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Maelie
Maelie’s entire body was so at ease she wasn’t sure she’d be able to walk if she needed to. The music was amazing, the scenery was incredible, and something about being in the car with Sebastian Adams made every cell in her body hum.
The comment he’d made about his dad playing this album for him made her see him in a completely new way. Now she was warm with the thought of a young Seb Adams falling in love with Jazz.
He caught her when she stole a glance at his perfect face and awarded her with that grin that had an increasing ability to make her nether regions twinge. In the dark, with the lights of the dashboard lighting up the sharp chiseled angles of his face, he looked even more beautiful. And more vulnerable perhaps.
“Doing okay?” he asked softly.
“Shh,” she told him, putting her finger to her lips and turning on her side so she could face him. She rested her cheek on her hands like a pillow and tried to pretend she hadn’t turned that way just to look at him.
She had a feeling he knew better when his smile deepened. She ignored it.
He gazed at her for a moment and the air between them seemed to vibrate with need. It was a deliciously addictive feeling. “Comfortable?”
She nodded and he looked back out toward the city. She studied his profile for a long time as she listened to Velma Middleton’s voice slink around the notes of “Since I Fell for You.”
He was too handsome, too perfectly sculpted to be real, and for a moment she let herself imagine what it would be like to kiss him on the neck, to trail her tongue across his. It made her heart pound so loudly she worried he might be able to hear it.
“Okay, one more.” He caught her eyes again. Her heart thrummed.
“Better be a good one.” She felt her heart dip slightly at the thought that this moment would come to an end.
He laughed and the sound made her stomach curl in delight. “Only the best for you, Miss Barre.” He scrolled through a playlist on his phone. “This is actually from a different album, but I think this song might remind you of me.”
“We’ll see about that.” She was surprised at the flirtatious edge to her own voice. Where had that come from?
As if he sensed the change in her tone, his eyes flipped back up to hers. He searched her face for a moment for confirmation and the most devilish grin she’d ever had the pleasure to see spread across his face. Desire rolled through her as he drawled, “Well, let’s find out,” before hitting play.
She expected to hear a slow, romantic piece, but instead it was an upbeat rhythm with striding piano and solo trumpet. After the introduction, Louis’s unmistakable voice came through. “I’ll be glad when you’re dead, you rascal you.”
She laughed out loud, and he grinned at her as if he had won some sort of prize.
It was a brilliant song, and she listened, laughing at the lyrics. When it was done, she looked at him and said, “What’s the title of that one, ‘Ballad of Sebastian Adams’?”
He threw his head back with a laugh. “Close enough. Did you like it?”
“Of course, it’s Louis Armstrong,” she explained. “Everyone loves Louis Armstrong. Again, I feel like this was cheating.”
He shrugged. “Well, my job is to educate you, and I won’t let anyone start their education in Jazz without Louis. You have to crawl before you walk.”
“Can’t I just crawl?” She made a face as if she’d tasted something disgusting. “I like early jazz, it’s the newer, head-in-the-stratosphere stuff I can’t stand.”
He gave her a half-grin. “Darling, that’s what I’m trying to change.”
The word “darling” knocked all the wind out of her. All she could do was blink.
He looked as if he wanted to kiss her but suddenly turned his attention out the windshield for several moments. Nodding toward the snow, he said quietly, “I should probably get you home.”
Stifling a disappointed sigh, she sat back up, adjusted her seat, and nodded. “You’re probably right. It’s getting late.”
He watched her face for a moment, looking for something, and she struggled to keep emotion from her eyes. He let out a breath and put the car in reverse. “So, I’m going to need your address finally.”
She rattled off her Bucktown address and he mumbled, “I should have known,” under his breath.
“What, I suppose you live somewhere better?”
“North Shore Avenue, baby, best views in the city.”
“Real reasonable rent too, I imagine,” she intoned, making him laugh as he pulled out into slow-moving traffic.
“Something like that.”
They were quiet for a few minutes as he navigated through the heavily snow-packed streets. The plows had been out, but they were barely making a dent with the new fall. Ten miles per hour was about the top speed in these conditions.
She was almost glad it was slowing them down. This last hour or so in the car with Seb had been the most surprisingly magical experience she’d had in a long time. “So ...” She was suddenly uncomfortable with the silence. “How do you like teaching at Hanson?”
He was quiet for a moment as he chose his words. “It’s all right.” He gave her a shrug. “It’s just not what I imagined for myself. I’m a born performer, so sometimes it feels like I’m not me. Like I’m an imposter when I’m teaching. Does that sound weird?”
“No,” she assured him. “That’s actually pretty normal; every teacher goes through that to some degree.”
“Even so,” he went on. “It’s only temporary. I’ll be back on the road as soon as I can be. I’ve got four months left.” He grinned proudly at her. “I’m a third of the way there.”
Maelie’s heart surprised her by sinking a little bit at the thought of him not being around. She didn’t say anything and saved that emotion to process later. They fell silent for several minutes again.
He drew her attention back by asking, “Is this it?” He pointed toward the corner they were approaching.
“Oh, um, yes,” she said, completely off guard and turned her attention to the street. “Take a right and it’s just another block.”
Her stomach sank. She did not want this moment to end.
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Sebastian
Seb frowned as he rounded the corner; he had felt her energy change again, and he didn’t know why. The few moments she had been flirtatious had been exhilarating, and all he could think about was how to get her back to that.
“Right here.” She pointed at a small four-story brick apartment building that looked as if it had been built in the Victorian era. It suited her.
He pulled up in front of it and put the car in park.
She looked at him. “I suppose I should thank you.”
“I mean, you could say I was a hero, getting you home safely and all,” he answered with a grin.
“I guess.” She caught his eyes in a way that made his stomach pull. “If you take out the revenge and blackmail, it was almost a nice evening.”
He laughed. “Almost?”
She held up her gloved forefinger and thumb to indicate a small amount. “Almost.”
“I’ll take that as a win.”
“You would.”
Jesus, this woman and her mouth. With a shake of his head, he did the only thing he could think to do in response, he slipped one of his hands up across her cheek, tilted her face toward his, and kissed her as he had wanted to since he’d met her.
She gasped in surprise at first but then melted into the moment with a moan that hardened him instantly. He deepened the kiss, drawing his tongue slowly across hers, the friction rolled through him in waves. Jesus, she tasted good. Before long, both of his hands were on her, pulling her closer, savoring every bit of her.
She opened to him, surprising him with an urgency that matched his own. His breath was gone, and when she brushed her gloved fingers against his jaw, he felt dizzy.
He broke away from her, utterly out of breath a few minutes later, and just gazed into her big brown eyes. They were searching his for answers, explanations. But he didn’t have any. Instead he ran his thumb over her kiss-pink lips and said softly, “Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.”
She pressed those lips together and looked as if she was going to say something but thought better of it and shook her head. “You don’t have to.” She moved to unbuckle her belt, effectively breaking the spell they had been in.
“I know.”
She turned to him with an expression he couldn’t quite read. “This was not a date.”
“I know,” he repeated, reaching out to brush a hair from her cheek. “And that was not a kiss.”
She smiled a little, and after a small pause, put out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
He raised a brow, completely taken aback by the request. “You mean, like, forever?”
“No, dummy.”
“Ooookaaay.” He drew the word out slowly and pulled his phone from the charger, unlocked it, and handed it to her.
She hid behind it so he couldn’t see what she was doing, but he heard her phone buzz from somewhere in her purse. He couldn’t help but smile. “Did you just give me your number?”
“Maybe.” She handed it back, her fingers brushed his for an instant, but it lit him up inside out. “But only so you can tell me when you get home safe.”
“Aw, you’re worried about me.” He smiled from ear to ear. He had no idea why that pleased him so much, but there was no denying it. He would have plenty of time to think through that when he got home to his very empty bed.
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Only because it would be on my conscience if you didn’t survive simply because Charlie wouldn’t start.”
“And who is Charlie again, your car?”
She narrowed her eyes.
“You named your car.”
“Clearly,” she pointed out, becoming irritated.
God, he loved working her up, it was like mainlining adrenaline. “I thought girls stopped doing that around age twelve.”
“And I thought boys stopped picking on girls about the same time,” she shot back, making his cock twitch again.
He put his hands up. “Fair enough. Come on, let’s get you home.” Before I fuck you right here in this car, he finished in his head.
Giving him an “I won” look, she pushed open her car door and stepped out into the snowy street.
“Shit,” he mumbled and hurried out after her, he would have liked to have gotten her door.
She tromped through the snow ahead of him, head high, until he froze her in her steps by saying, “Aren’t you forgetting your violin?”
He could see her throw her head back and her fists curl before she turned and stomped back to the car to grab it. He grinned at her as he ran around the car and opened the door for her to take it. “I suppose your violin has a name too.”
She slung the instrument over her shoulder and stared him dead in the eye. “Her name is Betsy, and you would do well to address her as such.”
He laughed. Good God, this woman; everything about her made him crackle with energy. “All right, I’ll walk you and Betsy up to the door, if that is okay with you.”
She looked as if she wanted to tell him no but just shrugged. “Suit yourself,” and marched up to her door as if he weren’t there.
He followed close behind her, shivering in the cold, wanting desperately to put the moves on her that would assure him an invite into her warm apartment. But he knew better; something about her felt addictive, and he needed to avoid that at all costs. Besides, he was supposed to be celibate for another four months.
Fucking Phil.
She turned the key in the entryway door and turned to look at him, her face was a little softer, and he was overcome by the urge to kiss her again. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Even if you did make me listen to jazz.”
He let out a groan, kissed her hard and fast on the mouth one more time, and stalked back to his car. When he turned to open his door, she was still standing there watching him. “Goodnight, Mae.”
He wished he could see her expression, but her voice was full of emotion when she said, “Goodnight, Sebastian.”
He watched as she let herself into the apartment and waited until she was safe before he got into his car. He had forgotten how cold it was for a minute with the warmth of her lips still lingering on his.
Before he pulled back out into the street, he checked his phone and laughed. She had sent herself a text that merely read: JAZZ SUCKS.
He shook his head, this woman was going to be trouble for him, he knew it already.