Page 52 of Fractured Rhythm

Her soft laugh sent a bolt of heat to my chest. “We’re going to sleep and then go for round two,” I said.

“Round two? I think you killed me.” Her voice was muffled against my chest as I hugged her before I rolled to the side to remove the condom.

We took quick turns in the bathroom before I pulled her back into bed, snuggling her into my body. She sighed against me, tucking herself in. I’d missed this closeness almost as much as I’d missed being inside her for so long. Almost.

The following morning,I woke with a new song in my head. Cassie barely murmured as I lightly kissed her forehead before I slipped out of bed to let her sleep. She looked so beautiful in the soft morning light that was creeping in from my partially drawn curtains. Her long lashes rested against her slightly pink cheeks. I ached to wake her and have her again, but round four could wait.

I pulled on my boxer briefs and settled on the couch in the living room with my guitar. My ever-present notebook was on the coffee table. I’d tried writing in the spare bedroom that I’d turned into an office but had better success on the couch.

Hell, I’d had better success since Cassie had walked back into my life. She’d always been my muse, even when she wasn’t around, but having her close made everything better.

I strummed a few chords on my acoustic, fiddling with the tuning until it was perfect. I didn’t have a title yet, that always came last, so I played around, working on the melody and jotting down a few phrases that had popped into my head when I’d woken. Usually the songs or portions of songs that entered my head when I was waking needed few tweaks. Too bad I couldn’t manage that with an entire album.

I worked on the chorus, jotting notes down as I played. Shit. This was going to be good. The guys would love it. A love song with a hard edge that would sound amazing on my Fender.

I was so lost in playing that I almost didn’t hear her. I looked over my shoulder to see Cassie hovering in the doorway, her cheeks still flushed, as she nibbled on her lower lip. She was only wearing one of my old t-shirts, a shirt that she would’ve had to snoop through my dresser to find.

Not that I gave one shit about her poking around. She looked fucking hot in an old Van Halen shirt. I was almost positive that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it, and I wanted to toss my guitar aside and drag her to me. Instead, I clutched my acoustic to my body and waited for her to make the next move.

If she regretted last night, I wasn’t sure how I would take it.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she said, walking toward the couch, and I swear I took in an audible breath.

She smelled of sex, and Cassie, and me. It was intoxicating, and I moved to set my guitar on the couch.

She grinned. “I’m sore in places I don’t even remember, so you keep playing and I’ll make breakfast. That is if you actually have food in here.”

“I’m sure you can find something to eat. I know I could,” I said, starting to rise from the couch.

She laughed and shifted out of arm’s reach. “Keep your ass on that couch and play me some music.”

Then she spun on her heel and walked into the kitchen, giving me a flash of her cotton boy shorts peeking out from underneath my shirt. It took everything in me not to drag her into my lap. That would happen after we refueled.

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