Page 25 of Grave Misgivings
And every time he’d grin, his eyes shining with pride and excitement like I wasit.Like I was a star.
And I held on to every smile, every word of praise like it was fucking air.
But his favorite wasHellbound.
I get lost in the memories for a few minutes. Mourning what could’ve been if only I’d had the balls.
“It would be fun to do a double album. Hellbound and Heaven Sent,” he said.
“The artwork would be sick! Can you imagine? Just like one could be all black with glowing neon devil horns,” I replied as I grabbed my sketchbook. “Oh! Maybe a swishy devil tail.”
“Oh! The Heaven Sent one could have neon blue angel wings. And a halo,” he gushed, his eyes shining.
“Heaven Sent could have all these religious undertones, too. You know, go all in on the heavenly metaphors.”
Geo strummed away on his guitar, his glasses sliding down his nose just a fraction and the corners of his lips perked up in a smile. He always looked sexy as hell when he smiled like that.
“You’d have to write all the Hellbound songs, though,” he demanded as I sketched away some angel and devil wings next to him.
He leaned back, the motion making the couch cushions dip just a fraction, which put us closer together.
I nonchalantly leaned back against the cushions behind us, and he didn’t move.
I could smell his sweet orange blossom and spice scent. I glanced up for the fraction of a moment, noting the slender expanse of his exposed neck, the curve of his Adam’s Apple. I stopped sketching.
“Why do you say that?” I asked, swallowing hard.
I watched his long fingers play with the strings, his touch delicate and precise. His hands, the perfect design. Calloused from playing, but supremely hot when you watch him do it. The way his fingers glide, the way the muscles and joints move, making the veins stand out.
I thought about those hands often, wondering what they’d feel like in my hair. Around my neck.
“Because you’re the expert, of course,” he says lightly.
I let out a nervous laugh.
“You calling me a demon, Geo?”
Geo turned toward me, the motion making his thigh brush against mine. He smirked. “If the shoe fits, Z.” His dark, amber gaze implored me as he handed me his guitar.
I took it from his hands, as he glanced at it.
“Play for me,” he ordered.
I bit my lip, because I knew I should say no. I sank a little closer to him as he leaned his arm against the back cushion, shifting once more, turning toward me.
“Please?”
He watched me with interest, and I knew I couldn’t say no.
How could I when he looked at me likethat?
“What do you want to hear?” I asked.
“Hellbound,” he said, leaning his head against his palm. His amber eyes sparkled as he smiled softly. “It’s my favorite.”
I smiled and nodded as I strummed out the chords.
“Heaven won’t take me because I’m a sinner
