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“Morning. What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“Nine?” His eyes widened and he shot upright, scrambling to throw the covers off. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
“What’s wrong?”
“I have a meeting at ten!” He leapt out of bed and darted into the bathroom.
Scrubbing my face with one hand, I groaned and forced myself out of bed, trailing after him. “You have an hour. What’s the rush?”
“It’s in Elgin,” he said with his toothbrush dangling out of his mouth. He spit in the sink and whipped the toothbrush onto the counter before hurrying into the shower.
“What’s it for?”
“Interviewing for the symphony orchestra. This is the only time the directors were available.”
I opened the glass door and stuck my head in. “Well, it’s not like you don’t have a fast car or anything.”
“Not funny,” he scowled at me before ducking under the running water.
Shrugging, I went to close the door but his hand shot out, grabbing my shoulder.
“Hey. Wait.”
I turned back, lifting a brow in lieu of asking the question out loud.
He leaned forward and kissed me, inadvertently dripping water onto my chest. I’m sure it was meant to be quick, but I took it a step further. I couldn’t help myself. I had to take advantage of his good mood in case it disappeared again.
Kissing his jaw and working my way down his throat to his shoulder, I pushed him back into the shower. He shook his head as I stepped inside, my hand planted in the center of the chest, walking him backward.
“Sasha, no.”
“No what?” I bit my lower lip, pressing him up against the tile wall.
“You’re going to make me late,” he said with a sigh, despite the fact his dick was already well on its way to hard.
“Not if I drive you,” I replied, running my hands up and down his wet body, creating more suds on his skin from the remnants of his body wash.
“I’d like to get there in one piece.”
“Then stop talking and start kissing.”
He grinned against my lips, wrapping his arms around my neck, and doing just that.
* * *
We wereon our way back from Roan’s interview in the suburbs when Misha texted, telling me to be at Delirium at seven. No explanation. No further instructions. Nothing.
Scowling at the message, I tossed my phone back in the cup holder. “Apparently I have a meeting tonight.”
“Is everything ok?”
“I have no idea.”
I caught sight of a frown before Roan leaned forward and turned up the radio. He laced his fingers through mine and pulled my hand into his lap. His other hand moved with the music, tapping out the beat on the arm rest.
While I appreciated Roan wasn’t hounding me for details this time around, I also wished he would have taken control of the conversation instead of letting the music fill the silence. I wanted the distraction. I wanted him to talk at length about composers and orchestras and whatever new project he was working on. Anything to keep me from dreading the appointed hour with Misha.
