Page 61 of Knot for Me
“Reagan,” he says, voice gravelly. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
His answering chuckle is gold wrapped dark chocolate, and the sound makes my mouth water. “You didn’t scare me.”
“Liar.”
“What are you doing here?” He loosens his hold a little but only so he can tug me closer.
Heat pools low in my belly, and my clit pulses in need. “I was coming to ask you to be quiet,” I rush out, praying he’ll let me go before my omega perfume gives him the wrong idea.
His mouth brushes against my ear. “Is that all you wanted?”
The bastard. He knows what he’s doing to me, holding me like this and showing me how strong he is. Any omega would respond to it.
“Yes,” I rasp, pulling on my arm. “Let me go.”
He does so suddenly I stumble slightly. “Sit down, I need feedback on this song.”
Narrowing my eyes at the lack of manners, I huff and perch on the edge of his bed. “Since I’m already up thanks to you, I’ll stay.”
“I didn’t know it was that loud.” He smiles and picks up the guitar, turning the chair so he can face me. “I keep getting stuck in the middle.” His eyes skate over my face before he focuses on the instrument and starts to play the song he was working on when I came in.
“She doesn’t like midnight, but not because she misses the light,” he begins to sing softly, the lines of frustration I’ve grown so accustomed to on his face smoothing. The rest of the lyrics are a strange serenade to what sounds like an incredibly complicated woman. Still, the way his voice carries the words, like he’s afraid to drop and break them, makes me a little jealous of whoever the song is about. There’s so much emotion in the song that I miss the part he stumbles over until he starts the verse over.
“Isn’t so bad but doesn’t want to be good,” he sings, frowning and looking at me. “That sounds bad. Help me fix it.”
“Too bad to be good but too good to be bad?” I offer. “I’m the least musically inclined person you’ll ever meet, Lucas. I don’t know if I can help.”
He shakes his head. “No, that might work.” He hums the words first as he plays, then sings out loud. “Too good to be bad but too bad to be good. The woman’s misunderstood.”
I laugh. “That actually sounds okay.”
My heart clenches a little. I desperately want the words to be about me. I relate to them, but I’d be foolish to assume this man wrote an entire song about me after one hook-up.
“Yeah, I think that’ll work.” He turns and picks up a pen, jotting down the lyrics on a sheet of paper. “Let me play it from the beginning.”
Scooting back on the bed, I tuck my feet under my legs and watch him more openly than I ever have before. He’s concentrating so hard on playing and singing that he doesn’t notice me staring, which is probably a good thing. I can’t help it though, he’s too damn handsome and I’m too damn female. He’d make a pretty portrait, if someone were to capture him like this. Not when he’s scowling at me or talking to his friends. Lucas’ true beauty comes out when he forgets about being an alpha and loses himself to music. It’s amazing how complete the transformation is, he almost seems vulnerable.
He finishes the last line and lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Well?”
“It’s lovely. Do you play in a band?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t want to play for an audience. Music is my escape. Somehow the idea of playing for an audience makes it seem more like a task.”
“When you give your art away, it’s no longer yours.” I tip my head to the side. “You didn’t seem to mind playing with me in the room.”
“One or two people is fine, especially if they’re pack. Any more than that I don’t enjoy.”
I nod. “I hope she’s nice to you.”
“Who?” His face lines with confusion.
“The woman the song is about. She sounds like a handful.”
Part of me wants him to say it’s me he’s singing about. Part of me wants him to sing it again and look me in the eyes. Part of me is very, very stupid.
Understanding dawns on him, and he glances away. “She’s trouble, but for some reason, I don’t seem to mind.”
