Page 120 of Save Your Breath

As ina fun little one-time thing?

Before I could overanalyze too much, a more pressing thought struck me hard enough to make me bolt upright.

“Fuck, Mia. We didn’t use a condom.”

She arched a brow. “You’re just now noticing this?”

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t even stop to think—”

“It’s okay,” she assured me, tugging on my bicep until I reclined back with her again. “I am a young woman in the twenty-first century. I do have means of protecting myself against an unplanned pregnancy. And it’s not like either of us have slept with anyone in a while.” Her smile slipped a bit at that, worry etching between her brows. “Unless… have you…” She swallowed. “Have you—”

“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to,” I warned her, pulling her into me. I surrounded her with my body — one leg sliding between hers, hand hiking her leg up on my hip before Ismacked her ass. “I made a promise to you, remember? I haven’t been with anyone. No one but you, Strings.”

I felt her lips curl against my chest, felt her let out a soft sigh of contentment and relief as she curled into me like a kitten. I rested my chin on the crown of her head, stroking her hair with one hand while the other rubbed her back.

We were quiet for a long while, just listening to the rain and wind outside. Even though we’d lost power, I had a feeling the worst of the storm had missed us. I didn’t need the ability to turn on a TV to confirm it. If we were getting the brunt of it, we’d know.

I knew we needed to clean up, but a sick part of me loved lying there with her knowing my cum was still inside her, that her mouth tasted like me and mine tasted like her. I wrapped her up a little tighter at the thought, kissing her hair on a sated sigh.

“That song you were playing,” I said after a while, and I wondered if she’d started falling asleep because Mia jumped a bit when I spoke. “It’s not on the album.”

“No,” Mia confirmed, running one finger over my chest. She traced the lines of the lion tattoo I had there, her chipped nail polish making me smile.

“Why? Is it new?”

Her shoulders lifted a bit. “It just didn’t make the cut.”

“Well, it should have.”

“It’s not poppy enough.”

“It doesn’t need to be.”

“It’s too honest, too vulnerable, too… sad.”

I leaned up on one elbow then, caging her between me and the bean bag as I swept her hair from her face.Fuck, she was beautiful — hair a mess from having my hands in it, cheeks flushed, lips swollen.

“That’s exactly why I loved it.”

The corner of her mouth tilted and fell again, her eyes soft under where her brows pinched together. “You liked it?”

“It was beautiful, Mia. It reminded me of when I’d catch you playing when we were younger, when you thought no one was listening. That was always when you were at your best. It was when I got to see the real musician inside you — the one not thinking about what sells or has a snappy beat.”

“Hey, I like snappy beats.”

“I do, too,” I clarified. “I like everything you write, everything you play.” I shrugged. “I just like the honest, vulnerable, sad songs most.”

“Masochist.”

“Guilty.” I tapped her nose. “You should release it — the one you played tonight.”

“The album’s already out.”

“So? You make the rules, Mia Love. Play it as an encore song at the Garden. Tell them you weren’t sure what they’d think of it, so you kept it off the album, but now you want to share it with them. Release it at midnight after the show. And then immediately call me when it hits number one on the streaming charts and tell me I was right.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “Okay first of all, I need to record it.”

“Like you can’t do that in New York. Don’t add more to it. Just you and your piano,” I said, nodding toward the one in my living room. “That’s all you need.”