Page 95 of Interpreter

“Please don’t stop,” I whisper, checking to see if he’s still on the phone. He could have hung up while I was getting this candle. He doesn’t answer, and I wonder if he can read my lips in the flickering light. But after a beat, he takes a deep breath, his fingers taking their previous position on the guitar. And then he begins to sing. Soft and delicate. Ethereal. And I find myself eating up the space between us as if I can’t wait another second to watch his face as he throws his head back and mourns something so beautiful… so raw… so full of passion, that tears streak down my cheek.

This isn’t the lullaby he was singing to Aspen. This is the fire that burns bright, deep within his soul, that very few have witnessed. This is Tim showing me the real him. The song is so soulful and exquisite… I’ve never heard anything like it.

Moving closer to the piano where he’s seated on its bench, I set the candle down.

“I didn’t realize you could play the guitar,” I say almost shyly. The melody drifts off, and Tim’s ocher eyes open and he speaks softer than he sang. “Come here.”

Two words.

It’s not a question.

I nod, watching his throat work as his fingers pick the strings of the guitar effortlessly.

My feet are heavy and weighted as I step into him and wait for more instructions.

But rather than speak again, Tim fingers the hem of my—his—shirt, dropping the beautiful melody with a violent scratching sound. His long finger hesitates at my abdomen, slipping underneath the fabric and following the line of my hip bone. Patient. Torturous. But I think that’s exactly how he wants it.

He wants me to crave another touch.

Another rasp of his voice.

Another sentence. Anything.

And, well, I’m not picky, so I’ll take anything.

“I—” My awkward word is cut off with a yank of my hip, propelling me into his chest, the guitar the only barrier between us. Both of his hands go around my waist, settling me, and I don’t dare speak again when his lips hover over mine like he might kiss me.

“Shh…,” he whispers instead. Immediately, I feel the weight of sadness settle around us. This is my goodbye song. I force a nod and a fake smile like I understand when he lets one hand go and raises the guitar, setting it on the floor next to him, leaving his lap open.

“Turn around,” he orders.

I only hesitate for a moment. I’m a glutton for punishment, but let’s be honest, I want as much of him as I can take with me. Even if it’s only a memory.

He raises his brow, noting the hesitation. But then those dark eyebrows turn down into something more seductive before his hands grip my hips, flip me around, and plant me on his lap faster than I can react properly—like with a moan or something sexier than basically a squeal and a gulp.

I wiggle into a more comfortable position, but muscles bigger than my thighs tighten around me with a barely there whisper. “Don’t even think about it.”

Oh, I’m thinking about it. I’m thinking about wiggling my ass up his thighs until it reaches the dick in his boxers.

But I don’t get the chance.

Tim’s hand slides slow and soft up my hips, along my ribs, cresting over my jaw until it stops at the front of my throat. I swallow—not from fear, but because if I don’t, I might drool down his hand. Yeah, he’s that damn sexy.

“Relax,” he coos in my ear, sending about a dozen tingles down my spine.

Exhaling, I relax into his hold and let him pull me back into his hard chest.

Ah, yes, this is much better.

His hand hovers at my throat for a moment as if it pains him to put it there. He sucks in a choppy breath, rubbing his palm along my neck only once before dropping to my thighs. With slow strokes, he inches my legs open wider, revealing the heat between them.

“Don’t move,” he tells me.

Yeah, I think he can count on that. These legs only want to shut around his face or his hips. I don’t care which at this point. Screw the soreness. I nod weakly and watch as his glorious hands remove themselves and reach around for his guitar, laying it across me.

Uh. What? You have got to be freaking kidding me.

Seriously? He’s just going to resume playing now that he has me contained?

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