Page 105 of Knot My Band: Part One
A group of security guards are standing by the door, but they aren’t a part of my usual team.
“Hey, Chase?” I ask.
Chase leans in close to me. “What’s up, little rose?”
“Do you know those guys? Are they part of your normal security? There have been a lot of new guys, so I’m assuming they combined our teams.”
Chase stares at them before shrugging. “To be honest, Oli, I never even introduced myself to our team, so I wouldn’t know.”
I can feel his shame down the bond.
I bump into his shoulder playfully. “It’s okay, Chase. You will be nicer now that I’ve shown you the way.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I will. You’ve made me better in so many ways, little rose.”
The door swings open, and I see his drum set up. I know the rest of us can practice more easily on the bus, but he requires space.
He settles onto his seat, the drum set an extension of his lean, muscled form. I perch on a nearby amp. My gaze is fixed on him as if he’s the only thing in existence because right now, he is.
“Ready to be blown away?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he twirls a drumstick between his fingers.
“Always am around you,” I shoot back, my heart skipping a beat when he winks.
Then he begins, and my world narrows down to the sight before me. Drumsticks become a blur, striking with precision and passion. Chase is in his element, lost to the music, and it’s mesmerizing. The way his hair falls across his forehead, the clench of his jaw, the ripple of muscles beneath his thin shirt—all of it screams intensity, and I’m caught in the pull of his gravity.
Each thud of the bass pedal vibrates through the floor, and I feel it echo within me, a symphony that resonates with my own pulse. Watching him, the rest of the world fades away until there’s only Chase, his drums, and the raw bond between us.
I can feel his love and passion for his drums. This fuels his soul the same way singing does for me.
Getting to see the way his whole soul lights up while he playsmakes me feel so lucky to have this connection with him.
“Like what you see?” Chase teases without missing a beat, his eyes locking with mine, green orbs filled with a challenge.
“Always,” I breathe out, my own smile daring him to keep up the tempo, to impress, to seduce.
And oh, does he ever.
Sweat glistens on Chase’s brow, a testament to the ferocity with which he attacks the drums. The rhythm he unleashes is savage, primal, and every beat sends desire through me.
He’s incredible.
“God, you’re good,” I murmur, the words torn from me as my body reacts to his performance. It’s not just the sound echoing off the walls; it’s him—Chase, the alpha who’s all focus and flexing muscles, his sandy hair clinging to his forehead.
The air buzzes with electricity.
Chase’s drumsticks slow, the rhythm tapering off to a seductive beat that matches the pulse racing through my body. He locks eyes with me, green depths smoldering, and I swear the room’s temperature spikes another ten degrees. That cocky grin of his tugs covers his lips, knowing full well the effect he has on me. Of course, he’s shirtless, completing his look.
“Playing your music does things to me,” Chase growls, his voice rough like gravel.
My gaze drifts to his hands—those skilled, calloused hands that coax beauty from chaos—and my breath hitches.
“Come here,” he beckons, voice low and laced with something that might as well be a physical touch.
My feet carry me towards him, each step weighted with desire and burning anticipation. Chase watches me approach,that intense gaze never wavering, and I can’t suppress the shiver that ripples through me under his scrutiny.
“Good girl,” he murmurs as I draw near enough to feel the heat emanating from his body, the subtle scent of his sweat mixed with caramel popcorn.
Chase’s hand darts to his waistband, and in one fluid motion that’s all raw power and unspoken promises, he frees himself. My breath hitches at the sight, desire pooling low in my belly.
