“Oh. I like them. I’m keeping them. That’s not the point.”
“It’s not?”
“Why do you keep drawing me?”
“Not to swell your head, but I find your body fascinating.” I finished a third study of his fingers.
“I’m no model.”
“Not what I heard.”
He rested his chin on his stacked arms. “Checking up on me?”
“You wish.”
“I do. You never reply to my posts online, either.”
“What posts?” I tried not to smile as I absently drew his eyes with the glasses on.
“Mmm-hmm.” He rolled to a seated position and pulled his guitar case over. He crossed his legs and absently tuned it. His utter focus had me flipping the page to draw him in his element.
The way his fingers spanned across the body of the guitar and gently wrapped around the frets made my mouth go dry. He lightly strummed and hummed before words slowly tumbled from his lips.
It wasn’t a song I knew. And he kept his voice low and soft.
The sun was high over us, but the hairs on the backs of my arms lifted and danced.
I’m not the one you can bring home.
Not to Mum, not to Dad.
I’m far too good to be bad.
But they don’t know, can’t know, how I could make you scream.
In my dreams.
Oh, in my dreams.
Take this man.
Take this woman.
I won’t ask for your promises.
Can’t make them myself.
I’ll be gone tomorrow.
But I’ll be here tonight.
All night.
For you.
Inside you.
His gaze was intent on me. It echoed everything from our morning together. There was no future in us, but there were moments where I wished it were different. That he was someone who could be in my life, in my bed, in my heart. The air was thick between us, and I was tempted to climb onto his lap and show him just how deeply the words affected me.