Rock Wedding (Rock Kiss #4) - Nalini Singh Page 0,63
experienced, the soaring highs making her feel as if she were flying while the somber notes brought tears to her eyes. She was on her feet with the rest of the audience come the end of the concert, clapping enthusiastically and calling for an encore.
They got one.
“That was so wonderful,” she whispered in the aftermath.
Abe, his hand firmly clamped around hers as they stood to exit the concert hall, passed her his program to hold. “Not their best performance, but damn good.”
“Not their best?” Sarah’s mouth fell open. “How much better can they get?”
“You’ll have to keep being my plus one if you want to find out.” He maneuvered them through the crowd milling around in the large atrium outside the performance chamber.
Sarah didn’t consciously realize he was still holding her hand until they were in the elevator to the parking garage, and then she didn’t want him to let go. Just like she hadn’t been able to stop herself from saying yes when he asked her out. Fear licked over her heart, quelling the breathless joy she’d found in the music.
Abe had hurt her so much.
“You want to stop for a snack?” Abe asked after they were in the SUV.
And the words just spilled out. “Let’s go to bed.” It was only chemistry, nothing more. She’d surrender to it, let it burn out. And see what was left.
CHAPTER 22
ABE WAS FUCKING GLAD HE HADN’T started driving, or he’d have plowed into something right then. “Sarah.”
“You heard what I said.” Tone firm, she stared straight through the windshield, but her breathing gave her away, shallow and a little too fast.
His eyes dipped to her breasts, those magnificent breasts he’d always loved. They seemed to swell in front of his eyes. “Are your breasts already more sensitive?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“A little.” Her response was husky. “It’s just the start.”
Cock rigid, Abe nonetheless wanted to quiz her about her sudden invitation. Don’t be an idiot. It was a ringing slap from the part of him that knew the physical stuff between them had never been just sex… no matter what Sarah might believe.
After driving to her place, he parked inside her garage beside her little red car.
He’d have hauled her into a kiss the instant they walked into the house, but he wasn’t in charge today; this was Sarah’s show. She greeted an excited Flossie and made sure the dog was happy to play outside before she led him to the bedroom, kicked off her heels, then placed her purse neatly on the vanity.
Sarah always had a purse with her, and it always had some cash in it along with a credit card and her phone. He remembered how they’d once gone to a party to celebrate a close friend’s birthday, and in the rush to leave, she’d forgotten her purse at home. She’d remembered halfway to their destination, asked him to go back; he’d tried but it had proved impossible in the traffic.
That was the day he’d realized how badly Sarah needed the security blanket of her purse. She’d been near tears by the time they arrived at the party, had only seemed to breathe again after he gave her his wallet and phone, told her to look after them both. That was one time he hadn’t been an asshole to her. He’d kept her tucked close to his side all night, taken her home as soon as he could without it being an insult to their hosts.
And he’d started to understand that Sarah didn’t just need a little cash at hand—usually all it was was a fifty. She needed a phone too. Where Sarah went, so did her phone and enough cash to get her home. The purses were vehicles for those two things, but they also just made her happy, as beautiful musical instruments made him.
“You still hoarding purses?” Having kicked off his own shoes and socks, he sprawled on the bed with his legs stretched out, body braced on his elbows.
A sheepish look from the only woman who’d ever gotten to the heart of him. “I can’t help myself,” she admitted as she removed the pearl necklace he recognized from their wedding.
She’d been a magnificent bride, statuesque and with an innate sense of presence he didn’t think she’d ever realized about herself. He remembered how she’d glowed—and he remembered what they’d done to each other in bed that night, her body arching under his caressing hand and her arms holding him possessively close.