“If I’m allowed to tell you what I want and say no, then you are, too. Right?”
“Good point.” I held him closer. “It’s not just that I want your first time to be special, but I also want to take my time with you. I don’t want you to regret doing this with me.”
He turned in my arms, kissing me. “I’ll never regret this.”
We kissed again, slow and sensual.
Finally, after recovering on the couch for a while, I asked Rowdy to play something for me.
“Show me what you’re working on now,” I said.
“It’s not perfect,” he warned, grabbing the guitar and sitting cross-legged on the couch.
“I don’t care about perfect.”
I didn’t recognize what he was playing, but even if it was imperfect, I enjoyed it. After fiddling for a few minutes, starting and stopping, repeating the trickier runs, Rowdy seemed to find the direction of it. He started from the beginning and played the full melody. It was interesting to watch him switch from practicing to performing. He now held the guitar like a lover instead of a friend and he started humming along, as though he heard lyrics I couldn’t.
I was swamped with an emotion I hadn’t yet named and didn’t fully know the depth of. The only thing I knew for sure was that Rowdy was everything I never knew I always needed.
When he played the last few haunting notes, I asked, “Who wrote that song? Who sings it? It’s gorgeous.”
The way he glanced at me, then quickly returned his focus to the guitar, was my answer.
“You wrote that, didn’t you?”
He shifted, the tension he’d so carefully tucked away returning full force.
“Yeah,” he finally admitted, as if under duress. “I’m shit with words, though. I have some ideas, but I’ve been thinking I might ask Woody to help me with the lyrics. Though I doubt he’d have time to help me out with something like this.”
I was instantly irritated. “Nope. Don’t fucking dismiss what you just did.” His eyes widened, so I touched my heart and said, “That piece you just played is hypnotizing, and the notesyou were humming harmonized beautifully. I might not know Woody as well as you do, but there’s no way he wouldn’t jump at the chance to put lyrics to that melody.”
“Really? You thought the song—just the instrumental—was good?”
“I want to rip that guitar from your body, strip you naked, and lick you from head to toe. Do with that information what you will.”
I was really starting to love this man’s flush. He took the guitar off, carefully set it on the floor, then walked over to me and cozied into my lap. “You were saying?”
I cracked up. “Okay, okay, young one. I don’t have anything left in the tank, but?—”
“Me either,” he said, kissing me. “I’m just fucking with you. I just want to sleep with you in that gigantic bed of yours.”
“I can arrange for that. What are your thoughts on a quick dip? I’ve been swimming a little before bed and it really helps me sleep.”
“I love swimming, but...I didn’t bring anything to swim in.”
“What makes you think I wear anything in my own goddamn pool?”
He pressed his face against my neck. “I’ve actually never been skinny-dipping before.”
“Then you are in for a treat.”
We held each other for a few minutes more, then untangled and stood up from the couch. He accepted my extended hand, and I led him to my bedroom. We had been in here before—it’s where I first kissed him. This night, however, differed from that night in every way possible. Then, I was looking to see what Rowdy’s reputation was all about. Tonight...tonight, I only wanted him to share his heart.
Rowdy stopped in front of the foot of my bed and looked out over the pool, the watery reflection giving his face an otherworldly appeal. “This is gorgeous.”
“It’s got nothing on you.” When he looked at me, uncertainty stressing his expression, I cupped his face with both hands. “I mean what I say, sweet man. I love this home that I’ve built, but it’s basic and uninspired without you in it.”
I kissed him before he could protest my words; I couldn’t listen to him deny what I knew to be true. I could kiss him until the earth changed poles, but for tonight I wanted to swim naked with him.
