I don’t miss the way her tits rise as she sucks in a breath. Thewhiskey has loosened my tongue, and I can’t stop the next words from tumbling out.
“You’d hate it,” I say roughly. “You’d hate me like that. It’s too much.”
I can’t look away from her, not when she’s watching me with those big blue eyes. Even when I know I’m showing more of myself than I want.
“You’d hate how much I’d want from you. How much I’d take.”
Her gaze doesn’t leave mine. “What makes you think I’d hate that?”
I hear my pulse thundering in my ears. I need to pull out of this tailspin. Now. This is not friendship etiquette.
“It’s getting late,” I say, scraping back my chair. “I wanted to turn in early tonight, try to get some real sleep. Night, freckles.”
Description
An image of a piece of lined notebook paper with holes. It features handwritten lyrics in black ink titled ‘You Know’. The lyrics express themes of inadequacy (‘I’m not good enough for you’) and drinking too much. Several words are crossed out and replaced, showing the writing process.
Chapter 16
WYATT
“THIS IS GOOD,” COLE SAYS.
“Yeah?” I bite back a smile, forcing myself to temper my excitement. But Cole usually takes a lot longer to get back to me about shit, so the fact that he called in less than twenty-four hours is promising.
“It’s really fucking good, bro. Come back to Nashville. We need to get you in the studio.”
“No, I’m not ready for that. I don’t want to come back with only one track on deck. I want to be able to send Dodson a few song options. I’m working on another one now.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a long pause, and then Cole chuckles. “So who is she?”
I play dumb. “What do you mean?”
“Who’s the song about?”
“Nobody.”
He laughs even louder now, a deep bellow in my ear. “Bull-fucking-shit, G. That song is about a living, breathing woman. Andshe, my friend, is your muse.”
Shit. That’s what I was scared of.
But deep down, I knew it was true. She’s under my skin. Burrowed deep. This morning, I lay in bed like a lovesick fool remembering all the sarcastic remarks and dumb jokes she made yesterday. Then I jerked off to the memory of her big eyes watching me in the shower. Yet somehow, the obsessive replaying of every word she says is the more embarrassing act.
“It’s the one you’re spending the summer with, isn’t it?” Cole guesses. “The forbidden fruit.”
“Yes,” I admit. “And it’s bad.”
“What are you talking about? It’s phenomenal. You found a muse.”
I don’twantBlake to be my muse. That means spending more time with her. Immersing myself in her. What I need to do is seelessof her.
But she’s everywhere. In the house. On the dock. In my fucking dreams. And she’s not even doing it on purpose. She just exists, and I’m a goner.
“Dude, it’s a problem,” I grit out. The confession eats at me. I hate voicing it. “The lyrics come when I’m with her. They just pour out.”
“Again, how is this a bad thing?”
“Because I want to fuck her.” A groan slips out. “And if my behavior of the last twenty-four hours is any indication, I’m probably gonna do that soon.”
