“Again,” she breathed.
Then she kissed him. Her breath hiccupped in her throat as she fisted her hand in the front of his jacket and pulled. She had as much chance of moving him as she did of moving one of the trees in her backyard; all she did was yank herself full length against his body but it was worth it to feel his size and strength, how immovable he was. She didn’t even rock him on his feet when their bodies made contact from thighs to chest. It wasn’t the most sophisticated kiss she’d ever given, mashing their lips together just long enough for blood to bloom in her mouth. Conn stood rigid just long enough for her to get a hint of his erection against her belly. She looped her free arm around his neck, knowing this was spiraling out of control, unable to help herself.
His hair bristled against her palm when she cupped his nape. Conn let out a rough growl, hoisted her right off her feet, and walked her backward, into the wall. Head, shoulders, and hips hit at the same time, knocking the wind from her. His kiss left her no chance to get it back, deep and thorough and definitely, definitely caring about something. Wanting something.
“What is it with you and walls?” she gasped when he came up for air.
“Gotta make sure you’re not going anywhere,” he replied. He tugged down the collar on her V-neck sweater, and sucked at the thin skin over her collarbone.
She wriggled and tried to climb his body to notch his cock where she wanted it, needed it. “Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”
His hand was on his belt when a sharp knock came at the door. “Cady? Eve says we’re pretty well ready to go down here.”
Natalie, Eve’s manager and friend. This wasn’t her house, her wall. She had a show to give.
Conn looked at her, his eyes sharp and glinting with the unwanted return to reality. “You’re going somewhere, Queen Maud. You’re definitely going somewhere.”
He leaned away from the wall, easing up the pressure so she could lower her feet to the floor. “Thanks,” she called. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
Conn clasped his hand to the back of his head, and turned his back to her. Cady inhaled deeply, then ran a couple of scales, just in case Natalie was still listening. Conn was staring at her, expression dialed back to blank.
She picked up her guitar case. “Let’s do this.”
*
A cheer went up when she stepped through the office door. Cady smiled, waved both hands, took a quick picture for her social media accounts, then set off down the spiral staircase leading from Eve’s office. Conn stayed one step in front of her, surprisingly deft on his feet for a man built like a solid wall of muscle. Eve was waiting at the base of the stairs, guiding Cady through to the patio. Conn’s thick, outstretched arm gave her a few inches of breathing room. She needed it. When she’d fisted her hand in his shirt she’d revealed the ink hiding under the soft cotton. Just a hint of the sharp geometric design gave her flashbacks to the night before.
Before she quite knew what was happening, she was seating herself on the stool on the little stage, adjusting the microphone and her guitar. She looked up but the fairy lights strung from the tent’s center pole didn’t do much to dispel the winter darkness.
“Hi,” she said. “I’m Maud.”
Then she launched into the acoustic version of “Street (of) Dreams,” a song she wrote years before, after visiting a showcase of homes with her mom and Emily. It was about looking into the windows of enormous homes her mom would never own, in neighborhoods where she didn’t belong, after her divorce became final. Even at the age of twelve she could see her mother wondering if her decision to divorce was the wrong one.
She didn’t sing the song often; it wasn’t popular enough to make it into a concert set list, so only her truest fans who’d listened to every song on every album multiple times knew the words. But these were her truest fans, clapping along, and it felt right now, a way for her to work through the questions troubling her.
“I don’t know what just happened there, but that was good.” She strummed a few chords, smiled at someone’s shouted Yeah!
But she did know what happened. Conn happened. Conn and his rough mouth and muscled shoulders, his tight fists and iron control. That thought turned at the back of her mind as she spoke. “Songs always surprise me. I think I know them. I mean, I wrote that song, I should know it, right? But sometimes they surprise me. Maybe it’s not the song. Maybe I’m different.”
Where did we get the idea that dreams would pay us? The question lingered at the back of her mind as she scanned the crowd.
“I remember you,” she said to one man in the third row. He froze, then gestured to himself. “Me?”
“You used to work in SoMa, at Il Cortile, right? You’d come outside and listen during your breaks, or before the dinner rush started.”
“Yeah,” he said. “I did.”
“What do you want to hear?”