Chapter Nine #2
“But I don’t know what movies you like.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Matt shifted his weight, and leaning against her, he pressed the remote into her palm. “I’ll like whatever you choose.”
That he could be so charming surprised her. Gina assumed a man in his position, with his looks, wouldn’t even bother trying. Had she misjudged him?
Maybe, but then the wolf charmed Little Red Riding Hood, too, until he tried to eat her.
Sparing Matt the pain of a chick flick, Gina clicked on the first comedy she saw and noticed pages of handwritten sheet music scattered on the far end of the table. “What’s that?”
“Songs for the new album,” he said, like it was no big deal, and then straightened the mess of papers into a neat stack. “I was working on the rhythm parts before you got here.”
“You write them?”
“Taylor and Bo come up with most of the music.” His head tipped to the side and his gaze never leaving her, Matt refilled their glasses with wine. “We all have a hand in it, though.”
She had no idea how a song was written. Was there a process? Gina thought there had to be, but musically, she was inept. What a spectacular thing it must be to pluck notes out of your brain and put them to words.
“Did you always want to be a musician?”
“I got my first guitar when I was eight.” He chuckled, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. “A cheap acoustic one. My grandma got it for me with the S&H Green Stamps she had saved. I loved that shitty guitar—still have it.”
She glanced at the guitar propped against the sofa and over to a picture of a teenage Matt with an older woman on the shelf. “So, you did then.”
“Nah.” Matt bit into his pizza with a grin. “I wanted to be a fireman like my uncle.”
Doesn’t every little boy?
But looking at him now, she couldn’t picture it. “Yeah?”
“Uncle Mark was a genuine hero.” He nodded, his brown eyes glossing over again. “He was killed in a fire when I was twelve. Changed my mind after that.”
Gina couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about Matt’s uncle from her brothers, but then why would she? The man must’ve died around the time she was born.
His hand in hers, she rubbed her thumb across his knuckles. “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
“My grandmother was pretty torn up.” He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them. “Anyway, it was a long time ago.”
“How did the band get started?”
“We used to play to songs on the radio in Bo’s basement.
God, his poor mom. We were awful.” Laughing at the memory of it, Matt shook his head.
“But we got better. By the time high school started, Taylor had joined us. Then, we started writing our own stuff and knew we were on to something—figured we had a shot, at least.”
“And look at you now.” Sipping on her wine, Gina took in the expensively furnished room with gold records and band memorabilia on the walls. “I hear Venery playing on the radio all the time.”
“We sacrificed a lot. Worked our asses off.” He popped the last bite of pizza into his mouth. “Eight years of shitty gigs in sleazy bars, county fairs, and festivals, warming up the crowd for the opening band. Didn’t see our name on the Billboard charts until we were twenty-six.”
“But the struggles were worth it, right?”
“Yes and no.”
What does that mean?
“See, everything in life’s a trade-off. Anything you gain, something else is lost in return.”
A tiny thread of melted cheese was stuck to the scruff on his face.
Gina reached over and wiped it away with her thumb.
He seized her hand, and with his fingers sliding into her hair, Matt brushed her lips with his.
Gentle, slow, and deliberate, the subtle touch sent a thrilling rush all the way down to her toes.
Effortlessly, his tongue slipped inside, her lips yielding to his kiss. His eyelashes touching her skin, Gina shared his breath while she explored the texture and taste of him. Savory. Delicious. Intoxicating.
And she fell.
Slowly.
Drifting on a cloud, Matt took her to a place where gravity didn’t exist and heavenly music was everywhere.
Her mind numb, he laid her head on his chest. His hand skimmed over the curve of her hip to rub up and down her thigh.
The sensation of his kiss lingering, Gina didn’t watch the movie.
She closed her eyes, listening to the beat of his heart, inhaling the manly scent of him.
Fingertips brushed close to her breast, and she gasped.
“Shh… relax, bunny. I won’t touch you there.”
“What if I want you to?”
Matt brought her face up to his, and intense, dark eyes staring deep into her soul, he lowered those full, perfectly bowed lips to hers.
Warm hands caressed her all over. He squeezed her breasts, thumbs sweeping over her nipples, and the nub of flesh between her legs awakened.
Its pulsing incessant, her empty pussy ached.
She must’ve forgotten what it felt like to have a man’s hands on her because she heard herself squeak at the contact. Jesus, she was bursting out of her skin. Her limbs trembled. Her stomach turned flips. She couldn’t catch her breath even though she was breathing.
“Your brother’s gonna want my balls on a platter,” he said, pulling her shirt over her head. Then he kissed the skin between the mounds of flesh held captive in peach silk and lace. “But I don’t care.”
“Nick?” She giggled. “Who do you think plotted with Luca to get me here?”
“No, Tony.” Callused fingers traced along her collar bone and down her chest to free her breasts from their delicate prison. “Fuck me, you’re beautiful.”
She didn’t have time to respond because, in the next breath, her nipple was in his mouth. Astride his lap, her fingers tangled in his long hair, Gina threw her head back, the tugging of his warm, wet tongue a most exquisite sensation. If her clit was pulsing before, it was screaming at her now.
Her body demanded… some kind of release.
It felt strange and wonderful and foreign.
Vinny had never elicited the feelings this man was stirring inside her.
Hell, she’d never been able to do it herself, either.
Not like this. Never like this. Urgent, and so powerful and raw, the will to lose control frightened her.
Gina felt his cock growing hard beneath her. Holding his head to her breast, she instinctively pressed down. God, how she wanted him.
Matt growled, pulling on her nipple, and she whimpered.
“You should run, bunny.”
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“The wolf is a hunter, the rabbit its prey.” And he captured her lip in his teeth. “I will catch you.”
“And what happens then?”
His pupils dilated, eyes burning black with desire.
“I get to keep you.”