Page 21 of Not My Little Drummer Boy
“I’ve been thinking about this.” His whisper fans my skin. “Since the moment I saw you in the lounge last night.”
I drag my hands up his chest, feeling the firm contours beneath his shirt.
“Not just since I leapt all over you like an out-of-control dog on the steps earlier?”
He pulls back slightly, a glimmer of a smile. “That was just confirmation of what I already knew.”
“And what’s that?” My voice sounds breathless, even to my own ears.
“That under your buttoned-up lawyer exterior, you’re a little wild. Dangerous even.” His thumb traces my lower lip. “The kind of dangerous I might not recover from.”
Something flutters in my chest—something that has no business being there during what’s supposed to be a meaningless hookup. I push the feeling away and chase the physical instead, capturing his thumb between my teeth, biting gently.
Teddy’s eyes darken further. “Fuck, Rachel.”
I release his thumb and smile slowly. “That’s the general idea.”
“Is it? I’m not sure about that.”
“I am.”
I’ve flung aside any thoughts of not succumbing to Teddy’s charms. He’s sweet, funny, and kind—and undeniably sexy. The perfect remedy for the misery of the past two months—and for the year before it when I think, in my heart, I knew Pierre and I weren’t the love story I’d told myself.
“Do your worst, drummer boy.”
His answering laugh is husky as he shifts our position, laying me back against the cushions, his weight settling half on top of me. The feel of him pressing against me sends electricity sparking through my veins. His hand slides beneath the hem of my blouse, warm fingers splaying across my ribs.
“Is this okay?” he asks, pausing to check.
The question makes something tender bloom inside me. Pierre never asked—he just took what he wanted. The contrast makes me ache in unexpected ways.
“More than okay,” I whisper, arching up to meet his mouth again.
Our kisses grow more urgent, my fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. I need to feel his skin against mine, to lose myself in pure sensation and forget everything else. He helps me, tugging the last few undone for me without breaking our kiss.
When my palms finally meet the warm expanse of his chest, I sigh in appreciation. For a drummer, he’s surprisingly defined—lean muscle beneath smooth skin dusted with light freckles that match those on his face.
“Your turn,” he murmurs, fingers toying with the bottom of my jersey.
I nod, lifting up slightly to help him as he begins to push the fabric upward. His eyes follow the path of newly revealed skin with such intensity that I can almost feel it like a physical touch.
Just as the jersey reaches my ribs, a sharp knock sounds at the door.
I hear the knob turning. Back and forth as if someone is questioning why it’s locked. It’s followed by another insistent rap.
“Rachel? Teddy?”
Teddy plasters his hand over my mouth, but I can’t help a giggle from escaping.
“Shhh,” he hisses.
“I know you’re in there.” Haley’s too smart and too persistent. She won’t give up.
Teddy’s on his feet, knowing the game’s up. I sit up, trying to smooth my hair into a semblance of order while praying my expensive stay-on-all-day lipstick is living up to its promise and isn’t smeared across my face like a drunken clown. I tug down my jersey, covering where only moments ago a large warm hand was palming my waist. I glance down and see my nipples are on full alert, and fluff my hair forward in the hope it will make them less obvious.
“Why have you got the door locked?”Oh, Haley, you’re just as sweet and innocent as ever.“Scrap that. I’m too scared to ask.”Annnnd… maybe she’s not so innocent.
While I’ve straightened myself up, Teddy’s also managed to button his shirt in record time, although it still hangs loose. He retrieves the key from the back pocket of his jeans and fumbles it into the keyhole. One twist and the door unlocks with a clunk.
