Page 31 of Rock Strong
“Yes. Come on, Miss Chan, serenade me with Serenade.” He smiled, pulled another chair from the corner of the empty bedroom, and whirled it around, straddling it, resting his chin on the backrest. Then he pulled out his phone and held it up to me.
“Are you videoing me?” I asked. I remembered the picture he’d taken of me at the party and wanted to ask him if he’d kept it. If he’d looked at it. But I instinctively knew he had. That he probably thought of me as much as I thought of him.
“Just want to capture your audition, Miss Chan.” He smiled. “Now play.”
“As you wish,” I said, pulling out the cello, the bow, and the rosin. I took a seat in the chair, which wasn’t the perfect height for playing but would do fine. Positioning everything, I tried to hold down the butterflies going mad in my belly. Not because auditioning made me nervous, because it didn’t, but because of the way he watched me, like I was an exotic dancer on a pole for the first time, and he was the virgin-hungry billionaire. I played a quick D-major scale then closed my eyes to bring myself to center.
Listening to the sheets of rain pelting the windowpanes, I let myself be guided by the rhythm of the downpour, listening to the heavy creaks made by a house assaulted by all this humidity, and I used my nervous heart as a metronome.
“What brings you here today, Miss Chan?” Liam asked, employing an official, deeper tone.
“Principal Cello.”
“You want the position?” His voice was sultry, hot honey.
“More than anything,” I replied, moving apart my knees, positioning the cello perfectly in place and thinking for the first time how sexy the movement felt. I rested my bow flat against the G string, poised and ready.
“Show me.”
I launched into the opening notes, lively, allegro, reminiscent of Mozart and slowed it down right when things got intimate in the musical story. I always imagined a lover’s quarrel beginning the piece, and in this part, an adagio middle took over, sad and forlorn. It was haunting, everything I wanted in a good solo piece, one I would’ve enjoyed with some tea and brandy by the fireplace had someone else been playing it.
Halfway through the piece, Liam began humming along, familiar now with the refrains. He shuffled his chair closer to mine, then set it down again. Watching me intently, like bowing strings was the most amazing thing in the world, he hummed the rest of the song. I agreed there was nothing more amazing than breathing life into music, setting it free. I wondered if Jimi Hendrix ever felt that way, like he was only the channel for the music, like the music flowed through him the way electricity moved easily through water.
Even through shut lids, I felt Liam coming closer. It was the scent of his skin, the humidity filtering into the room from outside. I would’ve recognized that scent a mile away. His presence was dizzying, his humming satisfying, as he became part of the performance, part of the song. I gave it everything I had. If this had been the actual audition day, I would’ve gotten the part.
Near the end of the piece, his hands found my knees, resting softly so as not to startle me. Gently, he pushed them apart and leaned in close as I continued to play. When he realized I wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, he gripped the neck of the instrument, cutting the piece off right at one of the sections I was having trouble with anyway, and set it aside.
“No more playing?” I whispered, opening my eyes.
My stomach rose into my chest. Every pore of my skin felt electric and alive. All he needed to do was touch me once more, and I’d be his. There was nothing I wanted more.
He nodded, taking the cello from my hands and gently laying it on its side. In one swift movement, he swiveled his chair back around, so that the backrest was no longer between us, moving his body into the space between my legs. Leaning in, he rested one hand on my thigh as he cupped my face with the other. My breath was sucked from my lungs. I wanted him more than anything right now. He knew it, moving in to steal a kiss. A sweet, delicious play of tongues and lips. A longing request.
“Play me instead,” he whispered.
Chapter 10
Liam
From the moment I felt Abby’s knees widen, cautiously at first, then fluidly when I inched toward her, I knew her guard was up. We kissed in this position for a while, me between her knees, not quite touching her, not pressing against her—that would have been too fast, too soon. But her arms laced around me tightly, and the heat rose off her skin like morning mist burning off in the summer sun.
She smelled like rain, wood, and rosin all rolled into one. Her naturally merlot plump lips tasted delicious. We rocked in a tightly coiled knot, kissing and savoring. Finally, I drew away, holding the sides of her face. I was panting. “Do you want this?” I asked.
“Yes,” she breathed, barely a whisper.
“Tell me how much.”
“Entirely.” Her words sent a wave of heat into my groin.
“I can’t make promises, Abby.” I pressed my forehead against hers.
“I can’t make promises either.”
I stood slowly and held out my hands for her to grasp. “Then come with me.”
Her longing eyes hesitated a moment, peering up at me. She was probably thinking it was now or never. If she was going to stop this speeding train, now was the time. Instead, she slowly slid her hands into mine, and I helped her to her feet, pressing her taut body against me. I adored the way her curves felt against mine—a perfect fit.
I led her out of the empty bedroom and down the hall, headed for the guest room, the only room that still had some furniture in it. My mother had wanted it that way, in case they were ever in the area and needed a place to stay. Though my parents could, at this point, spend the night wherever they liked, in any given hotel, they preferred to stay in my grandparents’ house, basking in their memory, picking up good-luck vibes for a long and happy life together.