The Pool Boy (Nashville Neighborhood, #2)

by Nikki Sloane

“Are you worried I won’t be able to handle you?” “No.” He was perfectly serious. “I’m worried I won’t be able to handle you.”

His mouth drifted from mine, planting kisses across my cheekbone, as he moved toward my ear. It made me shiver and melt when he discovered the tender spot on my neck, and then his lust-choked words filled my ear. “Fuck Tinder,” he uttered. “You don’t need it. I’m right here.”

“You’re writing again.” I grinned. “After two years.” She drew in a deep breath. “I had music in my head last night.” Fucking hell. Even though I’d saved and scraped every dollar I’d had in college to afford my guitar, I tossed it carelessly down on the couch now, freeing my hands so I could grab her waist. I made my voice sound as sexy as possible. “I wonder what’s changed?” The question was rhetorical, but I didn’t give her a chance to answer anyway. “It’s okay if you want to say my dick is magic.”

“Is it the song for me?” I asked. Her eyebrows pulled together, creating a crease between them. “I . . . This wasn’t what I was working on this morning.” Interesting. “Another song?” I grinned. “You weren’t hearing music for two years, and all of a sudden, it’s nonstop.” She cocked an eyebrow, unamused. “Are you going to tell me your dick is magic again?” “Do I need to? I think the evidence speaks for itself.”