Page 17 of Erik

My throat gets parched as I skim through the page. I chew the inside of my mouth and blink several times to regain control over the emotions assaulting me.

“It’s a powerful song,” I whisper, avoiding his eyes. I’ve got a pretty good idea who his muse might be.

I slide the zipper open, pull the guitar out of its case, and sling the strap over my shoulder. Guess I’m staying after all.

“It’s calledWash My Sinsstill a work in progress.” He pauses, then opens his mouth a couple of times without articulating his thoughts.

Alright. We’re not discussing the elephant in the room. Fine by me.

Choosing the end closest to his desk, I drop back on the sofa. I purse my lips, cutting my stare to the musical sheet. It takes me a while to get my left fingers on the proper frets. Erik looms between me and the desk, watching. I don’t seek his help, though. I must do this on my own. That’s the whole purpose of an exercise like this.

Inhaling until my lungs expand to full capacity, I exhale slowly as I strum the notes he’s created. I don’t get them right in the first few tries. Erik plops his fine ass on the cushion beside me without a word.

When I finally sound the right chords, I add the lyrics to the haunting melody he’s composed.

I used to roam the streets all night

Looking for trouble, hiding from the light

Believing in nothing except my next high

Until the moment I found mercy

A redheaded angel came for me

Her heart of gold offering the key

My fingertips skid down the neck of the guitar out of tune. I slap the sound hole, stop playing, and hang my head down. “Argh.”

Erik snakes his right arm around my waist. His left fingers cover my own, repositioning them on the guitar. As he explains the right sequence of movements to execute the composition, all I want to do is lean against his chest. The warmth radiating from his corded biceps wraps around me like a fragrant garden in spring. I shut my eyes for a beat and inhale his intoxicating aroma. The woodsy scent connects to dark sides of my psyche I’ve never dreamed existed. It ignites a fire low in my core, spreading through my limbs faster than a blast.

My eyes pop open when his fingers close around the base of my throat, gliding up to frame my chin. He moves my head until his eyes bore into mine. I forget to breath when he leans down, drawing his lips ever closer to mine.

When he stops a hairsbreadth away, I hook my hand behind his nape, at the same time I jut my chin up. I fist my hand on his raven curls as our teeth clink. His tongue slides against mine and I moan inside his mouth.

He splays his other hand on my belly, under the thin fabric of my silk top. As we devour each other’s kisses, I scrape his scalp with my nails. He slips his hand inside my bra, tugging at the nipple.

I hiss and he sucks at my lower lip before trailing a scorching line along my jaw.

He whispers into my ear, “Did it hurt?”

Unable to find my voice, I shake my head.

He chuckles against the side of my neck. “Good.”

He rolls the now hard nub between his fingers. When I moan, he tugs at it, hard, this time. A flash of ecstasy travels from that point to my sex.

I gasp, arching my back. “God!”

He covers my mouth again, drinking my groans. I lose control of my body as he takes me through a forbidden path when both his hands knead my breasts, his fingers tweaking my flesh.

As his sinful desires spark dark responses in me, pleasure coils deep inside me, while dread rears its ugly head. Tempting as it is to succumb to Erik’s expert caresses, I hesitate, straddling pain and pleasure. The tenuous line between these extremes poses a threat to my mental health I’m not ready to face.

Although the bulge in his pants poke at my lower back, he stops kissing me when my body grows tense against his. “Too soon?”

I can go with that. I nod, leaning forward to put what little distance I can between us.

He unfolds from the couch, runs his fingers through his hair, pacing the length of his desk.

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