Page 16 of His Greatest Muse

Appearing almost offended at the compliment, he awkwardly pats his thighs and hops off the couch. I stifle a laugh as he makes a beeline for the door.

“See you later! Don’t forget about the meeting with my dad!” I shout when he opens the door and goes to leave.

A backward glance is all I get before he’s gone. I blow out a breath and grab a water from the kitchen. The cool bottle feels soothing against my swollen, sore palms. Hours with my hands in wraps and gloves take their toll, but I wouldn’t change the pain for anything.

The soft plucking of guitar strings slips beneath Noah’s bedroom door, and my feet move on their own, taking me there. I nudge the door open and lean against the frame, attempting to keep my presence unknown for as long as possible.

Black hair falling over his face, he leans against his headboard, head dipped toward the black guitar in his hands. Longer fingers that I’ve seen bleed from the constant plucking of those strings move across the wooden neck in a caress so gentle it seems unnatural. He plays a tune I’ve never heard before, and my curiosity sparks. It’s soft, sad, almost angry in the most beautiful way.

I lean my head against the doorframe and watch, happiness warming my blood. It’s in these moments that I see a part of Noah he doesn’t show the rest of the world. The gentle, calm part of him that lives in his music.

His lips part and move to form silent words as he keeps his eyes closed, lashes fluttering. It’s selfish to want to hear the words he’s mouthing, but I’ve always been selfish when it comes to both Noah and his music.

Suddenly, he lifts his eyelids and looks at me, the soft notes still filling the room. “You could have come in.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“Come here.”

I push off the wall and sit on the edge of the bed. Long legs covered in dark denim drape down the mattress, resting behind me. I place my hands between his calves and lean back, turning to look at him more clearly. He stops tugging at the strings and arches a brow.

“Up here, Golden Girl,” he demands.

My lips tug at the corners as I shake my head. Is it bad that it makes me happy knowing he wants me as close as possible? “I’m good here. Your bed is too damn small for us both to fit that way.”

“We have before.”

“That was when you weren’t so damn big.” Back when he didn’t have wide shoulders and thick, muscled arms.

“You should blame that on my trainer.”

I snort a laugh. “Fine. As punishment, she’ll stay seated where she is.” His dark scowl makes me laugh harder. “If you keep scowling like that, your mouth will stay like that forever. Move over, rock star. I swear if you end up pushing me off the bed, you’ll regret it.”

He barely moves an inch, and I can’t find it in myself to push him on it. With little trouble, I maneuver myself so I’m leaning back against his headboard, my legs crossed at the ankles, running alongside his.

“So, you gonna tell me what song you were playing?” I ask softly.

He tucks his chin to his chest and stares down at the guitar, beginning to play again, just a tease of the melody I heard. “Not yet.”

“You’ve never kept a song from me before.”

The corner of his mouth tries to lift, but he fights to keep a straight face. “That bothers you?”

“Of course it does,” I admit, unafraid of him knowing how I feel.

“Be patient. I’ll tell you about it soon.”

“Soon,” I scoff. “How soon?”

He clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “That’s right. You’ve never been a patient girl.”

I’m surprised to find my cheeks flushing at the comment, from either embarrassment or how . . .sexualthat comment sounded.Get a grip.I swallow, scolding myself for even letting myself go there. But it’s impossible never to think that way when your best friend is Noah Hutton, so I cut myself some slack. I’m only human.

“I’m just going to keep bugging you about it until you give it up. We’re not supposed to keep secrets from one another.” I pout.

“It’s not a secret if I’m planning to tell you later.”

“Uh, yes it is. Who taught you how to keep secrets, because they did a terrible job.”

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