Page 54 of Muted

Without moving away, I lean down and, against her ear, say, “Knock ‘em dead, quiet girl.” I pull away only after I feel the shiver course through her body.

Chapter 15

Unspoken

Susu

“Are you hungry?” Chester asks me as we pull out of the parking lot. Tonight was a long as fuck evening and I’m wired.

I shrug my answer because I don’t really know. Thoughts of the last song Vance and I played run on a continuous loop through my head. I’m unable to stop thinking about the incredible reaction we got when we finished. My fingers dance across my bouncing thighs as the music plays in my memory to the beat of the buildings flashing past my window.

I’ve been hyped up like this before after a recital performance when I played better than I had expected, or when the audience’s reaction was bigger than I had anticipated. There’s no stopping my head from bouncing and I have to stretch my fingers out to get them to stop moving. It’s one of the first times being around Chester that my throat isn’t painfully tight, so when I swallow, it’s smooth and feels almost… normal.

“Here. Give me your hand. You’re fucking vibrating with energy.” I feel him bump against my arm, and when I look over, he’s resting his hand palm up in my direction on top of the center console.

I eye it warily, not because I don’t want to touch him, but I can’t believe he wantsmeto touchhim. His hand wiggles his fingers in a ‘gimme’ gesture before he asks softly, “Please? I can help you. You seem like you’re about to burst out of your skin.”

Reaching out slowly, I set my palm against his lightly in case he changes his mind and I need to pull back. The moment our skin connects, his fingers wrap around to the sensitive skin across my knuckles, and he squeezes lightly. “Good… good. Flip your hand, palm up.”

This time, I raise a brow and glance up at his face curiously. His chuckle eases any worry I have. “Trust me, Susu. Come on,” he urges, moving his fingers against my mine to get me to turn it.

Blowing out a breath, I do as he asks. The moment my left hand is cradled in his, he digs his thumb into my palm and runs it up the center to the base of my fingers. Then, he starts the path again, but veers to the side, following a path to my thumb. He does this with each finger until he finishes with my pinky finger, then starts the whole process again.

Chester doesn’t move quickly, but takes his time with each pass, keeping steady pressure, and my body literally melts into the seat as I relax. The moment I close my eyes as a chill rolls up my spine, he starts speaking in a low, sonorous voice. His words are steady and slow, the same way his thumb is sliding along my completely relaxed hand. I’m fucking sunk.

“There are pressure points in your hand, particularly in this area between your thumb and index finger,” he tells me, squeezing the area a touch harder to indicate where he’s talking about. “Supposedly, it helps relieve tension and reduces stress. Even down here,” he continues, running his thumb to my wrist, “can ease sciatic nerve pain. I’m not sure if it really works, but I’ve heard it can help.”

I don’t stop my soft moan from the way he’s massaging because, honest to God, this is what heaven must feel like. I ignore the way his movements pause at my noise, and instead of being embarrassed, I tug my hand free and twist my body toward him to drop in my right hand.

Peeking one eye open, I stare at him and wait until he starts again on my new hand. My eye falls shut to the view of a cocky grin spreading across his lips and I let my head fall back to enjoy this in peace.

The music Chester put on before we left was a new genre for us. This time it’s a slower, alternative type of music. Songs that aren’t quite mainstream, but I’ve heard some of them, nonetheless.

As we continue to drive, the car rocking me gently, I realize I’m humming softly along with the woman singing. The song is slow, and she sings in a raspy alto range, so the notes are easy to keep up with.

I barely notice the way Chester eases back from his strokes until he urges me to turn my hand back over, putting us palm to palm. I assume he’s going to continue his movements on the back of my hand, but he doesn’t.

My mouth parts to inhale slowly as he threads his fingers with mine.Chester Ahearn is holding my hand. I have no idea what to do, but I keep my eyes shut as I panic inwardly. He reaches out and strokes along my wrist, no doubt feeling the way my pulse is racing under my skin.

“Relax,” he murmurs.

You try to relax when a sexy as fuck older man is holding your hand in the middle of the night. Fucking bossy, too.

Chester rumbles out a low chuckle. “I can practically read your condescension all over your face. You’re relaxed and calm. Stay that way for me.”

I still haven’t opened my eyes, because honestly, I just can’t right now. Even though I’m panicking a little less than before, I’m still enjoying it. There’s no way I’m going to be the one to pull away. My body curls into my seat, still turned sideways to face him, and I let my cheek lay against my shoulder.

“Fuck…” he says, more to himself than me. My heavy lids struggle to open to see what’s going on. “Keep them closed. There’s construction, so we need to detour.”

My body shifts as he turns a few times, then speeds up like he’s getting on the highway. Through all of it, I never open my eyes even though I’m wide awake. The streetlights are flashing across my lids as we speed past them like they’re flickering on and off.Highway. We must be on the highway now.

Another ten minutes, two more songs which I hum along with, and an ever-tightening grasp on my hand, Chester’s frustration grows exponentially. When the car slows to a stop, I know we’ve hit a traffic jam.

Slowly, I open my eyes, lifting my head to rest my cheek on the headrest to look up at him. Chester’s head is leaned back as he stares ahead. He pops the car in park and then rolls his head toward me. Neither of us say anything, just stay in the nighttime quietness, exhausted yet energized, hungry yet full, tense yet so,sorelaxed.

“Traffic,” he finally murmurs.

I open my mouth to tell him I know, then slowly close it and nod subtly instead. His eyes fall to my lips like he’s waiting for the sounds to escape, but when they find mine again, there’s no sign of him being disappointed that I stayed silent.

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