Oh Lord. His authoritative voice, the voice she’d known for five and a half years, somehow made her heart start racing now that she thought of him as that kind of dominant. Pull it together. Don’t be a slut. Or sexually curious, or whatever.
Ethan smirked at her from behind his music stand as he and Steve put away their instruments. She closed her rehearsal binder, trying to act nonchalant. What did Jonathan want to talk to her about? Her messed up notes during the Rachmaninoff?
“Hey,” she said, turning to face him. “What’s up?”
“Two things.” He leaned back in his chair, his priceless instrument balanced on his lap. “First, I wanted to update you on Jessa. She’s giving me the silent treatment on social media, and hasn’t lingered outside my apartment all week.”
“That’s awesome.” She felt happy for him, and proud of her part in the charade. “I guess we were convincing.”
“Definitely convincing. I’ll count it as a final victory when she unfollows me everywhere.” He put his violin in its case and looked back at her. “I was thinking we could take some photos for social media to speed up the process. You know, shots of us hugging or playing around post-rehearsal?”
“Yeah!” Ack, that sounded too enthusiastic. “Maybe some selfies?”
“Sure. Bring it in.”
Next she knew, his arm was around her, and he was planting a kiss on her cheek. While she grinned like a maniac, he raised his phone and snapped a photo of them. It was off center. She was afraid she looked wild-eyed. She just felt so overwhelmed to find herself in his arms once more after keeping a careful distance.
“Here, you idiots.” Steve came over and took Jonathan’s phone. “Do it again, and I’ll take the photo.”
Jonathan kissed her a second time, warm and close. Since he was kissing her cheek, her expression was in the picture, and she was sure she looked way too happy about it. It’s for the photo, she told herself. To get Jessa to leave him alone.
“Why don’t you kiss her on the lips?” Steve teased. “Lay one on her like you did at the party?”
“No,” said Jonathan. “I’m not making Ruby-porn for you.”
Ethan laughed, picking up his viola. “You’re all crazy.”
“Here.” Steve gave back Jonathan’s phone and dug out his own, handing it to Ethan. “Take a picture of me kissing Ruby. I can use it to get rid of my stalkers too.”
“You love your stalkers,” Ethan said, but he took the phone. Steve made as if to kiss her, then licked her cheek while she writhed in disgust.
“Ewww.” She nudged him away. “Wipe your spit off me.”
“Okay.” He licked her again. “Like this?”
Jonathan pushed them apart. “Are you a cellist or a savage, Steve? Is there a difference?” He turned his attention back to his phone. “Ruby, I’m posting that photo now, okay? It’s just a kiss on the cheek, so there’s plausible deniability if our friends ask what’s up. But Jessa’s going to hate it.”
“Which is kind of the point.” She looked over his shoulder at the picture. It was a beautiful capture—intense, hot, and kind of edgy, just like Jonathan. She’d log on later and download a copy for herself.
“One more thing,” Jonathan said, as the other guys were leaving the rehearsal suite. He pulled Ruby to the side. His firm touch, his body and closeness, started her imagination rolling again.
“What thing is that?” she asked. Is it the thing between your legs? Because I’ve been thinking about that a lot.
“The Rachmaninoff today.”
Shit, she’d forgotten. She really had fucked it up. She’d meant to put in more practice before the piece came up in the rehearsal schedule, but she’d spent too much time daydreaming about Jonathan and his pervy fetishes over the past week.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” she began.
“You were almost a half-beat behind in some of the passages. You can’t do that. They’re not hard notes.”
She rolled her eyes. “They are hard notes, but I’ll fix it.”
“There are only four of us on that stage. If someone’s fucking up—”
“I know, Jonathan.”
“There are only two violins, two, and our harmonies need to be in perfect accord. Do we need to practice it together?”
“No, I’ll get it.”
He lowered his voice, even as his scolding grew in intensity. “Is this because of last week in L.A.? Because we danced together, kissed a couple times? You think I’ll let you get away with shit playing now?”
She gazed at him, thinking about things like dominance and punishment. “I think that less than ever, Jonathan.”
His regard sharpened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ethan told me about you.” She didn’t know why she blurted that out, but once the words were there, she had to follow them with more words, or Jon would start scolding again. “The two of us were talking about you kissing me, and Ethan told me about your dominant sex thing, but I already knew. If you want the truth, that’s why I was off in rehearsal today, and why I haven’t practiced enough over the past week.”