“Oh.” I’d almost forgotten he has work outside of LA because he’s been here so much. “Did you get the approval for the club?”
The backboard of his bed appears as he shifts onto the mattress. “Not today. I have more urgent matters to attend to first. Mischa’s been causing problems.”
It always seems as if his vendetta trumps what he could create in the future.
“Are you ready to decimate the competition and claim the top spot in Wild Fest’s fan vote tomorrow?”
I stop pacing and sink onto the couch, staring at my computer on the coffee table that contains the set I’ve worked and reworked. I make a face to hide the nerves. “I have a set. But nothing feels right.” I pull up the track I was planning to open with, then click to another and another. I leave the third one running, turning down the volume so it throbs in the background as we continue talking. “I’ve done some research on the crowd. The club sent me some demographics, and…”
He groans, and I trail off.
“My beautiful girlfriend is an exceptional producer who still doesn’t understand what the people want.”
“Which is?”
I frown at my Ableton software, wishing there was an answer that didn’t rely on my own intuition.
“What I already have.”
His voice lowers, and I flick my gaze back to the phone screen. His firm mouth is parted as he shifts back, eyes darkening.
The music pulses in the background like a dark metronome.
Awareness heats my blood, has my body taking notice.
“Set your phone down. Somewhere I can watch you.”
A breath trembles out from between my lips. But I do it, glad to not have to make a decision for once today.
When the phone is propped against my computer, I lift a brow. “Anything else?”
His gaze takes me in, my pajama shorts and tank top, my messy hair around my shoulders.
“Lose the shirt.”
I hesitate a beat before stripping it off.
I’m half a dozen feet from the window but on a high floor. It’s unlikely anyone can see in, but I feel exposed anyway.
I’ve been naked in front of Harrison plenty of times, but this feels different. When his breath goes shallow, his gaze lingering on my lips, my shoulders, the curve of my breasts, the hard points of my nipples, I shiver.
“You’re stunning, Raegan. If you knew half of what you did to me...”
A wave of light-headedness washes over me at the desire in his voice.
“Touch yourself. Let me see it.”
My heart thuds in my chest, skipping at his request. It’s a challenge, but more than that, it’s a plea.
When I skim a hand up my stomach, over my breast, he exhales tightly.
I like that I have this much power over him.
That high urges me on. I pinch my nipple and squeeze the mound of flesh surrounding it, rewarded once by the sensations flooding through me and again by Harrison’s groan.
“Fuck. You do this to them too, you know. You can’t see it from the stage, but they want how you make them feel. More than that, they want who you are.”
They want Little Queen, I correct in my mind. But it’s hard to think with what we’re doing. What I’m doing.