Page 70 of Sing For Me

Eva

Iwake up in a dark room. A single beam shines dimly from the kitchen, dancing across the very big, very muscular, very tattooed arm that is currently wrapped around my waist.

“You awake?” Will murmurs in my ear, his hot breath setting off a storm of goosebumps over my skin.

“I’m not sure yet.”

My body moves with the gentle vibration of his soft, rumbling laugh.

“You didn’t have to stay,” I whisper.

His arms tighten. “Wanted to.”

I breathe in the scent of him, his woodsy body wash and something distinct that reminds me of his shop. I should probably be freaking out right now, having him this close to me, his big body pressed against my back, his arms tight around me. But freaked out is the last thing I feel. I’m slightly embarrassed, yes. But the primary emotion surging through me is contentment. This feelsgood.

“How’s your hip?”

I stretch, feeling it out. “Better. Still a little sore.”

“Your doctor mentioned a hot tub?”

“Mmm.” The thought of hot water on my sore and swollen muscles does sound pretty damn good. But that would require getting up. And letting Will go. Which I should probably do—I can’t imagine the guy wants to spend his entire evening stuck playing nurse to a washed-up pop star.

But that’s not what I say. “Will you stay with me?” I whisper.

A big warm hand comes down on my hip, squeezing briefly before beginning to rub slow, soft circles, my skin burning with the heat of his even through the material of my maxi skirt.

“I’d be pretty stupid to turn down a hot tub with a pretty girl.”

I snort into his arm. “I have some extra bathing suits in the spare bedroom.”

Neither of us move. I’m pretty sure Will’s hand on my hip is causing hypnosis. I sigh. “This feels nice too,” I admit.

His lips press against the back of my head. “It does.”

Of course, my stomach chooses that moment to give an almighty grumble and Will chuckles into my hair. “I guess that was our cue.”

He pulls us both into a seated position and it’s all I can do not to groan. I would have been happy to lie there with him all night, food be damned.

“You want to order something?” he asks. “Or I could cook. What do you have in your fridge?”

“Um. I think the kitchen is pretty bare. Marissa usually does the shopping on Thursdays.”

He shakes his head at me. “Such a diva.”

I smack his arm. “I am not. I’ll prove it to you—I can order us a pizza all by myself.”

Will’s lips twitch. “I take it back. You are truly a woman of the people.”

We watch old episodes ofRaiderwhile we wait for the food. Will stretches out on the couch, sitting much closer to me than he usually would, and keeps up a steady stream of criticism about my favorite show. I don’t mind—he’s kind of charming when he’s teasing me. After we scarf down nearly an entire large pizza, I lead him into the guest room to find an extra swim suit and then leave him there to change.

Standing in front of my own drawer of suits, I realize my error. The only one-piece I own is a sleek racing suit I used to wear when rigorous exercise was still something I did. It would cover the scar tissue on the side of my stomach, but the legs are cut way too high.

Why didn’t I think about this before? Will is the last person I want to be in a bathing suit in front of.

There’s a soft knock on my door. “Almost ready?”

I sigh, reaching for the most modest bikini I own—at least this one will cover most of my hip. I’ll just have to wear a t-shirt over it to cover my torso. “Coming.”