“How’s that?” I whispered, kissing her ear as my fingers continued to work along her collarbone. She sighed in response, not capable of speaking. I chuckled and continued to rub. I worked my way down the length of her spine. Her back arched at my touch. When I was finished, I pulled her back into my arms.
“Wow, that was amazing,” she said, a dreamy smile on her face. I laughed and kissed her lips.
“Anything for you, Belle,” I murmured, stealing another kiss.
We lay in each other’s arms watching TV, but not really watching anything at all. Every now and then I would kiss her or touch her—something to make her remember I was there.
“Can you play me something?” she asked, smiling up at me.
“What?” I said, confused until I saw her glance towards my guitar. “Oh,” I chuckled, suddenly getting it. I moved out from under her and reached for the guitar. I’d been working on a song, one that I wasn’t sure I was ready to share with her.
I began to strum my fingers against the strings. With my eyes closed I began to sing, softly at first. My heart was pounding, like I couldn’t believe I was doing this. This song was about her and she had to know that. I put into the song all the things I’d wanted to tell her that I couldn’t bring myself to. This song ripped me open and completely exposed me to her.
Walking round in circles, never reaching the end.
Time moving by me as I try to pretend.
Out of the shadows you stepped into my heart.
Your love filled the cracks that were breaking me apart
Everything that is beautiful is caught up in you,
I’m so into you baby, that this is what I wanna do,
These feelings make me nervous, something so new,
But I’m into you darlin’ and I’m gonna see this through…
As the notes died down, I forced myself to look at her. She was staring at me, her eyes brimming with tears. I smiled at her as I undressed, ignoring the pounding in my chest. That was the first time I had ever sung in front of anyone, and I chose the song I wrote about her?
“Was that about me?” she whispered, reaching for my hand.
“No, it was about the postman,” I said, shaking my head. “Of course it was about you,” I said nervously. She laughed, her face flushing.
“It was beautiful,” she whispered, leaning forward and kissing me. “Jack, you’re really good. Really, really good,” she said, her eyes wide. I put the guitar down and shrugged.
“I’m not that good. I mean I’m okay… You’re the first person I’ve ever played in front of,” I added quietly.
“Why? You’re really good. You look so comfortable holding that guitar, like you were born to play it.”
I laughed. “The only thing I was born to do was take over my father’s business.”
“Do you like what you do? Working for your dad?”
I shrugged. “I don’t hate it,” I answered. “It fills in the time.”
“I want more than something that fills in the time,” Belle replied, her fingers tracing along my arm. “I want to love whatever it is I do. I don’t want to wake up day after day and wonder what the hell it is I’m doing.”
“I used to think like that,” I admitted. “When I was fourteen, Luke, me, and the guys formed a rock band.” I laughed, thinking back at the memory of our one and only show in Luke’s garage. It had fallen apart shortly after, mainly because none of the others knew how to play anything. Or sing, for that matter. And I suffered from some pretty severe stage fright. Belle laughed.
“Oh my god, that’s so cute!” she giggled. I tickled her waist, only making her laugh harder. “Stop!” she screeched, tears in her eyes. Sitting up, I scooped her into my arms.
“Do you want to join me in bed?” I asked. “I can rock your world,” I added huskily. She giggled and kissed the tip of my nose.
“You already rock my world, Mr. Falcon.”
I winced. “Don’t call me that. It makes me picture my father. I never want to picture you and my father,” I added jokingly. She burst out laughing and wrapped her arms around my neck as I carried her into the bedroom.