Page 108 of Deeper

Even further, he sat and explained to me how each button on the mixing desk worked, how to stop and go, how to record while the person in the booth was singing. He was my professor and he taught me all that he knew about the very thing he loved most. The knowledge on his tongue was never-ending and when I got lost, he’d smile giddily and begin to break it down further. I watched with wonder as he spoke, and I took it all in for more than the surface, but for the fact that Zander was happy, full of zeal, ready to work and really do this.

“You should hop in the booth and try singing,” Zander suggested as he sat back in his chair and faced me.

“Uh, can’t sing,” I said.

He threaded his fingers together. “So? Just give it a go. It’s you and me here.”

Because he wanted me to, I got up and walked over to the door that led into the booth and went inside.

On the wall in the walkway, written in big black script, were the wordsLet Your Soul Unwind. There was no room for inhibitions. You were to leave them at the door and just become completely undone once you stepped up to the microphone.

The light in the booth was bright and fluorescent with a pinkish tint. It rained down on me as I approached the mic hanging from the ceiling.

Back in the control room, Zander looked serious at the desk, waiting on me to do something.

I grabbed the headset and put it on, feeling silly. I couldn’t sing. I knew my limits and capabilities quite well.

Zander leaned forward and pressed a button enabling the talkback system. “Don’t be shy.” His voice was in my ears through the headphones and I loved the sound and intimacy.

But I couldn’t sing.

Butterflies filled my belly as I focused on the black filter and chrome microphone behind it in front of me. It was only Zander and me, but I didn’t want to sound terrible.

Zander pressed the button again. “Want me to come in there andmakeyou sing?”

Feeling playful, I said into the mic, “Yeah, I’d like to see you try.”

Zander arched a brow before pushing back from the desk, standing to his feet, and disappearing on the left. Soon, he was coming into the booth and making his way over to me. Each step he took landed with a thud of his presence. Intimidation seeped into the air and I felt even more inadequate with arealvocalist in front of me. I removed the headset and set it to the side.

Zander smirked as he came to a stop. “Sing.”

I opened my mouth, but quickly shut it.

He breathed through his nose and came closer.

I felt him behind me, sending the hairs on my neck standing at attention. The smell of his cologne enveloped my senses and I closed my eyes, wanting, wishing for him to take me into his arms.

Zander was in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin. “Bi, the sounds you make when I’m makin’ love to you, it feels like I’m hearin’ angels sing. You’re my favorite song.”

My knees about buckled at the tone of his voice and his nearness. Zander Khalil invented sex appeal.

He pressed a gentle, torturous kiss behind my ear, onto my neck, on my shoulder, and I let out a squeak.

His hand snaked around me and pressed low on my stomach. “Sing from here.”

Somehow, he’d seduced me into doing it.

Sneaky bastard.

Zander came around me and folded his arms and waited patiently.

I approached the mic with a carefree attitude and started singing the lyrics to “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”

In front of me, Zander looked the least bit satisfied.

“No, no, no.” Zander stood back and shook his head. “Your timing is all off.”

“My timing?” I questioned.

---