“Did you always want to be a musician?”
“I got my first guitar when I was eight.” He chuckled, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. “A cheap acoustic one. My grandma got it for me with the S&H Green Stamps she had saved. I loved that shitty guitar—still have it.”
She glanced at the guitar propped against the sofa and over to a picture of a teenage Matt with an older woman on the shelf. “So, you did then.”
“Nah.” Matt bit into his pizza with a grin. “I wanted to be a fireman like my uncle.”
Doesn’t every little boy?
But looking at him now, she couldn’t picture it. “Yeah?”
“Uncle Mark was a genuine hero.” He nodded, his brown eyes glossing over again. “He was killed in a fire when I was twelve. Changed my mind after that.”
Gina couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about Matt’s uncle from her brothers, but then why would she? The man must’ve died around the time she was born.
His hand in hers, she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
“My grandmother was pretty torn up.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Anyway, it was a long time ago.”
“How did the band get started?”
“We used to play to songs on the radio in Bo’s basement. God, his poor mom. We were awful.” Laughing at the memory of it, Matt shook his head. “But we got better. By the time high school started, Taylor had joined us. Then, we started writing our own stuff and knew we were on to something—figured we had a shot, at least.”
“And look at you now.” Sipping on her wine, Gina took in the expensively furnished room with gold records and band memorabilia on the walls. “I hear Venery playing on the radio all the time.”
“We sacrificed a lot. Worked our asses off.” He popped the last bite of pizza into his mouth. “Eight years of shitty gigs in sleazy bars, county fairs, and festivals, warming up the crowd for the opening band. Didn’t see our name on theBillboardcharts until we were twenty-six.”
“But the struggles were worth it, right?”
“Yes and no.”
What does that mean?
“See, everything in life’s a trade-off. Anything you gain, something else is lost in return.”
A tiny thread of melted cheese was stuck to the scruff on his face. Gina reached over and wiped it away with her thumb. He seized her hand, and with his fingers sliding into her hair, Matt brushed her lips with his. Gentle, slow, and deliberate, the subtle touch sent a thrilling rush all the way down to her toes.
Effortlessly, his tongue slipped inside, her lips yielding to his kiss. His eyelashes touching her skin, Gina shared his breath while she explored the texture and taste of him. Savory. Delicious. Intoxicating.
And she fell.
Slowly.
Drifting on a cloud, Matt took her to a place where gravity didn’t exist and heavenly music was everywhere.
Her mind numb, he laid her head on his chest. His hand skimmed over the curve of her hip to rub up and down her thigh. The sensation of his kiss lingering, Gina didn’t watch the movie. She closed her eyes, listening to the beat of his heart, inhaling the manly scent of him. Fingertips brushed close to her breast, and she gasped.
“Shh… relax, bunny. I won’t touch you there.”
“What if I want you to?”
Matt brought her face up to his, and intense, dark eyes staring deep into her soul, he lowered those full, perfectly bowed lips to hers. Warm hands caressed her all over. He squeezed her breasts, thumbs sweeping over her nipples, and the nub of flesh between her legs awakened. Its pulsing incessant, her empty pussy ached.
She must’ve forgotten what it felt like to have a man’s hands on her because she heard herself squeak at the contact. Jesus, she was bursting out of her skin. Her limbs trembled. Her stomach turned flips. She couldn’t catch her breath even though she was breathing.
“Your brother’s gonna want my balls on a platter,” he said, pulling her shirt over her head. Then he kissed the skin between the mounds of flesh held captive in peach silk and lace. “But I don’t care.”
“Nick?” She giggled. “Who do you think plotted with Luca to get me here?”
