Page 7 of Sing for Me
That matters, that I'm alive.
That we're alive.
He lets out a low groan.
The same low groan he lets out on...
Oh God.
My eyes blink open.
That's him.
Miles.
His eyes are blue. And they're filled with unspeakable need.
Then his eyelids are pressing together and his lips are crashing into mine.
His fingers find the waistband of my pajama bottoms.
Then slide beneath it.
Fuck.
My mind goes blank.
I don't feel any hurt or anguish or emptiness.
I only feel desire.
Pure, raw desire.
CHAPTER THREE
––––––––
My skin is slick with sweat.
This is a thin sheet, but right now it feels heavy.
It's too hot.
Even with the window open.
Even with the breeze blowing morning air over my bed.
The sky is that soft blue color. The color of dawn. And of the hospital beds in the ER.
I can't be having sex dreams about rock stars.
I'm not about to fall in love with some guy I'll never meet because his song speaks to me.
This is it. No more listening toIn Pieceson repeat. No more watching that video. No more thinking about him. Period.
***
Damn successful rock stars.In Piecescontinues to dominate my radio. Then the band releases a new song. It's not as big of a hit, but it's there, haunting me every time I change the station, popping up on Pandora.
