Brazen and Breathless (Untouchable #6) - Heather Long Page 0,30
and more to do with real disappointment. So, no, we’d do this his way.
Believing in him meant I had to believe in his faith in me, even if I didn’t quite share it. Yes, the thought was convoluted, but it made perfect sense to me.
He set aside his guitar, then took mine, and when he set my hand on his chest, I grinned wider. I loved this part, using his heartbeat for a metronome, and he could tap his fingers against my hand lightly when he wanted me to go up a note.
“Remember the scales we’ve been doing?”
I nodded and exhaled.
“Start in the first note, then work your way up the arpeggio. We’re going to do major and minor chords. I’ll tell you which ones I want to use for each, okay?”
“Yep.”
He cupped my face. “Thank you.”
I blinked. “For what?”
“You’re not fighting this anymore.”
My lips turned down a fraction, I couldn’t help it. “I’m still worried this is going to mess things up for you.” I held up my free hand before he could scold me. “But I believe you when you say you like how it sounds. So, I’m doing this for you.”
That earned me a gentle, breathtaking kiss, and my heart bumped my ribs as he sucked on my tongue with so much care, it sent a riot through my system and made my eyes sting with tears. “That’s why I’m thanking you, Angel.”
We stared at each other for a long moment, and I worked to get my breathing under control. You couldn’t sing if you couldn’t breathe. That had been lesson number one. For the next twenty minutes, we ran through the scales, singing them together, then climbing each arpeggio until he decided on which ones he wanted me in, and which one he would sing.
Every time our voices meshed though, I had to admit I got a thrill. It was like his sexy tones drifted right beneath mine and then buoyed it higher. I didn’t think I could feel it more if he were lifting me up physically to extend my note above his.
Finally, we were back to the guitars, and we ran through it. The first couple of times we stumbled—more me than him—though he did stop us once and make an adjustment. On the third run through, we sang it clean, and I swore I wanted to cry.
The song had seemed full of fun and verve, but every time he had me go higher, while he dipped into a minor key, it added this haunting element. Like we had all this joy, but life constantly threatened to steal it away from us. Maybe it was the journey, the song seemed to have so many different layers of meaning.
But as the last note trembled in the air, we stared at each other and I wanted to cry all over again.
We sounded perfect.
How the hell was that me singing?
Cupping my chin, he gave me another nibbling kiss, then murmured, “We’re going to record it now, promise not to freak out on me?”
“Promise to spank me if I do?”
He narrowed his eyes. “I’ve created a monster.”
I burst out laughing. “Maybe.”
“Hmm.”
But he didn’t look remotely displeased at the notion.
While he got the recording equipment set up and queued to where he wanted everything, I stretched my legs. I’d ditched my shoes during our first half hour here. It seemed weird to make myself at home, but since I’d had an orgasm not ten minutes after we got in here, I figured it was fine for me to just be in my socks.
Ian motioned to the water in his bag, and I pulled out a couple of water bottles. “Hydrate,” he teased.
“I hope so,” I told him over my shoulder in what I hoped was at least a bit sexy and teasing. If the way his gaze stroked over me was any indication, it was close enough. Still, I kept eyeing that piano bench and tried to figure out exactly how he planned to tie me to it.
Fifteen minutes later, we were on another attempt to record the song, following a couple of minor tweaks. I thought we sounded amazing and that was saying something, but Ian pushed for more.
I fully intended to give him whatever he wanted, so I followed his directions. This time though, there was just a moment when everything seemed to click and to flow. I forgot that I was playing any of the chords, even as my fingers hit them at exactly the right