The Duet(56)

“Ah, I feel better already,” he said, before standing and tugging his shirt over his head.

I fell back against the armchair and propped my arms behind my head. “My my my, how the tables have turned,” I joked.

He grinned. “You have three seconds to stand up and strip or this show ends.”

“What?! That’s not fair. I thought you were going to do a little dance for me. I want to see you shimmy. We might be able to work it into our Grammy performance.”

“Three,” he began, his arms crossed and his brow arched.

“Oh c’mon, shake that butt for me.”

“Two,” he continued, adding his fingers into the mix.

“NO!” I said, jumping off the couch and ripping my shirt off over my head. I heard threads splitting, but I’d tear the shirt apart with my teeth if it meant I got to sleep with Jason again.

“One and a half,” he teased as I tried to slide out of my jeans.

“Stop counting! This isn’t fair!” I was literally hopping around on one foot. Fuck you, jeans. How dare you come between me and my orgasm? I fell back onto the floor and wiggled as fast as I could. That’s what I get for wearing skintight jeans. From now on, I’m only wearing mom jeans that go up to my boobs.

Jason helped me rip the jeans from my ankles and then gripped my biceps to lift me off the ground and toss me back onto the bed.

“Whoa, caveman action. I like it,” I teased scooting back until I hit the center of his bed. Per usual, the blankets were crumbled into a mess and half his pillows were tossed to the side. He must be a kicker when he slept… or maybe he slept spread eagle. In the nude. With whipped cream.

He shook his head and stalked toward me.

“Good, good. Now beat your chest like Tarzan,” I added with a wink.

“I think if you’re still making jokes, I’m not doing a good enough job,” he said, dipping his knee onto the bed and crawling over me.

“You’re right. I think this mouth could be put to better use—”

I’ll give the guy credit, with a line like that, I was kind of asking for him to shove his you-know-what in my mouth, but instead, he kissed me. Hard. And he didn’t stop kissing me for the next thirty minutes. I could almost feel my lips bruising. I knew that when I walked out of his room later it would look like I had had an allergic reaction to something I’d eaten because the man had kissed me senseless, but I didn’t care. I just needed more.

His hands explored every curve of my body, adding feather light touches to each sensitive spot: the groove of my knee, down the center of my chest.

I dug my fingers into his thighs as he rolled the condom on, enraptured by the sight.

“I really, really need you inside of me,” I told him as he tossed the empty condom wrapper on the floor behind him.

His gaze found mine, and for a moment, he froze, staring back and forth between my eyes with a clouded expression. But then he blinked, and bent forward, biting the skin in the groove of my neck at the exact moment that he pressed deep inside of me. HELLO HEAVEN, I’VE MISSED YOU.

I heard myself release a throaty moan, like I was literally relaxing every muscle in my body all at once. And then the shudders began and I was completely helpless. I tore at his sheets and he licked and sucked and kissed every patch of my skin he could find.

It was as if the world was apologizing for the months, and months, and months I’d gone with zero sex. As if the HR department of the world had caught their mistake and were scrambling around to fix it.

Well, I tip my hat to you, HR department. You nailed it with Jason Monroe.

…



After what felt like hours, I laid back on Jason’s sheets staring up at his ceiling with a dopey smile on my face. He was humming the melody of the song we’d created and I kept replaying the lyrics we’d come up with the day before in my mind.

When the idea hit me, I sat up in bed, grabbed my bra and panties and slid them on as I walked to the armchair. The lyrics were coming and I wanted to get to my guitar while they were still fresh. I positioned the guitar on my lap and plucked the strings, humming to myself as I worked the words in my mind until they’d formed into complete lines. And when they did, I sang soft and low.



Loving you would be as easy as taking a breath

But to look at you, that’s a dance with death



I’d risk it all,

For you I would

You’d make me fall,

And fall I would



Loving you would be as easy as taking a breath

But to lay with you, that’s a dance with death



“I like that,” Jason said, sitting up in his bed.

I repeated the last verse three more times before the next lines came to me.