Page 82 of Hard Rock Desires

When the song came to an end, I slowly opened my eyes and let my hand rest against the body of the guitar. I looked to Grace with nerves and anticipation.

She was staring at me, cheeks flushed and face awed.

“That was beautiful,” she whispered.

Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears. Something in my chest cracked right open.

“You made me cry.” She rubbed at her eyes with a sheepish laugh.

I fought to speak through my tight throat. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Is that going to be on your next album?” she asked.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” I replied. “Maybe.”

“It should be,” she said. “It’s wonderful.”

“I still need to write the lyrics.”

“I’m sure you can come up with something,” she beamed.

I wondered what Grace would think if I recorded a song all about her eyes and lips. At least those body parts were innocent enough. It wasn’t like I was writing a song about her luscious ass. I didn’t think she’d appreciate that. Maybe if I used some kind of flowery metaphor it would work, but that was the kind of shit Kaylee pulled, not me.

“It’s kind of sexy, watching you play.” Grace shifted on the sofa, moving closer.

“Onlykind ofsexy?” I set the guitar down carefully then hooked an arm around her waist. “I know you only ever give faint praise, but damn, that’s cold.”

“You’re not shirtless or wearing leather pants right now,” she pointed out. “You’ve set the bar pretty high for yourself, with that hotshot rock star persona you put on when you’re on stage.”

“Who said it’s a persona?” I replied. “I am a hotshot rock star.”

“That’s not all you are, though,” she said. “You’re thoughtful. And sweet. And caring.”

“You keep going like that and I really am going to get a swelled head.”

She brought her forehead to mine and cupped the back of my neck.

“And you’re a crappy baker,” she added with a flirtatious smile.

“Can’t argue with that one,” I said.

She brought her mouth close to mine.

“But you’ve got other talents to make up for it,” she whispered.

I lowered my head until our lips were just barely touching. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“You mean my guitar playing, right?” I said.

Her eyes flew open as she chuckled.

“Yes, it was definitely your guitar playing I was talking about just now,” she said.

“Did my fingering skills get you hot?” I smirked.

“Always with the double entendre,” she replied.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”