laughed.
Jessica’s cheeks pinked up.
“Sorry, Jessica. I couldn’t help myself.” Jenna handed her a muffin. “Here. This will help ease the embarrassment.”
Jessica shot a quick glance at Jamie as she took the muffin, then lowered her eyes.
He was surprised she’d share what they’d done with the others, but then again, she could have just said they stayed up talking. If he and Jessica decided to pursue their relationship, he wondered if she’d share the intimate details with them. He pushed away the notion of Bella and the girls knowing about his bedroom escapades.
“On that note, I think I’ll grab a shower. I’ll swing by and get you when Gram’s ready—about ten?”
“Sounds good.” She smiled at him again, bringing back memories of her body pressed against his, which sent a surge of heat rushing to his groin.
Make that a cold shower .
SEEING JAMIE ALL sexy and nearly naked again sent dirty ideas whirling around in Jessica’s head. She went back to her apartment before the girls saw right through her. She’d never had those kinds of thoughts before. I mean, really…who thinks about running their tongue down the center of a man’s abs? Apparently, I do . She had to get a grip before they went to the flea market.
Had she been so entrenched in her career that she’d somehow missed these desires in herself for all these years? Or had she just never met the right man to bring them out? Had these naughty desires always been a part of her? She wasn’t going to find the answer in the next fifteen minutes, so she tried to push the lust away and eyed her cello case leaning against the wall to distract herself.
She had promised herself that she’d go at least a week without playing, but after hearing Vera’s quartet, she craved the vibration of the music as it resonated through the floorboards and vibrated through her body. She gave in to the draw of her cello and removed it from the case. She stroked the neck and scroll as if they were parts of a familiar lover. Oh, how she’d missed them. She’d brought a cello pillow with her, knowing she wouldn’t have access to a cello chair, and now, as she settled it on the wooden chair in the center of the room and positioned herself in the chair, she breathed a little easier. If she were home, she’d play the Amati one of the benefactors of the orchestra had loaned her, but she didn’t dare bring such an expensive cello on vacation.
As she positioned herself in her chair, years of coaching whispered in her ears. Pelvis and lower back forward, chin parallel to the floor, knees out . She grounded her feet flat on the floor and settled the body of the cello against her chest. The familiar lightness of it brought a smile. With her bow in hand, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It felt strange knowing she could play anything she wanted without the pressure of preparing for a concert. The choice was easy. Her fingers moved without direction. The familiar tension of the strings drew her eyes closed as the long glide of the bow brought the sarabande from the Bach’s 6 th suite for cello to life. The piece reminded her of angels singing. When she was alone, without the pressures of the symphony or the whispers of her mother’s scrutiny, there was no place she’d rather be than behind her cello. Her mind drifted to someplace far away, as if carried by the music itself. Her body felt lighter, and all the stresses of the world fell away.
Kind of like kissing Jamie.
When the piece ended, she sat with the cello between her legs for a long time, relishing the feel of it, until she remembered the complexities it brought into her life, and her joy was stolen piece by piece.
Part of her wondered if it was the intense hours or the pressure and scrutiny that bothered her most. She knew it was the scrutiny and pressure to be the best that drove her to practice as hard as she did, and that scrutiny was what kept her nerves strung so tightly twenty-four
Jessica’s cheeks pinked up.
“Sorry, Jessica. I couldn’t help myself.” Jenna handed her a muffin. “Here. This will help ease the embarrassment.”
Jessica shot a quick glance at Jamie as she took the muffin, then lowered her eyes.
He was surprised she’d share what they’d done with the others, but then again, she could have just said they stayed up talking. If he and Jessica decided to pursue their relationship, he wondered if she’d share the intimate details with them. He pushed away the notion of Bella and the girls knowing about his bedroom escapades.
“On that note, I think I’ll grab a shower. I’ll swing by and get you when Gram’s ready—about ten?”
“Sounds good.” She smiled at him again, bringing back memories of her body pressed against his, which sent a surge of heat rushing to his groin.
Make that a cold shower .
SEEING JAMIE ALL sexy and nearly naked again sent dirty ideas whirling around in Jessica’s head. She went back to her apartment before the girls saw right through her. She’d never had those kinds of thoughts before. I mean, really…who thinks about running their tongue down the center of a man’s abs? Apparently, I do . She had to get a grip before they went to the flea market.
Had she been so entrenched in her career that she’d somehow missed these desires in herself for all these years? Or had she just never met the right man to bring them out? Had these naughty desires always been a part of her? She wasn’t going to find the answer in the next fifteen minutes, so she tried to push the lust away and eyed her cello case leaning against the wall to distract herself.
She had promised herself that she’d go at least a week without playing, but after hearing Vera’s quartet, she craved the vibration of the music as it resonated through the floorboards and vibrated through her body. She gave in to the draw of her cello and removed it from the case. She stroked the neck and scroll as if they were parts of a familiar lover. Oh, how she’d missed them. She’d brought a cello pillow with her, knowing she wouldn’t have access to a cello chair, and now, as she settled it on the wooden chair in the center of the room and positioned herself in the chair, she breathed a little easier. If she were home, she’d play the Amati one of the benefactors of the orchestra had loaned her, but she didn’t dare bring such an expensive cello on vacation.
As she positioned herself in her chair, years of coaching whispered in her ears. Pelvis and lower back forward, chin parallel to the floor, knees out . She grounded her feet flat on the floor and settled the body of the cello against her chest. The familiar lightness of it brought a smile. With her bow in hand, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. It felt strange knowing she could play anything she wanted without the pressure of preparing for a concert. The choice was easy. Her fingers moved without direction. The familiar tension of the strings drew her eyes closed as the long glide of the bow brought the sarabande from the Bach’s 6 th suite for cello to life. The piece reminded her of angels singing. When she was alone, without the pressures of the symphony or the whispers of her mother’s scrutiny, there was no place she’d rather be than behind her cello. Her mind drifted to someplace far away, as if carried by the music itself. Her body felt lighter, and all the stresses of the world fell away.
Kind of like kissing Jamie.
When the piece ended, she sat with the cello between her legs for a long time, relishing the feel of it, until she remembered the complexities it brought into her life, and her joy was stolen piece by piece.
Part of her wondered if it was the intense hours or the pressure and scrutiny that bothered her most. She knew it was the scrutiny and pressure to be the best that drove her to practice as hard as she did, and that scrutiny was what kept her nerves strung so tightly twenty-four
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