Inspire (The Muse #1)(45)
Author: Cora Carmack

But I know if I do that, if I open that door, I won’t be able to shut it again.

And it has to stay shut. Music isn’t the way to build a life and support a family. Maybe someday down the road, when Mom and Gwen are settled again, but not now.

So I tell her about my life and my friends without telling her about the music, even as the intricate guitar-playing coming from the corner underscores our conversation. After we talk about me for a while, I turn the tables and say, “How did all your work go yesterday? Did you get it done?”

She fiddles with the straw in her drink as she answers, “Oh, I took care of a pretty big chunk yesterday. Enough that I can take it easy today.”

“So computer stuff, huh? Is that what you think you’ll major in, too? You said you were undecided, right?”

“I did. But no, I don’t plan on majoring in anything like that. It’s just something to bring in money.”

“So then what? You can’t go too much longer without picking a focus, can you? You’re what … a junior? Will you even be able to graduate on time if you don’t pick soon?”

She lifts her cup to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the straw for a long pull. “I might have to go a little longer, yeah. I’ve been thinking about maybe arts management. I don’t really do much in the way of fine arts myself, but I like that world. Arts management would give me an opportunity to be around it still, but with a more business focus.”

“Yeah, Lennox mentioned something about how you fit in with all the artistic people in your group.”

She stiffens a little. “What do you mean?”

“I just noticed that everyone in your friends group is an artist of some sort, and you are the only one who doesn’t fit into that mold. She said you kind of work as a sounding board for all of them. It makes sense now. Arts management sounds right up your alley.”

“I don’t know. Like I said, it’s just something I’ve been thinking about.”

“You should do it. Who knows, maybe we’d even get in some business classes together.”

“That’s right.” She gestures at my office clothes. “You’re the business guy.”

“I don’t know about that, but I do take classes for it. We should look at your options if you go into arts management. It’s not too late to adjust your schedule for next semester. I think it would be cool to have a class together.”

Rather than answering that, she asks, “So the glasses. Do you always wear those to work?”

I reach up, pushing at the frames that I’d forgotten were there. If I’d had time to go home, I would have switched into my contacts.

“Usually,” I answer. “I spend all day looking at a computer or small print on paper, and it irritates my eyes less when I wear them.”

Our food arrives then, and I’d almost forgotten how huge the chicken fried steak is here. It takes up so much of the plate that they bring the sides out in extra little bowls. The conversation slows then in favor of food, and I swear I nearly lose it when she lifts her first bite to her mouth and moans in response.

No longer is the edge between us at the table awkward and nervous. Now, it’s filled with a greedy desire that I’m just barely holding back. It’s incredibly erotic watching the fork slip past her lips, and I’ve never in my life had to fight off an erection just from watching a girl eat. The effort makes me even more quiet as dinner continues, and before I know it, we’re done and she’s declining desert, and it’s time to leave.

We say our goodbyes to Lori, who raises an eyebrow at me on our way out, and I can almost hear her whispering bowling in my ear. That’s why when we’re halfway across the parking lot, I grab hold of Kalli’s wrist and pull her to a stop.

“Wilder?” she asks. “Did you forget something?”

I can still hear the guitar music inside as it filters out through the back door that opens up to a patio that’s closed for the winter months. It’s a slower tune, soft and a little longing.

“Dance with me.”

Kalli blinks a few times. Then laughs.

“What?”

I pull her closer, the gravel shifting beneath her feet, and use a finger to lift her chin. “Dance with me, please.”

“Right here?” she asks, skeptical. But despite her tone, she leans into me, and I slide my free arm around her waist, dragging her tighter against me.

“Why not? We’ve got you, me, and music. We don’t need anything else.”

“We’re outside. It’s December.”

I drop my touch from her jaw to take her hand before leaning close and sliding my cheek against hers. With my mouth near her ear, I promise, “I’ll keep you warm.”

Chapter Nineteen

Kalli

I can feel Wilder’s breath against my lips. More than that, I can see it. The sun has set and the temperature has dropped, and air fogs between us. There’s something about actually seeing it, like our lips are touching, we are touching, despite the distance between. And as we sway from side to side, my heart gradually begins to pick up speed.

The strains of guitar music flowing out from the restaurant are nearly indecipherable over the heavy heartbeat in my ears. But Wilder must hear it. His hands are strong on my body, guiding my movements, and I’m practically clay in his palms.

We dance, eyes on eyes, lips nearly on lips, and there is lightning beneath my skin each time his body brushes against mine in a new way. His touch is firm, but gentle, never pushing or pressuring, though I can tell from the dark look in his eyes that he’s just as affected as I am. The music shifts, building to a crescendo, and he spins us. My chest pushes tight against his, and I bite back a gasp. I don’t know if it’s the cold or him or some combination of both, but the tips of my breasts are painfully tight. Just the pressure of my bra is enough to rub them raw.

I remember the night at his apartment, the way he’d taken his time learning my body. I think of the heat of his mouth on my skin, and the memory alone is enough to make me shiver and clench.

He’s back to being business, grown-up Wilder tonight in his button down and glasses. Only now that I know him, it doesn’t seem like such a stark difference. He is neither the straight-laced man nor the tattooed bad boy. Or perhaps he’s both. Regardless of what he’s wearing, Wilder is caring and loyal and strong and so sexy that I’m having trouble remembering why I shouldn’t push him into the backseat of his SUV and crawl on top of him.

It doesn’t help matters when he leans in to place a feather light kiss on my jaw. He pauses there for long enough that I wonder if the kiss might have just been an accident, but then he shifts a little lower, kissing the spot just below my ear. My fingers tighten on his shoulder, and when he plants his next kiss farther down my neck just above my scarf, it’s no longer light, but hot and wet with just an edge of teeth.