Page 64 of Sing Your Secrets

I narrow my eyes at his evasive humor. “To making an album.”

“Reese.”

“Miles.”

His eyes are cautious, mine are blazing.

“All right, just don’t go getting any ideas in your pretty little head,” he says, stroking my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “You don’t even know if your dad wants to work with me.” Cocking his head to the side, he gives me a questioning look. “Are you still going to be into me if I end up just a blue-collar guy, working construction? Or is being a recording artist a dealbreaker kind of situation for you?”

“Stop. I like you,” I reassure him. “Whether you want to be a venue manager, construction worker, hell—go be a refrigerator mechanic if you want. I like you, not what you do. I just think this,” I say pointing to the computer screen, “is a big part of you. I don’t want to see you give up too soon.”

“You’re incredible.” His words are sweet, but he hangs his head and shakes it side to side. “I’ve never been with a woman like you.”

“What am I like?” I smile at him, a little nervous to hear his answer because usually when it comes to men, it has something to do with how I look naked.

“Genuine.”

Oh…that’s a compliment I like.

Miles taps the tip of my nose. “How the hell am I going to keep you all to myself?”

“As long as you keep doing that thing with your tongue I like, you’ve got me all to yourself.” I trail my finger from the hollow of his neck down the center of his muscular pecs, pushing against his white undershirt that matches the one on me.

He laughs. “Can I always expect you to ruin sweet moments with your constant sexual appetite?”

Flattening my expression, I flutter my eyelashes. “Hell yes.”