Listen to Me (Fusion 1)

“Excuse me?”

“I love Johnny Cash. Especially the old stuff.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No,” she says and giggles, then shocks the hell out of me by linking her fingers with mine. “He was amazing. I also like newer stuff like Daughtry and I’ve always loved the Goo Goo Dolls.”

“What about Hard Knox?” I ask, unable to help myself.

She looks up at me with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t have your posters on my walls.”

“I don’t give a fuck about posters,” I reply honestly. “It was never about that shit for me.”

“I loved your music,” she replies softly and stops us, right here, on the sidewalk so she can look up at me. “ ‘Simply Red’ is my favorite song, but I knew them all. Your voice gives me goose bumps. But that’s not why I’m here tonight.”

“Why are you here?”

She glances down, but I catch her chin with my finger and make her look me in the eye.

“I’m here because I can’t seem to say no to you, even though I want to say no to you. I don’t have a good history with musicians.”

“Dated a few?” I ask, feeling my gut clench. I know how musicians can be in relationships. Hell, I know how men can be.

“My share,” she says with a nod. “So, I’m not here because you’re a successful musician, Jake, I’m here in spite of it. I’m here because I feel the chemistry between us.”

“And because you like me.”

“I didn’t say that.” She smiles now, relief in her eyes. “I’m still deciding on that.”

I take her hand and continue leading her down the sidewalk to Sweet Treats. “How can I tip the scales in my favor?”

“Tell me what kind of damn music you like already.”

“I like the bands you mentioned,” I reply thoughtfully.

“Of course you do.” Sarcasm drips off of every word, making me laugh.

“But I also love B. B. King. Sarah McLachlan. Alan Jackson. Maroon 5. Sugarland.”

“Wow, that’s quite a range of sounds.”

“I told you, I love music. I respect it all. It all evokes different emotions, feelings.”

She nods. “Where did it start for you? The music?”

“Birth.” I laugh and pull her to the side as a bicyclist zooms past us. “My dad played the guitar, and loved music. The radio was always on.”

“Did he teach you to play?” she asks as we walk into Sweet Treats and start staring at the menu.

“He did.”

“Should I get a milk shake?” she asks thoughtfully.

“Baby, my boys are already in your yard,” I reply, eyeing the brownie sundae.

She blinks, then bursts out laughing. “Now I have to get a milk shake.”

We place our order and, treats in hand, walk slowly back toward my car.

“How’s your shake?” I ask.

“Chocolatey,” she says, and then sighs. “Damn you, Jake!”

“What?”

“Now I have that damn song in my head!” She starts to dance, moving her shoulders and ass. “My milk shake brings all the boys to the yard . . .”

I stop and watch, laughing at her as she sings all the words, moving that sexier-than-fuck body.

I’m a first-class idiot for taking sex off the menu tonight.

“THANKS FOR DINNER,” Addie says as she unlocks her door. “And dessert. And putting that song in my head. It’ll be there for weeks.”

“You’re welcome.” I grip her shoulders and turn her to face me, then smile down at her softly. “It was all my pleasure.”

She’s staring up at me, biting her lip, her blue eyes wide and maybe a little scared.

I understand that completely. She scares the fuck out of me too.

I cage her in against her door and tug her lip out of her teeth with my thumb, then brush it over the plump skin.

“You make me crazy when you bite your lip like that,” I whisper.

“So you’ve said,” she replies, watching my own mouth. “Jake?”

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“Kissing me now would be nice.”

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you?”

“I’m not little.”

“Just bossy then.” I cup her cheek in my hand, loving the softness of her skin, the way she’s breathing just a bit harder, the way the pulse in her throat thrums against my wrist. I brush my nose across hers, just barely skimming my lips over hers. She inhales sharply as my lips gently nibble hers.

Fuck me, she’s sweet.

Her hands grip my shirt at my hips as she presses closer to me, and I kiss her earnestly now. She tastes like chocolate, and what I’m quite sure is simply Addie. The kiss is slow and thorough, taking her all in. Her lithe, long body is pressed to mine, her arms wrapped around my back now, her nails barely gripping on to my skin through my shirt.

God, I can’t control myself with her. My body, my emotions.

She devastates me.

I pull back, breathing hard. “Sleep well, baby.”

She shakes her head, as if clearing the lust from it so she can think straight. “You’re not coming in?”

I drag my fingertips down her cheek, her neck, then tip my forehead down against hers. “Trust me, I want to. I want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life, Addison. But this isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon.”

“Did you just use a running analogy?”

I grin and kiss her softly. “Yes.”