settled on the window seat again. Only when his fingers could caress the taut strings of the instrument did he try to speak.
“So you managed lemon meringue tarts this morning. What do you plan to tackle tonight?” Her nighttime experiments meant he got all the sweets he could eat. Maybe tonight would include cinnamon and sugar.
“Not sure,” Sage said on a yawn. Hank studied her in his peripheral vision. Now that the amusement wasn’t propping her up, her long day shone through clearly. When he said so, she shot him a rueful smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll sleep on my baking decisions, let it be a surprise.”
“You mean you plan to torture me by making me wait.”
“Of course.” She headed for the hallway.
“You know, I could probably help you decide,” he called. He could help her with a lot of things, including her nap. Not that she’d get much sleep if he was back there. Better to stay put. And keep his mouth shut. His thighs tightened, preparing to stand, but he forced stillness, forced himself to focus on the guitar in his hand instead of the heat burning in his core, his cock.
“No way!” Sage shouted back to him before closing her door.
That would probably be her answer for anything he offered. Hank ignored the ache of disappointment in his balls and concentrated on the opening riff from Weekend’s latest single.
But even focusing on his music couldn’t drive away the need for Sage, the memory of her in his arms, her soft breasts and sweet mouth and…
A growl escaped, dissatisfaction and a sudden choking realization. For the first time in eight years, he craved more than his music. This music. A faint, unfamiliar rhythm hummed through him, called to him. He closed his eyes, and Sage was there, staring into his soul, her fingers idly stroking his thigh. As those fingers moved higher, his own trailed along the guitar, creating a melody that, though soft, quiet, still burned hotter than anything he’d written before. The sound shook him almost as much as the fantasy that played behind his eyelids. Words echoed in his mind. Desire throbbed through his body. He sank into his creative headspace fully for the first time in weeks, only emerging when his fingers cramped and his eyes were too gritty to blink. What he dragged along with him was a mostly complete new song.
“Well damn.”
He poured himself a glass of water and moved to the table to make notes before the song did a disappearing act. Most of his work took days to perfect, but this one… He needed to let his horny side out more often if this was the result, though he suspected it had less to do with his libido and more to do with the new muse that had suddenly appeared in his life. Sage affected him in ways he didn’t understand, ways he’d never experienced before.
Yes, there’d been plenty of women in his life, but this was something different. Hank drew up the memory of Harley’s face. As much as he’d wanted her, even she hadn’t packed this hard a punch, though the two women were similar. Harley was strong too, full of spunk, just like Sage. She was also happily married now. He wasn’t in love with her anymore, but he would always admire her, and many of those same qualities served to strengthen the feelings buzzing under his skin for Sage. He was beginning to think he had some sort of complex—he was only fascinated by women he couldn’t have. Which was about as fucked up as his libido currently was.
Or fucked over. All he could think about was the fact that Sage was right down the hall, probably undressed, sleeping and vulnerable and sexy as hell, separated from him by nothing but several feet he could easily cross and a damnably thin door…
He smothered a groan. Knight, seeming to sense his turmoil, came up to nudge his leg. Hank sent a sour glance at the hallway as he slid his palm over the silky smoothness of Knight’s ear, then tugged the shepherd’s chin up. “How do you feel about a run, boy?”
Knight’s
“So you managed lemon meringue tarts this morning. What do you plan to tackle tonight?” Her nighttime experiments meant he got all the sweets he could eat. Maybe tonight would include cinnamon and sugar.
“Not sure,” Sage said on a yawn. Hank studied her in his peripheral vision. Now that the amusement wasn’t propping her up, her long day shone through clearly. When he said so, she shot him a rueful smile. “Yeah, I think I’ll sleep on my baking decisions, let it be a surprise.”
“You mean you plan to torture me by making me wait.”
“Of course.” She headed for the hallway.
“You know, I could probably help you decide,” he called. He could help her with a lot of things, including her nap. Not that she’d get much sleep if he was back there. Better to stay put. And keep his mouth shut. His thighs tightened, preparing to stand, but he forced stillness, forced himself to focus on the guitar in his hand instead of the heat burning in his core, his cock.
“No way!” Sage shouted back to him before closing her door.
That would probably be her answer for anything he offered. Hank ignored the ache of disappointment in his balls and concentrated on the opening riff from Weekend’s latest single.
But even focusing on his music couldn’t drive away the need for Sage, the memory of her in his arms, her soft breasts and sweet mouth and…
A growl escaped, dissatisfaction and a sudden choking realization. For the first time in eight years, he craved more than his music. This music. A faint, unfamiliar rhythm hummed through him, called to him. He closed his eyes, and Sage was there, staring into his soul, her fingers idly stroking his thigh. As those fingers moved higher, his own trailed along the guitar, creating a melody that, though soft, quiet, still burned hotter than anything he’d written before. The sound shook him almost as much as the fantasy that played behind his eyelids. Words echoed in his mind. Desire throbbed through his body. He sank into his creative headspace fully for the first time in weeks, only emerging when his fingers cramped and his eyes were too gritty to blink. What he dragged along with him was a mostly complete new song.
“Well damn.”
He poured himself a glass of water and moved to the table to make notes before the song did a disappearing act. Most of his work took days to perfect, but this one… He needed to let his horny side out more often if this was the result, though he suspected it had less to do with his libido and more to do with the new muse that had suddenly appeared in his life. Sage affected him in ways he didn’t understand, ways he’d never experienced before.
Yes, there’d been plenty of women in his life, but this was something different. Hank drew up the memory of Harley’s face. As much as he’d wanted her, even she hadn’t packed this hard a punch, though the two women were similar. Harley was strong too, full of spunk, just like Sage. She was also happily married now. He wasn’t in love with her anymore, but he would always admire her, and many of those same qualities served to strengthen the feelings buzzing under his skin for Sage. He was beginning to think he had some sort of complex—he was only fascinated by women he couldn’t have. Which was about as fucked up as his libido currently was.
Or fucked over. All he could think about was the fact that Sage was right down the hall, probably undressed, sleeping and vulnerable and sexy as hell, separated from him by nothing but several feet he could easily cross and a damnably thin door…
He smothered a groan. Knight, seeming to sense his turmoil, came up to nudge his leg. Hank sent a sour glance at the hallway as he slid his palm over the silky smoothness of Knight’s ear, then tugged the shepherd’s chin up. “How do you feel about a run, boy?”
Knight’s
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