I padded to the kitchen and reached for a glass, unsure if Kai was even awake. As I turned the faucet on low, I heard it—the soft hum of his bass. My heart leapt in my chest. I didn’t know what the hell I was so anxious about. But the anticipation of seeing him, just talking to him alone, had revved my pulse to a feverish tempo.
But maybe he didn’t want any company tonight.
I wandered over to his door, unsure of what I’d say or even if I’d knock. Instead, I stood motionless, listening to him play. It was a low and drowsy strum, and I swayed against the wall, my senses dulled. During a longer pause, my knuckles tapped once and then twice against the wood.
I heard the sounds of what could have been his returning his heavy bass to its stand and papers rustling, and then the door slowly creaked open. Kai stood in front of me with his hair hanging loose at his shoulders. He had on those obscenely tight gray skinny jeans from earlier and nothing else.
My gaze followed the line of his neck, across his shoulder, to the muscular bicep propping the door open. I spotted the set of free weights resting beneath the stand of his bass. He’d definitely been working out in the three years since I’d last seen him.
He wasn’t overly muscular like some athletes I’d been with, just lean and fit. My gaze tripped over to his sculpted pecs and landed on his nipples. His pierced nipples—that seemed to harden at my perusal.
Fuck, that was hot. Since when did I think silver hoops dangling from a guy’s nipples were sexy? But on Kai, they worked. Like fruit waiting to be plucked, they hung above the trunk of his sculpted abdomen, while a smattering of fine hairs branched from beneath the button of his pants.
He wasn’t overly muscular like some athletes I’d been with, just lean and fit. My gaze tripped over to his sculpted pecs and landed on his nipples. His pierced nipples—that seemed to harden at my perusal.
Fuck, that was hot. Since when did I think silver hoops dangling from a guy’s nipples were sexy? But on Kai, they worked. Like fruit waiting to be plucked, they hung above the trunk of his sculpted abdomen, while a smattering of fine hairs branched from beneath the button of his pants.
Hot damn.
“What’s up, Rachel?” He swallowed thickly. “Did I wake you?”
“I . . .” I finally met his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep and I heard you were up.”
“Yeah, me neither.” He moved aside to allow me to pass into the room. “I was trying to be
quiet.”
“Actually, most of the time your music lulls me to sleep.”
“Yeah?” he said in a low and gruff voice. “Is that why you’re here—so I can put you to
sleep?”
“No, you ass.” I grinned. “Well, maybe.”
When his eyes turned dark, I mumbled, “Just kidding.”
;-)
;-)
