His eyes flare in victory.
Stepping around him, I grab the guitar case by the door. The squeak of springs as he lowers his tall frame onto the bed sends my pulse into overdrive. When I turn, I find him sprawled back against my pillows with his arms behind his head and his feet dangling over the edge of the mattress.
A laugh pops from my lips.
“What?” he asks.
“You just look ridiculous on that tiny bed.” I shake my head as I walk toward him, guitar in hand. “I don’t know if there’s space for both of us.”
He shifts over a few inches, creating a small opening beside him. “Plenty,” he whispers, watching me approach.
I lower myself onto the mattress, curling my legs beneath me. My bare thigh is pressed against his hip, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing my sensitive skin every time either of us shifts even a millimeter. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip at the sensation.
“Okay, here goes…”
I adjust the strings and clear my throat lightly. I’m about to start when he says my name.
“Yeah?” I murmur, looking up.
“Do me a favor?”
“What?”
“Don’t hide your eyes from me. The only reason I know what you’re thinking half the time is because they’re so fucking expressive.” His Adam’s apple bobs. “I want to watch them while you sing.”
I suck in a sharp breath. As if this moment wasn’t already intense enough, now he wants eye contact. There’s something shockingly intimate about the idea of singing to him with our gazes locked. I won’t be able to hide from him — not my thoughts or my emotions or my fears.
“Please, Felicity.”
I nod and, before I can chicken out, begin to strum. My voice is a bit thicker than usual, but I push through as those blue-brown irises hold me captive.
“I wasasleep at the wheel for so long
Didn’t know where I was going
But when the road gets tired and your heart needs rest
You dream of a home, not a hotel bed…”
Ryder watchesme with such laser-sharp focus, it’s hard to keep the lyrics straight in my head. His expression is intent as he listens, but he can’t help cracking a wry smile when I sing the verse I wrote for him.
“You wereasleep in a bar when I found you
Burning off a bottle of whiskey
You reached out, grabbed my heart in your fist
I dream you’re mine, not hers instead…”
All the jokinglight fades out of his eyes as I sing my last verse. I’m shaking from the magnitude of this moment, hardly able to find the right strings.
“We wereasleep in a watercolored memory
Staring back at a long road of regret
But that future’s bright when your hand’s in mine
We’re the dream that I never thought I’d get…”