Page 10 of Hard Rock Muse
“Fine. Ears.”
“Apple.”
“Red.”
“Cell phone.”
“Annoying.”
“Lamp.”
“Bright.”
Once we’d done enough of the easy ones, I moved on to the more important words.
“Joke,” I said.
“Laughter,” he replied.
“Tears.”
“Sadness.”
“Frown.”
“Upset.”
“Harmonica.”
“Fun.”
“Piano.”
“Life.”
“Music.”
“Freedom.”
I stopped. Julian slowly peeled his eyes open. The look on his face was one of confusion, almost puzzled.
“Is that what the song is about?” I asked softly. “Life? Freedom?”
“Maybe…?” he said, with a question in his tone, as if even he weren’t quite sure.
“That’s a start,” I said.
Somehow during the game, Julian and I had drifted closer. Our thighs were nearly pressed together, our bodies close. I could smell that tantalizing scent drifting from him again, masculine and spicy-sweet. It was intoxicating.
I turned my face to him, to tell him we should continue, or maybe to ask to him to move closer.
Julian’s head was also turned to me, his face close to mine. My breath hitched as his gaze fell to my lips. I wet them unconsciously. His pupils dilated wide. A heated spark hit my gut.
The expression on his face was still unreadable, but this close up, his eyes said so much more. They were deep and dark with an almost wistful note to them.
A simmering heat began to rise in my stomach.
I shifted closer, my hand brushing his where it rested on the piano seat.
