“Friend from home?” Jason asked with his eyebrows perked up.
“He’s an old friend that I’ve been trying to connect with my sister.”
“For a date?”
I snorted. “God no. Just so he could maybe mentor her a little bit, possibly give her a job once she graduates in a few weeks.”
He nodded. “Don’t you think she could figure out a job on her own?”
I glared at him across the table, but he just sat there with his calm mask, sipping away at his sugar-filled coffee.
“Don’t you think you should learn how to drink your coffee black? That sip tasted like I was taking a bite of a candy bar.”
Jason flashed a perfect, white smile. “Never had a cavity in my life.”
I dropped my phone on the table so I could give him a sarcastic round of applause.
That’s how our breakfast went. We teased each other, chatting when we felt like it, staying quiet when we felt like it. We checked our email on our phones and took calls. The only thing we didn’t do was discuss the day before or anything involving our sexcapades. And the weird thing was, I didn’t care.
“The award show is getting close. We only have another week or two here before we head back to LA so we can practice on stage,” Jason said, looking up from his phone. He’d probably received the same threatening email from our record label that I had. On the surface it’d seemed nice and formal, but I could tell they wanted to make sure we knew how serious this duet was.
“Well then, let’s go work,” I said, standing up and grabbing both of our coffee cups. “If you grab my guitar, I’ll top off our coffee and meet you upstairs.”
A few minutes later, I kicked open his bedroom door, careful not to spill any of the hot liquid on my hands as I maneuvered toward the sitting area. My guitar was propped on the armchair, but when I passed by his bed, I recognized a pair of my underwear— a lacy red thong— lying on his pillow.
“Did you go through my stuff?” I asked.
He turned around, glanced at the panties, and then up at me with a devilish smile. “I saw those on the top of some folded clothes and I figured we needed some inspiration to get through the morning writing session.”
I laughed. “So if we get some lyrics down, then what?”
I walked over to hand him his coffee, but before I could step away, he gripped the back of my thigh and slid his hand higher along the seam of my pants. “Then we get to reward ourselves.”
…
Most of what we wrote down that morning was complete shit. Lyrics that could have been written by a five-year-old if such a five-year-old wasn’t even trying very hard. I was concentrating as best as I could, but every time Jason started playing, strumming the strings on his guitar, I became enraptured by his hands. I thought about the calluses on the tips of his fingers, the way they’d felt on my skin, the way they’d dipped into the grooves of my hip.
“Are you concentrating on music or something else?” Jason asked, cutting the song off and eyeing me with suspicion.
“I am—” I paused and looked around his room. “Really admiring what you’ve done with the place. Especially that pile of clothes next to your bed. Very hobo chic.”
Jason laughed and dropped his guitar next to him on the couch.
“I think that’s enough for today, don’t you agree?” he asked, walking around the coffee table and taking my guitar out of my hands.
“Gentle with her,” I chided as he set my guitar next to his. When he spun around his brow was arched in amusement, but I stayed put. I was safe on the armchair. On there, I was just another musician, trying to write a song. But then Jason decided to strip that feeling from me in one easy move.
He propped his hands on the arms of the chair and dipped down to steal a kiss from me. I was caged in against the soft fabric, with his biceps on either side of my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and tugged him closer so that he had to bend his arms to oblige.
If the position were reversed I would have crawled onto his lap, but Jason kept his weight propped up, tantalizing me with the distance. When his tongue slid across my bottom lip, asking for entry, I obliged by reaching down for the button on his pants.
“These look hot. We should take them off,” I said, as my fingers tugged the zipper down.
“How polite of you,” Jason teased, tugging my shirt up the sides of my torso.
“I’m just looking out for you here. Don’t want you to get overheated,” I laughed, letting the pants fall to the ground and then smiling at the pair of black boxer briefs staring up at me. Let’s have a round of applause for that sight, ladies and gentlemen.