Page 51 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
His free hand slips between my thighs, parting them with a sure palm. A teasing fingertip drags across my entrance; a jolt shoots through my core. He eases the finger inside—slow, exploratory—then curves deeper, finding the exact spot that makes me gasp. His nose brushes mine, tender and steadying, as he adds a secondfinger. An exquisite ache blooms as I stretch then tighten around him.
The other hand drifts to my clit, where nerves clash like cymbals. One hand drives a measured pulse inside me; the other sketches coaxing spirals until pleasure layers, syncopates, swells.
Warm honey seems to ooze through my limbs, pooling in the curl of my toes. I’m powerless against the rising tide; waves of sensation crest and break.
My breath comes in short, panting bursts. His mouth claims mine, hungry, as though he’s breathing pleasure straight into my centre. I cling to him, taking everything he’ll give until release rips through me, my cry swallowed by his kiss.
He slips his hand free, and I sag boneless in his arms. One palm curves around my breast, comforting heat against my cooling skin. His erection presses into my spine—his need obvious—yet he still reins himself in.
“You want me,” I murmur.
“Yes,” he answers, drawing a blanket over us. “But I want to wait. I want to earn it.” He shifts behind me. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding arrogant.”
“Try me,” I say. “When I look at you, arrogance isn’t what I see, Teddy.”
He swallows, twirling a strand of my hair around his finger.
“I’ve never really had to wait for anything—gigs, girls, the hype. It all just…landed. And because it was so easy, none of it ever felt real.”
“With the girls—” he swallows again, Adam’s apple bobbing “—I didn’t feel real to them either. A bit of fun, a good time, maybe a shiny gift or two. Surface-level.”
I breathe in. “And with me?”
“With you…” He lifts my hand, presses his lips to my knuckles. “I want to be the man who waits, if that’s what it takes to matter to you. To berealto you.”
I fold into him, the blanket cocooning everything. Teddy here in my room, warm bare skin against my back, his arms containing the thump of our hearts—it should feel like triumph. I told myself I wanted the neat win: a fling. Holding it now, it tastes like the wrong prize—because he wants more. And the worst part? I think I might too.
He’s waiting for me. Waiting—for the first time in his life—and that puts the weight on me. What if I can’t give back what he’s brave enough to offer? Then I’m just another girl using him. The thought strikes harder than one of his drumsticks.
He presses a gentle kiss against my hair. “Better go. Big day tomorrow. Second song to prepare.” He swings his legs clear and stands. “Oldies to win over with our performance.”
A grin flickers and he scoops up his T-shirt and tugs it over the riot of bronze curls.
“We’re still riding out first thing?” He’s leaving, and already I need to know the next time he’s mine.
“Yeah, for sure. Make the most of it. Now Bodie’s given up trying to toss me off every chance.”
He leans in with one final languid kiss, and he’s gone. The door clicks shut. Silence stretches, broken only by the gentle hiss of the gas fire. I lie back, my eyes tracking the tangle of vines and flowers across the plasterwork ceiling, my thoughts in knots.
Teddy may not realise he already holds more of me than I meant to give. This was supposed to be easy—a no-strings rebound, a quick scrub of myex from my system.
Except now Teddy’s fingerprints are pressed into the places where strings take hold. Sex wasn’t the victory; it was that he saw the unedited me and I didn’t flinch. He sees me—properly—and I still feel safe. That’s the dangerous bit I hadn’t planned for. I meant this to be simple.
It isn’t.
How do I keep my feelings in their carefully constructed box and keep Teddy Hargrove out of it?
Chapter 17
“Stayon.Takeourslot—seriously.” Teddy flicks a hand toward the rehearsal room door.
“You’re sure, mate?” Ollie frowns. Sam’s shoulders sag, the relief almost audible. Looks like their session didn’t go great.
“Yeah. Just came to grab this.” Teddy snatches up a tambourine from the corner and presses it into my hand. It jangles awkwardly as I fumble, then catch it.
“Acapella with a tambourine?” Ollie raises a brow. “What song are you doing, man?”
“Nah, tambourine and piano. There’s one in the ballroom.” Teddy shrugs. “And a song you haven’t heard yet.”
