Page 87 of Heartbreaker

“Son of a nutcracker,” she grumbles, and laughter bubbles up in my chest. Only, it doesn’t escape because her fingers are moving again and?—

“Yes.That.”

Her mouth curves and her eyes soften as she keeps playing and?—

“Yes,” I say softly. “Yes, Shortcake. Keep going.” I sink down behind her, adjust her hands slightly so she can hit the chord progression a little easier. “Just like that, only make that last note a sharp.”

She lets my hands guide hers, leaning back against my chest, doing all the fine motor stuff while I help with the stuff that I can actually do.

Which is less than I want.

And more than I thought.

“There,” she breathes.

“Yes.” I close my eyes as we continue playing, piecing the notes together in that effortless way we seem to have together.

And pretty soon we’re strumming through the song and the words are coming and?—

“That’s perfect,” she whispers, the last note hanging in the air.

“Now we just need words,” I say dryly.

“You mean my album isn’t just going to be an instrumental?”

“Funny.” I tug a strand of her hair then nod at her notebook. “Okay, Shortcake, bust out that pen and fancy paper of yours.”

“A girl talksonetime about how nice the ink feels gliding over the page.”

“My tongue is the ink,” I sing. “Your skin is the page.”

There that blush goes again, bright red on her cheeks. Her lips parting on a shaking exhale.

But her voice is steady as she strums and sings, “My desire is forbidden pink. Your kisses are a rage.”

“Damn,” I whisper, my cock hardening against my zipper, my arms tightening around her. “Baby, for someone who doesn’t curse, that was hot as hell.”

She grins up at me, those cheeks still flushed, her storm cloud gray eyes sparking with lightning. Withheat.

I tug the guitar out of her hands, set it to the side.

“Wh—?”

I kiss her, long and deep and slow, dragging her shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the side so I can peel off her bra, feast on her breasts.

She gasps when I suck a nipple deep, tugs sharply at my hair when I nibble a bit too roughly.

Grinning, I continue kissing her as I slide my hand down her belly, flick open the button of her jeans. I grasp the tag, tug down the zipper, and then I’m slipping my fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear.Lower.“Speaking of forbidden pink.”

Bright red cheeks.

Slickness coating my skin.

I stroke her, firm and sure, just exactly as she likes. And pretty soon she’s rocking against my hand?—

“Royal,” she whispers.

Close.

---