point. As if each note and each word of her song were not engraved in my memory, I tap a finger to my chin. “It’s been a while, so I don’t remember details. But your voice impressed me.”

She blows a raspberry. “Oh, please. Stop yanking my chain.”

I shake my head. “Am not. I promise.” Infusing sincerity to my words this time, I assure her. “You’ve got a unique singing voice, with an enchanting mix of innocence and sultriness.”

Her mouth pops open with an adorable expression. It’s all I can do not to tuck a finger under her chin, lift it, and close her lips. I mentally kick myself. I shouldn’t be dreaming about gently closing her full lips like a lovesick teenager. Envisioning my cock sliding between them as I fuck her face until I come deep in her throat is much more my style.

She presses her splayed fingers against her chest, which draws my attention to the movements of her breasts as she takes deep inhales and exhales. My palms itch, eager to cup her flesh, as she kneels for me.

“That’s high compliment coming from you.” Her husky voice stirs my imagination.

In my mind, I can hear her moan my name as I introduce her to the pleasures of total submission. No doubt Ms. Christine Daae has never done it like that. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’d make a fine bottom. And my dick would love it for me to be the first to dominate her. Too bad I can’t afford to do the thinking with that head. I must be smart about this. No more fooling around the set with a young woman I can’t have.

I shouldn’t have.

I won’t have.

“Here’s an idea. I could tutor you during breaks from filming. You clearly need help with your guitar playing. And I could give you tips on how to improve your singing.”

There goes my resolution to be smart about the whole thing.

She hesitates.

My heart forgets to beat. I get torn between hoping she agrees and wishing she refuses. Either way, it’s going to be hell.

After a long exhale, she nods. “I’m in.”

I’m doomed. I haven’t been able to control myself around this woman today. How will I tutor her without making an ass of myself?

7

Christine

After double checking my Harley is secured, I drag my feet through the visitors parking lot toward Erik’s trailer. I adjust the guitar strap across my chest, balancing out the weight of the instrument on my back.

One week after agreeing to his tutoring sessions, I still can’t wrap my mind around our situation. Why the heck did he offer to help me? Why the heck do I keep coming back? The most radical roller coasters would offer less twists and turns, dips and highs, than our encounters over the past days.

Shaking my head, I consider for the nth time the idea that I might have become an adrenaline junkie. Case in point, my heart rate spikes at the thought of spending a couple of hours with the man, even though he turns from hot to cold faster than skinny-dipping in a frozen lake.

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