Page 96 of Interpreter

Uh, no, sir. Where is my foreplay? Or, hell, he can just breathe on me a little more. I am pretty sure I can come from that. We’re literally down to days together. I don’t want to play music. I want to go back up to bed and cherish having him all to myself for a little while longer.

Twisting around, I try to flash Tim mywhat the ever-loving fuck are you doinglook, when he grabs my hand and positions my fingers along the strings and adds pressure to the ones he wants me to hold down.

This is ridiculous. I love music, but when I’m spread-eagled in a chair… in this man’s lap… his hot breath against the back of my neck… his dick digging into my ass, the last thing I’m in the mood to do is play some music.

I’m emotional dammit.

“Be still,” he grumbles.

Be still.

Be. Freaking. Still. Milah.

American men are crazy. Sexy as hell… but crazy. I want to keep him, though. I’m not saying I don’t.

“Stop thinking,” he whispers, before adding his own hand to the guitar, strumming the lower part of the strings while I hold down the upper bar strings—I don’t know what they’re called—playing the chords like the good little girl I am.

Really, I’m hoping this takes a turn, so for now, I’m behaving and doing what he asks. We had a rough day and will, ultimately, have a rough tomorrow. And the following week I will get on a plane, never to see him or Pe again.

The melody picks up, and the sound of our playing drifts throughout the bar. I’m silent until I feel his free hand at my waist. His soft fingers trail up my thigh, slipping under the thin fabric of my shirt.

“Touch me, please,” I beg, but he doesn’t hear me. Instead his fingers drag along my inner thigh until the torture sends my head back, resting on his bare chest. He kisses the top of my head and then moves to the side of neck, kissing as he goes.

“Sing for me,” he whispers, his voice hungry. I swallow and tip my chin as an okay. I’m not familiar with the song he’s playing, but I doubt he cares what I sing, as long as I do. I start out in a hum, finding my pitch and deciding to stick with Céline, singing the song that started it all. Tim never stops strumming the guitar, but after a while, the pad of his finger finds my center and the melody begins to match my words.

I twist so I can see his face. “How did you know what I was singing?” Could he really hear the vibrations from my back enough to find the tune?

“Because I know you,” he says simply. He moves my hand from the guitar and slips it out from between us and places it on the ground. “And because I feel you.” He lifts me effortlessly, and I help by turning around to face him. “I feel you here,” he whispers, placing my hand on his heart.

Aww, hell. I am going to work at Magic Michelle’s. No way am I going to leave this man.

Leaning in, I hold his gaze. “I love you.”

A tear falls between us, and his eyes track it before he looks at me and growls. “I’m going with you.”

“What?” He’s lost his mind. “What are you saying?”

His tongue wets his lips. “If you’re going back home, then I’m going with you. At least until you’re willing to marry me.”

“You’re loco.” A sweet kind of loco but still loco. “You have a family here,” I argue.

He raises that ridiculous eyebrow. “So do you.”

“It’s not the same thing. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Really. This is crazy talk.

“You don’t be ridiculous.” His movement is jerky as he adjusts me on his lap, his cock long and hard, straining against my slit.

“Don’t try to cheat with that magnificent cock of yours. You can’t leave Aspen and Oliver here without you.”

At the mention of the kids, his jaw clenches. “Then marry me,” he offers.

I can see this conversation is going nowhere. We’ve been over this once. I push up and pull said magnificent cock out and hold his eyes. “The least you could do is fuck me if we’re going to argue.”

And… that was the wrong thing to say. Tim’s eyes turn darker and he slams me down, literally spearing me with his cock.

Breathe. I can’t freaking breathe as my body stretches around his girth. “See? That’s better,” I tease. “Now, carry on.”

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