Page 49 of Whiskey and Regret
“You think I’m going to steal something? Evander, I’ve been in your house alone almost every day for a month.”
“No, I don’t think you’re going to steal anything,” he stammered. He shoved his big hands into his pockets.
“I have to practice playing,” I told him honestly. He pulled a smile tight across his face like a mask then nodded.
“Right. I forgot how disciplined you are when it comes to the harp. Well, call me if anything comes up.” He walked away from me, into the den and my shoulders fell.
Normally, I would have given him a hard time and threw it in his face that he technically asked me out. Something wouldn’t let me do it though. Something in me wanted to go with Evander to his office and the tournament. I liked his company even when we weren’t at each other’s necks.
I couldn’t abandon practice though. He knew that about me. I practiced daily. No matter what. It’s how I stayed sharp and on top of my game. It’s how I remained the best.
I was fixed to my spot by an invisible force. It held onto my shoes and gripped my ankles. Why the hell couldn’t I just call out to him and apologize?
I rubbed the bridge of my nose and went into the formal living room to light my candles and sit at the harp. I needed to disperse the weird energy trickling through me. The only way to do that was to dig into my music.
…
TWELVE
When I got home from the golf tournament, a cold glass of whiskey was calling my name. I walked into the kitchen and went to the Subzero to grab a piece of ice before heading to the den.
I didn’t bother going upstairs to my room to undress because I’d been away from my book all day and my characters were racing through my mind. Words were piling up in the corners of my brain and dripping down my conscious. It was a melody that I had to get out.
When I crossed into the den, I heard the familiar sounds of harp strings plucking notes into the air. It unwound the tightness of the day note by note. It was like a massage for my soul.
I’d never been into classical music no matter how much my parents tried to force it on me. I was a hip-hop and R&B kind of kid. I rejected Mozart and Bach. Instead, Aaliyah and Tupac songs fueled me.
Hearing the soothing sounds coming from the living room was different though. I knew she was playing something classical but I had no idea what the piece was. I let the notes calm me while I sat behind my desk and pulled out my laptop.
The more I listened to the hauntingly beautiful music floating in the air the more words flowed from my fingers. It was a gentle push and pull that I craved more of. When I hit a chapter break, I shut the laptop, grabbed my glass of whiskey, and went into the formal living room where Xari was.
As usual, she was so wrapped up in playing that she didn’t notice me standing there. Maybe it was the liquor in my system but I couldn’t stop staring at her. She was beautiful.
She still had on the black and white skirt and red shirt from earlier but her shoes were off and tucked in the corner. The balls of her feet were pressed against the floor and her heels were raised, flexing her calf muscles beneath velvet, sandy brown skin.
I wanted to lick that skin.
I wanted to bite that calf muscle and listen to her whine while I moved up her thighs to spread her pussy.
“Oh, I didn’t know you were home.” When the hell had she stopped playing? I didn’t even notice. I cleared my throat and nodded, moving to the couch.
“Yeah, I got in about an hour ago. I’ve been listening to you play. Have you been in this same spot all day, Xari?”
“No. I ate and went to the bathroom.”
“Jesus. You’re a machine.”
“I am not.” She stood up and stretched, reaching her hands toward the ceiling. Her shirt lifted, showing a sliver of her breasts from below.
Fuck. She wasn’t wearing a bra. My eyes immediately went to her nipples.
Stiff. Peaked. Pebbles.
“You take requests?” I quizzed, resting my ankle on top of my knee.
“Um, sure. I’m not used to it, but it should be fun. It’ll give me more practice.”
I took a long sip of whiskey and opened my laptop. “Can you playWhatever You Want, by…”
