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“I just don’t want you fawning over me since we have to work together,” I try and play off my reaction to her as I cross my arms across my chest.
“Oh,” she chuckles and shakes her head, “you don’t need to worry about that. I might like your music and appreciate you have way more experience than me, but I can see that we’re in the same boat as well.”
“How do you figure?”
One of her perfect eyebrows arches as if to mock me and my dick fucking twitches. “We have an equal opportunity here to create something worth the label. This might be my first an only chance to show the label that I’m worth the chance, but it’s kind of yours as well.”
I find myself staring at Cove, taking all her in. The fire burning in her eyes, the determination, and her unwillingness to bow down and simper because of who I used to be, has part of the walls crumbling at her feet.
“We’ll see,” I grumble.
“Yeah, we will,” she snarks right back at me before turning and walking away.
I can’t stop myself from calling out, “Where are you going?”
She looks at me over her shoulder, her eyes sweeping over my body. “Since you have all the attitude of a fucking diva, I thought it would be better to channel that into the work.” She flashes me a sickly-sweet smile full of sarcasm and sass. “don’t want to lose that energy.”
I watch as she slips through the door that leads down to where the studio is, my eyes glued to her round ass. It’s more than a handful, just like her tits. My mouth waters when I think about getting my hands on her bare skin.
With a shake of my head, my feet start moving me toward where she disappeared.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
I’m in so much fucking trouble with this woman.
CHAPTER 4
COVE
We’ve been holed up in the studio of this amazing mountain mansion for two days now and I’m on fucking edge. Every time I look at Langston it’s like all the breath is squeezed out of my lungs. Not only is he amazing with his guitar, but there’s something so damn magnetic about him.
Then there’s the fact that I desperately want to run my fingers through his beard and the longer hair on the top of his head. The more I try to focus on anything else, the more the silky strands call to me. Okay, his beard does look rougher, but that just makes me imagine how it would feel between my thighs.
My stomach clenches with the thought and I focus on the notebook on my lap like it holds the answers to all the great mysteries of the universe. It doesn’t. Why doesn’t it? That would make this a whole thing a lot easier.
I’ve gotten way too lost in my fantasies the last two days, but is that really my fault? I mean, why does the man’s jeans have to mold to his thighs the way they do? Why does his shirt have to stretch across his chest like it’s just waiting for a song to be written about it?
It’s not fucking fair I tell you.
“Cove,” there’s a bite to Langston’s voice that has me wincing and looking up at him. “That’s the third time I’ve called your name,” he admonishes me.
I nibble on my bottom lip and look away, forcing my voice to be casual instead of going high pitched to a place where only dogs would hear it. “Sorry,” I mumble, “I was looking at the chorus again.”
He eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t press me. Thank fucking goodness because I was not even remotely thinking about the chorus of the song we’ve been working on since we came down to the studio yesterday.
Honestly, after the attitude he threw my way the moment we were left alone out here in the middle of nowhere, I wasn’t sure we really would be able to work together. I was shocked as hell when we walked into the studio and Langston grabbed a guitar before sitting down to start to play a melody.
My mind instantly started whirling with ideas, the music speaking to the depths of my soul, but that didn’t stop surprise from showing all over my face. Langston looked up at me and smirked. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss the man or smack him.
“What?” He shrugged on shoulder like the way he played a melody from the depths of him wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve had this in my head while I was going through treatment.” There was a vulnerability in his eyes that made my chest ache, but he cut his eyes away from my gaze. “I wasn’t sure if it was anything.”
I sat down and started rummaging through my bag before letting it drop to the ground with a thump after pulling out a notebook and my favorite pen. “It’s good,” I assured him.
When he looked back at me, I could see something like joy in the depths of his dark green eyes, but there was something else there as well—fear. It made me want to cup his face in my hands and soothe his worries. I held myself in check, his brutish behavior too fresh for me to take that leap.
“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever pick a guitar up again,” he whispered the words and I nodded, the back of my eyes pricking with the threat of tears.
“I can’t imagine what I would do without music,” I gave him a little of myself, feeling like he had earned it and needed to hear it.
