“Yes,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can without sounding forced. “Of course.”
I lean in to kiss him again, but Griffon pushes himself into a sitting position on the pillows. “I’m no empath, but I can tell you’re lying.”
I can’t meet his eyes, knowing that I’m blowing what is supposed to be one of the most special moments in our lives. “I’m not lying. Everything’s fine. I want to do this, I already told you.”
“I hear you saying it, but I don’t believe you. Cole, if you’re not ready for this, we can wait. It’s no big deal. I want to be with you. Not just have sex with you.”
“I’m totally screwing this up,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed and turning my back to him. “You went to all this trouble, and I’m sitting here second-guessing everything. I want to be with you. All the way. It’s just . . .”
“It’s just that you’re not totally ready,” he finishes for me. “And I didn’t go to all this trouble only to get you into bed.” He reaches out and tilts my head toward him. “Although, don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty much all I think about these days.” His grin eases the guilt, but I know that he’s telling the truth. “I did this so that we could spend an evening alone, have some good food, and let the rest of it happen when it happens.” Griffon pulls me back down onto the bed and I ease myself into the natural curve of his body, my back pressing into his chest as he puts one leg around mine in a comforting knot. For the first time tonight, I relax and enjoy the feeling of his skin next to mine, not worrying about the expectations that might come with it.
We must have dozed off, because when I open my eyes again, the bedside clock says 10:34. It takes a quick second to remember where I am, but Griffon’s easy breathing and his strong arm around my waist brings everything back. I shift carefully in the bed so that I can watch him while he sleeps, the long dark lashes brushing his cheeks and his fingers twitching slightly as he dreams. I reach up and touch one of the tight curls that cover his head. He’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, and I make a quick wish that I can spend many more nights exactly like this. I ease myself into the crook of his arm so that I can feel his heart beating until he stretches and I can tell he’s awake too.
“Hey there,” Griffon says, his voice soft from sleep and a wide grin on his face. He kisses my neck and echoes my thoughts. “I want to wake up like this every day.”
“I was just thinking the very same thing.” I put my head onto his bare chest, amazed at how well we fit together. We stay like that, each of us wrapped up in our own thoughts, until I glance at his clock again and realize another half hour has gone by.
“I should go,” I say, sitting up and rubbing my eyes.
“Why?” Griffon pushes himself up against the headboard. He lifts my hand and kisses the palm, an old-fashioned gesture that somehow works for him. “I’d love it if you’d stay. Plus I’m starving, and we haven’t eaten yet.”
The thought of spending the entire night in his arms is tempting. And I am pretty hungry. “Are you sure? Even without . . . you know.”
Griffon laughs. “Yes. Even without ‘you know.’ I’m going to run downstairs and get the food. You just stay there and look beautiful in my bed for a few more minutes.” He glances back at me. “Is it wrong that I love how that sounds?”
I stretch my arms over my head and arch my back, feeling his eyes on my body, knowing the effect it’s having on him. “I love it too.”
Griffon shakes his head. “You are making it so difficult to leave this room. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
After a few quick texts to Mom, my plans for the night are set with surprisingly little effort. I realize I’m still wearing just my jeans and bra, so I reach onto the floor and grab one of Griffon’s T-shirts, the spicy scent of him surrounding me as I pull it over my head and settle back onto the pillows.
Nine
Olivia runs down the hallway of the studio and smacks right into Herr Steinberg. The top of her blond head barely comes to his shoulder, and I can imagine what’s going through her mind as she tilts back to look up at him, her green eyes wide with fear. As much as I love him, Steinberg scared the crap out of me when I was her age.
“Are you in a race, Ms. Miller?” Herr Steinberg asks, looking straight down at her, his face serious.
Olivia’s voice is brave as she answers, “No, sir. Just thirsty. Miss Nicole said I could go get some juice. Sir.”
“You may continue,” Steinberg says, his eyes stern. “But you will walk in my studio from now on.” I have no idea how he’s keeping a straight face. I have to hide my smile behind the sheet music in my hand.
“Yes, sir,” Olivia says. She looks back down the hallway at me and I nod toward the lounge. She doesn’t need to be told twice and takes off with a walk so fast it makes her whole body wiggle.
I take a deep breath before calling Zander into the practice room. “Ready?” I say to him with a smile plastered on my face. I have no idea whether my plan is going to work or blow up in my face.
He grunts and drags his cello into the room as I shut the soundproof door behind us.
“Wait a second,” I say, as he starts to unlatch his case. “For the first part of the lesson, we’re going to listen, not play.”
Zander pauses and looks at me suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
I pull out my phone. “Well, I know that the cello isn’t exactly your favorite thing.”
Zander gives a snorting laugh in response. “You think?”
I glance up at the window in the practice-room door. “And I also know that your mom is going to keep dragging you here no matter how much either of us complains about it.” I tap the screen on the phone. “So I thought I’d make you a deal. I’ll only teach you to play cool new music instead of the classical stuff you hate if you try not to be such a jerk about it.”
That gets him to break into a tiny smile, and I feel almost rewarded. “Like, what kind of music?”
“Well, lots of musicians are doing amazing things with the cello these days.” I hit Play on the video I’ve loaded. “Like this woman. Her name’s Rebecca Roudman. This is my favorite song she does—it’s a cover called ‘Sweet Child of Mine.’ “
Zander scoots his chair over so that he can see the small screen better. As he tilts his head down near mine, I get that particular little-boy smell of sweat, dirt, and something almost innocent coming off of him. He doesn’t say anything as we watch her destroy the song on her cello, and when it’s done he looks up at me. “What kind of cello was that?”
“An electric cello. Pretty cool, huh?”
He nods quickly. “It was almost like it was singing the words.”
“Exactly. When you can’t sing, the instrument can do it for you.”
“Can you teach me to play stuff like that?”
“Yep. We’ll start out easy and then get to the hard stuff as you get better. Rebecca’s even from San Francisco, so maybe we can all go to one of her shows sometime.”
“That would be cool,” he agrees.
The look on his face almost makes me want to reach out and hug him, but something about Zander tells me he’s not the hugging type. We spend the rest of the lesson watching videos of contemporary cellists, and I teach him a few new notes so we don’t get in trouble for just watching videos the whole time. It’s by far the nicest lesson I’ve ever had with him, and I’m almost sad to see him go when it’s over.
I’m putting my music away when Steinberg’s assistant sticks her head in the doorway. “There’s a guy here for you.” She looks at me with curiosity. “And he’s totally gorgeous.”