Smiling, I played his notes and sang to him, “Oh, maybe. Maybe, this time I’m not wrong. Maybe, he’s the melody. Maybe, he’s the perfect song.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” He pressed harder on the keys, pushing more emotion out of the piano.
I showed off, hitting higher notes. “Maybe. Maybe, I can give him my heart. Maybe, he’ll be my king. Maybe, we’ll never be apart.”
“Damn.” He played the melody again, stopped, grabbed his notebook, and dove into writing. I grinned. He reminded me of myself—addicted to the process, always scribbling notes, always writing a song.
Without looking up from his writing, he said, “I thought I told you not to work until you’re okay.”
“You started the song.”
“You inspired it. Stop it.”
“You stop it.”
He looked up and licked those lips again. “I think we will make beautiful music together.”
“Me too.”
“But we’ll focus.”
“We will.
And then he directed his gaze to my breasts. I did too and noticed my nipples poking through the knit material. Embarrassed, I covered them with my arms. “So...I should go.”
He grunted.
I rose.
He drank me in, not even pretending to not enjoy the dress hugging my body.
Damn. Gio. Why are you so fucking irresistible?
I backed away. “I will see you tomorrow?”
He smirked. “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” I whispered and walked away.
“Wait,” he said.
I stopped. My will was slowly cracking. If he pushed the topic of sex any further, I would be butt naked and moaning all over his piano.
Why the hell did I say ‘Maybe?’ I mean, can’t I let go just this once?
I turned around. “Yes?”
He rose from the piano and walked over to me. “I wouldn’t be a good host if I didn’t walk you back to my bedroom.”
The way he said his bedroom made it clear to me that he expected me to sleep there tonight. Even crazier, there was a ferocity to the words that set my skin on fire.
“Okay,” I said in a low voice. “But we said last night was going to be the last time I would stay with you—”
“Stay in my bed again, princess.” He got in front of me and leaned my way. “Please, stay.”
With him so close, I could barely calm my hormones.
He slipped his gaze over my face. “Mmmm. Are you nervous about sleeping in my bed?”
“No,” I whispered.
“I can behave.”
“You’ve shown me that.”
“Have I?” He pulled me toward him.
My breathing increased.
When he leaned over and kissed me, I didn’t resist. With those lips and sexy words, how could I?
There was a restrained yearning in his kiss, as if he’d never touched another’s lips, and had waited all his life to devour mine.
God, his kisses are addictive. I want one every day.
All other thoughts left my mind. I kissed him back, tasting wine on his lips. He traced my lower lip with his tongue and it pushed me over my ledge of control. Primal need hit me. I moaned in pleasure.
“Mmmm.” He leaned away, caressed my face with his fingertips, and whispered, “Still, maybe?”
I couldn’t even respond as I struggled with catching my breath.
He stepped away, right as I thought he would kiss me again.
Maybe? Who am I kidding? I want him right now.
But Gio didn’t press the matter any further or try to kiss me. His face said cool confidence, while the front of his pants screamed hard and horny.
“Simone. Simone.” He shut off the lights, locked up the studio, and walked me back to his bedroom. I figured he would continue our sexy conversation, but instead, he asked me more about my parents.
“Why didn’t you spend the holidays with them?” he asked.
“I’m trying to make it. I’m working, when others play. I’m writing, when others sleep. I’m trying to win.”
“You will. In some ways, you already have.”
“How?” I asked.
“You’re here. I won’t stop until everyone knows your name, even though...”
“What?” I asked.
“Even though I don’t want to share you.” He opened the back door for me to his house. “Still, when’s the last time you’ve seen your family?”
“I’m embarrassed to say it.”
“Go ahead. No judgment here.”
“Three years. I call every week, but the last time I could afford to take off and see them was three years ago.”
“We’ll have to change that.”
“How?” I asked.
“I’ve got my surprises.”
We got to his bedroom and it should’ve been odd, but I felt right at home in his space. I took my small luggage bag into his bathroom and changed into a comfortable nightgown, nothing too frumpy looking or even sexy.
I walked over to the bed and again he sat in his chair.
“Goodnight,” he said.
I placed my hands on my hips. “You can’t sleep there.”
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s my room.”
“You should sleep in your own bed.”
Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair. “I know, but I don’t want you anywhere else but here.”
“I wasn’t saying that I would leave your room if you slept in your own bed.”