He shifts a bit stiffly, and that’s when I notice that he’sveryhard beneath me. My cheeks flush fiercely, and so do his. I hadn’t intended for this moment to be purely sexual between us, but my heart flutters over the fact that I’m affecting him. I continue to run my nails over his back, up to his shoulders, down to his waistline, and back again.
Riley swallows, then sighs, looking defeated.
“It’s my hands, my arms,” he starts to explain, his hands mimicking the motions of mine. “I still don’t have the best grip strength, and this adaptive equipment doesn’t help. The grips are loose. And I can’t—” His hand flies to his temple, and he raps his fingers against his skull a little too hard for my liking. “I can’t find the rhythm…in here.”
My sweet Riley. He holds himself to these impossible standards and gives himself no grace when he fails. When I look at him, when I watch him play, all I see is artistry and perfection. Especially when he learns to just let go and have some fun with a beat, rather than be technical about it.
“Can I try something?” I ask, shifting in his lap a little so I can lean back. Riley nods, his brows slightly pinched in confusion, but he listens intently anyway. I flip one of his headphone cuffs upside down so that it’s facing outward and press my body closerto his. I’m careful to keep it away from his injured ear. I can’t help but place a soft, quick kiss to the damaged cartilage. A small claim to show that I love every part of him, still.
I cup the back of his neck with one hand, bring my other around to his chest, and find his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. I turn to look at Creed through the studio window and see him biting down on his fist, while his other hand is hidden between his legs, no doubt hiding his growing erection. It’s obvious his crazy ass is sitting in blissful agony right now. He’s never once shied away from making his affections known.
I give him a crooked smile over my shoulder. “Play the song?”
He leans forward, pressing a button, and his voice fills the room. “Anything my girl wants.”
A moment later, their new song begins to play in the headphones. Leaning down, I press my ear to the exposed cuff and start to listen as the melody starts to build.
Creed’s voice causes chills to break out along my skin, but I refocus my attention on the sound of the chorus.
The melody loops and starts over, but this time, I pull my focus to Riley’s steady heartbeat and feel it mix and intertwine with the music playing in our ears.
I start to tap my fingers against the back of his neck, matching the beautiful rhythm of his every heartbeat. It’s a bit offbeat, but every so often it syncs up. Riley’s breath hitches when he realizes what I’m doing. He catches on, and one of his hands slides up to cup the side of my throat, his first two fingers resting delicately against my pulse point.
His foot starts tapping the pedal of the hi-hat, adding a few extra beats to match the song’s rhythm. He does this for several minutes, creating a unique metronome effect.
“Can you feel the beat, yet?” I ask, my words a low hum in his ear.
His face turns, slightly buried in my neck. “I’m starting to.”
His voice sends a shiver up my spine in the best way.
The first hit against the drum and bass pedal takes me by surprise because my whole body does this little bounce in his lap. I grip his neck a little tighter because just as the chorus hits, Riley starts to play. It’s not as loud as I’m used to hearing, but he’s fully playing.
All I can do is hold on tight as he rides out every line of the song in such a beautiful, unique way. He doesn’t let my presence on his lap stop him from creating the perfect beat to this new song.
I’m speechless. The talent that oozes from Riley is unmatched, and I don’t think it’s biased for me to argue that he’s one of the best drummers in the music industry. What he’s doing right now is nothing short of genius.
It’s a total bonus that I get to be a part of it.
When the bridge hits, I can hardly hang onto him. I don’t think he realizes just how loud he’s playing. How strong his grip is. How perfect each and every hit against the drum set is. Riley’s completely lost in the song, and when I steal a glance at his face from the corner of my eye. The light reflecting in his dark irises has my heart thumping wildly in my chest, and emotion clogging my throat.
Tears are now freely streaming in constant rivulets down my cheeks as he finishes the song. The moment he hits the cymbals that last time, a hiccuping sob pushes past my lips, but it’s instantly smothered by Riley’s lips when he slams them against mine. The drumsticks hit the floor, and his arms pull through the sleeves so he can cup my face as he deepens the kiss.
He’s shaking. Vibrating. I can feel the adrenaline and joy pouring out of him so heavily that it threatens to pull me under in the best way.
“Thank you,” he breathes against my lips, his chest heaving. “Thank you.”
He repeats the phrase, whispering the words to me in between kisses. Both of our faces are wet from crying, but I don’t care. Riley found his passion again, at least for now. He got out of his own head and justplayed.It was perfection. It was raw. Unique.Beautiful.
Riley’s hands are steady as he cups my thighs and lifts to stand. He carries me with ease across the room and out of the studio. Creed’s already waiting for us by the door, and when I look at him, he’s got this wild grin on his face, and his pupils are blown wide.
“That was fucking hot,” He bites his lip and pulls us into his arms, sandwiching me between him and Riley. He peppers both of us with kisses anywhere he can reach. “And I recorded the whole damn thing. It was fucking perfect, Ri.”
Riley flushes at the praise. He shrugs a shoulder like it’s no big deal. “Just took a little snow to find the perfect rhythm.”
My heart swoops in my chest at his words.
God, I love him.
