Page 41 of Whiskey and Regret
I felt seen but not in a way that I appreciated. I felt exposed. I took another drink and stepped away from Xari.
“I think that statement is a bit…grand. Don’t you?” I tried to conceal how much she revealed with one statement.
“I think you’re starting to hide behind your stick in the mud act again.” She pulled her scrutinizing espresso eyes away from her harp and locked onto me. “You can tell yourself whatever you want, Evander Freeman. You can pretend writing is a hobby but you know it’s more than that.”
“Are you an oracle now? You know things I don’t even know about myself?”
I knew writing was more than a hobby. She was right. She hit the nail on the fucking head but I refused to let her know that.
“Yes, I’m the oracle. I know all. I see all.” She took a seat on the stool that matched her harp to a tee with the same blonde wood and ornate carvings and began playing again. I didn’t recognize the tune that time but it was classical. She played with ease but there was something mad beneath her surface. Something incessant and constant.
Insanity.
It sparked something hot like lava inside of me. I realized I could watch her play those strings forever. I would pay her just to hear music floating through the house all the time. It sounded like a concert in heaven.
When the music abruptly stopped, my ears fell into an abyss of silence and loneliness. Xari’s music was fucking brilliant.
“Did you hear that?” She asked, standing and taking a few steps toward me. Her narrow shoulders were squared like we were facing off or something.
“The music? Yeah.”
“No. The passion. The precision. I’m the absolute fucking best. Not because I can outplay any other harpist but because I get up and challenge myself every day. I go harder than I did the day before. I work until nothing makes sense and real-life bleeds away. Sometimes, I fall asleep playing.
You know why, Evander?” She tipped her head to one side and my hand broke the rules to touch her once again. My fingertips slid along her silky bare shoulder. Sun-kissed brown sugar.
“Why, Xari?” I asked with a sigh.
“Because I’m obsessed with it. It’s running through me. I play the harp in my sleep. I dream about sitting on stage with an orchestra. I play solos when I daydream. I see my audience and hear their applause.” The pulse at the base of her throat jumped with excitement and it was contagious. The more she spoke, the more I saw myself every night tapping away at keys. I saw myself hunched over my desk at work just getting any amount of words in so that my day didn’t feel like a waste.
Passion.
That’s what she sparked in me. I felt it crackle through my body like lightning. My pulse matched hers. I slid my finger to the dip between her delicate collarbones but I only let it sit for a second before moving to her chin, tipping her head up so I could see better into those pools of coffee. I wanted my lips on hers. I wanted to kiss away the color until nothing remained and she was bare.
She wanted it too. I saw the way her thick lashes dropped, casting half-moon shadows on her cheeks. I felt her breathing hitch and I saw the subtle goosebumps roll across her golden skin.
I dipped my head, studying the way sunlight licked her regal cheekbones and danced along her freckles. The desire to kiss her burned slow beneath my morals and logic, singeing the rope holding them together.
Her soft panting was warm on my lips. I could almost taste whatever fruity candy she’d been sucking on before. I wanted to taste the candy on her tongue. Sucking and probing and owning.
“Xari did your harp come?” Frankie’s voice bounced around the corner. It was a grenade destroying any semblance of a kiss that might have been shared between us.
Wide espresso eyes popped open and regarded me. A soft flush crept across the tops of her cheeks and mottled her throat like she held the same burning desire inside that I did. I had to get the fuck away from her before I made some bad decisions.
I’d never been happier to see my child walk into a room. Her bight eyes and smiling face put me where I was supposed to be. I was a father. I was a goddamn senator, and I’d employed Xari to take care of my daughter when I was at work.
I couldn’t get caught fucking my nanny. It was to cliché. It would tarnish my image. Alexis would have a field day and try to take Frankie back. That was all the motivation I needed to pretend like that almost-kiss never happened.
“Yeah, it came. All in one piece too,” Xari grinned. It was pulled a little too tight. I tried to steal a glance at the tell-tale thump at the base of her throat but she’d already dissolved into her role with Frankie. I took that as my sign to get the hell out of there and back to the den where I could throw myself into my book. It was either that or go to my room, lock the door, and jerk my dick until I came.
…
ELEVEN
“Wake up! Wake up!”
I pushed my satin sleep mask onto my forehead and looked at Frankie bouncing on my bed like a lunatic.
“What’s up, Frank?” I dragged myself into a sitting position and waited for her to explain why she was waking me up.
