Page 55 of Rocked By the Alpha

When he returns to the lounge, he finds her examining his guitar, her fingers stroking over the strings.

“Is this your guitar?”

“It’s the one I keep in the house for messing around on. It’s not the one I use on stage.”

“It’s beautiful. Will you play me something?”

He rests the bowl of corn on the coffee table and takes a seat beside her on the couch, nesting the guitar in his arm.

“What would you like me to play?”

“I don’t mind. I just want to hear you play.”

He rests his fingers against the strings and breathes in, her scent mixed with the butter travelling down his throat. He closes his eyes and strums out the notes that have been revolving around and around in his head. He’s only got the beginning of something and after a few seconds he stops and opens his eyes.

“Is it something new?”

“Something I’m working on, yes.”

“I like it.“ She cocks her head, licking her bottom lip. “Play it again.”

He repeats the rift and she hums it to herself when he’s finished, her slim fingers tapping against her thigh. “I think if you …”

Her eyes meet his.

“Go on,” he says.

“You could play something like this over the top.” She hums out the notes of a melody and he nods, playing his tune again. She’s right, they blend together. It takes his notes and amplifies them, electrifies them. “Do you have a piano?” she asks.

“Not a piano, but I have a keyboard in the music room.”

“You have your own studio?”

“Not really. More somewhere to jam.” He leads her through to the back of the house, lights flicking on as they walk through. “It’s sound proofed,” he explains, opening the door and letting her through. “But I don’t know why. I hardly use it. We usually write at Ash’s or at the studio. The nephews and nieces use it more than me.”

“They’re budding musicians too?” she asks, strolling around the room, her fingers trailing over the amplifiers, the drum set and finally the electronic keyboard.

“Some of them.”

“Guitar?”

“Ha. No, they all want to be drummers. It’s sicker apparently.”

She looks up from the piano, a smile twitching over her lips. “Yeah, there’s something really hot about a drummer.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’ve been using me to get to Trey?”

“Trey is pretty hot.”

He growls theatrically at her and she laughs.

“Second guitarists don’t do it for you?” he says.

“Second guitarists can be hot.”

“Can they now?”

“You see, they are particularly skilled with their fingers.”