Love Song(132)

“You’re really selling me on this tour.”

She laughs. “I don’t need to sell it. You’re already saying yes.”

I smirk. “Am I?”

“Well, you’d be a fool to say no.”

She’s called away again then, leaving me reeling from the invitation.

Mollie May wants me to open for her. Am I fucking dreaming? And am I really going to say yes? I’ve spent years mocking her songs like a pretentious jackass, insisting it’s not real music. I’d look like a goddamn hypocrite if I joined her on tour.

But I also just watched her perform without any effects, flash, or gimmicks, and I’m big enough to admit I’m wrong. She is a musician.

And like she said…

I’d be a fool to say no.





Three hours later, the ballroom has mostly emptied out. I expect Mollie May to be whisked off by her bodyguards at any second. I’m already edging toward the door, wondering if the car that deposited me here is also going to deposit me home.

Mollie May notices me trying to leave and shakes her head no. Then she waves her handlers over and says something to them. Within minutes, the staff and hangers-on are ushered out, doors closing behind them.

“Wow,” I tell her when she joins me. “You know how to clear a room.”

“Practice.” She tugs on my hand, pulling me toward the grand piano on the stage. “Come on. Music’s calling,” she teases. I watch as she sinks onto the bench, the silk of her gown pooling around her knees and ankles. “Let’s play something.”

Shrugging, I join her, and we spend the next several minutes messing around with melodies and harmonizing until we find a groove. We sing the duet that my mom wrote for Mollie May and Stylo Lewis, and I’m a bit floored, because we sound like a real duo. Our voices go well together, hers rich with surprising tenderness. Once again, I feel like a piece of shit for thinking she lacked talent.

The last strains of the song echo in the ballroom. Mollie May turns to me, her brown eyes soft.

Then she kisses me.

It’s bold and unexpected. Her mouth moves against mine like she knows exactly what she wants, and I hesitate only for a moment before kissing her back, giving in to the teasing strokes of her tongue.

“Fuck, you’re a good kisser,” she mumbles.

I deepen the kiss and try to drag her closer, but she laughs and then hops up. The ivory keys clang under her thighs as she climbs onto the piano’s glossy black top. She pulls me to my feet and yanks my body toward hers. Her dress rides up as she wraps her legs around me.

“You sure about this?” I murmur against her jaw.

“Wouldn’t have cleared the room if I wasn’t.”

Our mouths collide again, rougher this time. I skim my hands along the curve of her spine, stroking the bare flesh that’s exposed by her backless gown. She responds eagerly, tugging my shirt out of my waistband. But when she reaches between us, she finds me completely soft.

She eases back, panting slightly. Her lipstick is smudged. Pupils blown. “What’s wrong?”

I swallow hard, still gripping her hips. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

Now she frowns.

“I want to want this,” I say with a heavy breath.

“But?”

“But I don’t. Not really.” My hands drop to my sides. “I’m in love with someone else.”

I step away from the piano and scrub my fingers through my hair. What the hell is wrong with me? Blake and I are done, and there’s a beautiful woman sprawled on top of a fucking piano wanting to have sex with me.

But I can’t make my body or my heart cooperate. They’re not even at odds with each other—they’re in perfect harmony that I don’t want to do this. Kissing her felt nice for all of ten seconds before it turned hollow, empty, like trying to light a fire with wet matches.

There’s a long beat before Mollie May lets out a little laugh and wipes the corner of her mouth. “Jesus, you musicians. Always bleeding from somewhere.”

“Sorry,” I say roughly.

“Don’t be.” She slides off the piano, smoothing her dress as if what just happened between us was no big deal. “Honestly, I was mostly curious if the mouth matched the voice.”

My answering laughter is equal parts guilt and relief. “Guess I’m off the tour?” I quip.

“Not a chance.” She flashes an impish smile. “That kind of sexual tension makes for great shows. I’m already envisioning at least one duet. Besides, I’m sleeping with one of the guys in the band, and he’s not in love with someone else.” She steps toward me and fixes the lapel of my shirt. “You’re allowed to bring someone, by the way.”

I blink. “What?”

“My drummer always brings his girlfriend along. It’s not a big deal if you want to invite this girl you’re in love with. As long as they don’t mind living out of a suitcase for six months and don’t get in the way, significant others are welcome.”

“I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

“Yes, you have.” She pats my arm. “Tour starts before Thanksgiving. Boston’s up first. See you there.”

BREAKING NEWS





New couple alert?? Mollie May spotted with MYSTERY MAN at charity event!