Page 9 of Red Hot Harmony

The watch had been shiny and heavy and looked awkward against my slim, tanned wrist. It had taken me some time to get used to it, to get used to the weight of luxury.

But I didn’t need it anymore.

So I took it off and headed out.

The lingering heat slapped my cheeks and the wind tangled my hair as I drove my recently purchased Camaro. Having someone chauffeur us around tonight felt impersonal. Not date material. Frank might have done something like that and Cassy would have liked it. She was an impressionable young woman.

Camille was different.

She was uncomfortable when we went to the engagement party. She’d never said it, but it hadn’t been very difficult to see.

This—a smaller car and less fuss—seemed like a good choice.

The sky looked impenetrably dark when I pulled up to her house. Her 4Runner sat in the driveway, clean and suburban.

The neighborhood was quiet and I hesitated. Heaviness pushed at my chest, my ribs straining, my heartbeat accelerating. The last few days were a blur. Malik hadn’t returned my calls. All my messages were unread. His manager didn’t know where he was either.

I was worried for him because I knew how volatile emotions could send an addict spiraling. And wewereaddicts.

My hands shook and I remembered how I’d fucked up another solo last night. The guitar wasn’t my friend anymore.

Seconds ticked by. Seconds accumulated into minutes. How many? I didn’t know. I just knew that I wanted a cigarette and I wanted to be a regular guy without a horde of reporters waiting somewhere around the corner, waiting to pull the words out of my mouth, break the letters apart and smear them into headlines that fit the mold.

Then the front door of Camille’s house swung open and she stood there on the tiny porch, surrounded by greenery and flowers and light pouring out from the living room.

Her dress was dark red. Burgundy. With a revealing top, thick straps, a matching belt to highlight the thinness of her waist, and a flowing skirt that reached her knees.

She raised her hand by way of a greeting, turned around, shouted something to Ally, whose silhouette lingered in the background, and then closed the door and started toward my car, and I, like a dumb fuck, continued to stare at her, watching the wind ruffle the fabric around her legs, exposing the shape of her thighs.

My hands already knew how she felt. My tongue did too. But there was something sensual and primal and delicate in the way she wore that dress.

“New car?” Camille asked, stopping at the passenger side and leaning in so that our faces were level for a brief moment.

My tinted windows were rolled down and her voice sent a little shiver through my body. Excitement swept through me. My gaze dropped to her chest, the seductive swell of her breasts teasing and visible at this angle. I had to force myself to look her in the eye, but my little indiscretion didn’t go unnoticed. She made atsk-ing sound with her tongue.

It was like I was seeing her for the first time. And I had seen her wearing a stunning piece for Frank’s party, but that was before we’d agreed to take the next step. Before I knew for a fact that one day, I’d get to have all that she was because she was giving it willingly.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, realizing I’d fucked up every single rule of dating etiquette. Hadn’t walked up to the door, hadn’t opened car door for her, hadn’t complimented her looks. “I should have…” I motioned at her house.

“Probably, but I’m a big girl. I can find my way to the vehicle.” She smiled, then got into the Camaro.

There was a new scent in the air almost instantly. It was sweet and tart and excruciatingly seductive.

I pressed the button and all the windows slid up, cutting us off from the real world and making everything graciously dark.

“I didn’t expect you to drive,” Camille said, fastening her seat belt.

“Were you expecting me to hire a limo to drive us around while we eat takeout and watch movies on a twelve-inch TV?”

She laughed.

I leaned in and brushed my mouth against hers. It was the softest of kisses, but I wanted it badly, so I took the liberty of allowing myself this one transgression.

She didn’t pull back or resist.

There was just the purr of the engine and the barely discernible sounds of our breathing. I couldn’t actually hear them, but I could feel them in the shiver of the air between our faces and I could see them in the rise and fall of our chests.

“I hope you’re hungry,” I said, finally rearranging my body in my seat.

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