Page 22 of Hope & Harmony

“I haven’t been on a stage in years.” I swallow down the overwhelming desire to run off the stage, back to the safety of my stool.

I can do this. I can do this for Maddy.

“I promise I won’t bite.” She smiles at me with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Unless you want me to.”

Somehow, I chuckle, fighting the fear that’s clawing at my insides.

Maddy holds out her hand, and I take it, needing the extra encouragement to keep myself moving forward. I slide my palm into her hand and am shocked by the electricity again.

“I’m proud of you,” she says, giving my hand a light squeeze. “Sit there.” She ticks her head toward the stool, and without a second thought, I plop down before my knees have a chance to give out on me. “Now, how do you want me to change the song?”

I hum the few lines, the closest to singing I can do without sounding like I’m killing an animal.

“I can tell by your hum that there’s a beautiful voice inside you like I thought.”

“Maybe your ears aren’t as good as you think,” I tell her, adjusting myself on the stool because my ability to sit still is nonexistent.

Maddy takes a step forward and places the guitar on the stand next to me. “Sing the chorus,” she asks, moving between my legs.

I crane my neck back, staring up at her. “What?” I swallow hard, the fear and excitement of this moment mingling.

“Sing for me, Lucca,” she begs as she places her hands on my legs, sending a wave of excitement and hope through my body.

“I really want you right now, Maddy, and I know my voice will kill the moment,” I croak out, barely able to catch my breath as I speak.

“Your trust will mean more to me than the sound of your voice. Sing, baby,” she whispers.

I stare into her deep green eyes, and for the first time in my life, I’m unable to say no. I start softly to dull the off-key sound of my voice.

Maddy smiles down at me as I sing, looking happy with the sound of my voice instead of horrified. Maybe I misjudged myself or, as I’ve aged, my tone has changed.

When I finish, she moves her hands from my thighs to palm my cheeks. “That was beautiful.”

I lift my arms, placing my hands on her hips, drawing her toward me. “No, it wasn’t,” I whisper, wanting her now more than ever.

She leans into me, pressing her body against mine. I dig my fingers into the material of her jeans that sit snugly against her luscious hips.

I raise a hand, sliding my fingers around the side of her neck, and pull her face down to me. “Is this okay?” I ask, always wanting to check before I act.

“Yes,” she whispers, her eyes soft and lazy.

My heart beats faster as the anticipation of kissing her gets more intense. I lift my face, staring into her green eyes before I close my eyes and press my lips to hers.

Fireworks explode, sending tiny shocks across my skin and throughout my entire body. Never have I felt this when kissing anyone else.

Her lips are soft and warm as I kiss her gently at first, testing the waters. She pulls back, staring down at me with even softer eyes.

“What was that?” she asks, sending a moment of panic through me.

“I’m being gentle.”

“Don’t,” she says firmly before she leans in, taking my lips in a hard and demanding way.

That’s all it takes to make my gentle side fade away. The kiss is long and deep, filled with all the hope and longing I’ve felt for her for months.

I could get lost in her. Get lost in this moment. Months of wanting her have led to this very spot, with her in my grip and lips pressed against mine.

I’d sing in front of a sold-out stadium if it meant I could kiss her again and hold her in my arms.

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