“Much better.” I clear my throat and turn to Luke. “You wanna get in there for the chorus? If you guys can give me a couple of good passes, we’ll just stack the vocals to fill that sound out some.”
The rest of the song goes relatively smoothly. They knock out the chorus and the bridge. We lay some background vocals they do themselves. Kai guzzles a steady stream of Amber’s magical tea, and her voice, though tired, holds for the night.
It’s two o’clock in the morning when we’re done. So much of this industry happens in studios while everyone else sleeps. I’m exhausted, but color still swirls in my mind. I keep hearing new things that came to me while Kai sang, notes that will enrich the song. Everyone else packs up, but I’ll stay and hammer out the parts I want to add.
The energy from Kai’s verse still churns inside of me. Were it up to me, I know exactly where this energy would go. I’d pour it into my sweet girl. In our bed. Between our sheets. But she wants slow so that we get this right. And I want this right even more than I want what’s between those beautiful legs of hers. So for now, my piano will be my release, as it has been so often over the last two months.
I’m about to get started in the small piano room adjoining Cherry, when I look up to see Kai standing at the entrance. I wasn’t even sure she would say goodbye because I have no idea how “not public” she wants us. I’ll follow her lead on it because, left to me, she’d be wearing a Property of Rhyson Gray sign. I’d write it in the sky if she’d let me.
I gesture for her to come in, and she walks over to stand right in front of me.
“You got a ride home?” I lean against the piano and push the hair over her shoulder, my hand dropping to palm her waist. She’ll have to pull away if she’s concerned about someone seeing us because I can’t not touch her.
“Yeah.” She looks up at me, the same restrained energy in her eyes that churns inside of me. “I’ve got San’s truck.”
Gus and Monty come through to wave a final goodnight, their speculative eyes bouncing between Kai and me. After what they’ve probably read about us being apart, they must be as confused as I am half the time. With them leaving and Amber long gone, it’s just Kai and me in the studio. When she leaves it’ll be just me like it’s been so many nights since she left.
“I should go,” she whispers, stepping back.
“You were amazing.” I tighten my hand at her waist, hoping I can keep her for a few more minutes.
“Thank you.” She smiles. “I mean that. Thank you for bringing something so much better out of me than I thought I had.”
She opens her mouth like there’s more she would say, but she bites her lip and drops her gaze to the floor. I lift her chin with one finger until I have her eyes again.
“What is it, Pep?”
A breath stutters over her lips and emotion deepens the rich brown of her eyes to sable.
“Did you feel it?” The heat in her eyes mesmerizes me. “When I sang for you? Did you feel it?”
I don’t bother answering her question. I just haul her into me, hands cupping her ass and tongue in her mouth before she can waste time with more words. Who needs words when we have this? This living, panting thing that ignites every second we’re together. Lust and love rub against each other vigorously like two sticks making sparks fly, the first sign of fire. I feather kisses down her soft cheeks until I reach her lips again. She opens for me, warm and eager. My hands glide past her waist and up her body until I cup either side of her face, holding her still so I can plunder that sweetness over and over until I’m satisfied. Only there’s no satisfaction, just more hunger. It claws out of my belly and drags her closer.
“Rhyson, oh God,” she husks against my lips. “I-I . . . need . . .”
Her arms wrap around my neck, pressing our bodies so close not even a breath would dare intrude. But her words intrude. What she said yesterday in the barn about going slow and getting it right, it intrudes as much as I don’t want it to.
I pull back, hands at her hips, to look down at her.
“Pep, you know where this goes.” I shake my head. “If we don’t stop, I won’t stop. You know that, right?”
The hunger in her eyes answers me.
“Yeah.” She blinks rapidly, her hand tightening behind my neck, fingers plowing into my hair.
“You know I want this.” I feel the window closing, that window where I give her a choice in this, where I let her go home. “But you said slow, baby. I just . . . I don’t want you to regret this, or see it as a setback for us. It wouldn’t be to me.”
“I just . . .” Her eyes pick up where her words leave off, telling me that I’m not the only one lonely or needy tonight after so long apart. “What we felt tonight in the studio, I need that.”
“What are you saying?” I know what she’s saying, but she’s gonna have to say it. And once she does, that’s it. The timetable, the slow pace—all of it goes poof, and good riddance.