I eased back out and propped myself against the wall in the hall, feeling one part thrilled he’d written a song for me and the other part pissed because he was so damn hardheaded about me.

Why wouldn’t he let me in?

I took a deep breath and walked back in the room.

“Hello, Leo? Are you in here?” I called out nonchalantly, knocking on the wall.

“Hey, come on in,” he said as he put down his guitar and picked up his notes, stuffing them inside a notebook.

“Are you practicing?”

“Nah, just messing around with a song,” he said, unfurling himself from his seat and stretching his long body. He sat back down on the couch with a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

I walked closer, relishing the pounding of my heels against the floor. “New song?”

“Nothing any good,” he said, flicking his eyes at my boots.

“Sounded good to me,” I said, arching my brows at him. “And I think you wrote it about me. Crazy girl with secrets shows up uninvited? Yeah, that’s me.”

He tugged on his ear and looked away, not admitting to anything.

“You’re ignoring me now?”

He smirked. “Kinda hard to do when you’re standing there right in front of me.”

I twisted my lips, recalling an article I’d read. One that reminded me of him. “Little side story here, Leo, but it’s important, so pay attention,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “Most people think of rats as greedy and mean, and maybe they are to a certain extent. But here’s the interesting part: scientists have proven rats are intelligent, socially benevolent creatures who even laugh when you tickle them. Amazing to think about one actually giggling, huh?” I shrugged. “Of course, these are lab rats we’re talking about, not those feral things you see in a dumpster.”

I pointed my finger at him. “But, they’re also stubborn and inflexible, sometimes refusing to run a maze or eat if they don’t get their way.”

He blinked. “Good God, woman, are you comparing me to a rat?”

“It’s better than a donkey, which is the stereotypical choice for a stubborn ass, but anyway, yes, my point is to be so damn smart, you can be stupid when it comes to admitting how you feel. All you do is avoid.”

He shook his head, wearing a bemused expression. “Fuck, I love how you think.”

My heart jumped as I stared at him. He didn’t give a shit about how weird I was. He accepted me.

His eyes skimmed my body. “I like seeing you in boots, Buttercup.”

“It’s the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“I owed you a pair,” he shrugged. “Boots look hot on you.”

I cocked my head, wondering where this was going.

He ran his hands through his hair furiously, and I knew what that meant. He was randy as hell but was gearing up to shove me away.

I wasn’t going to let him do it. Not today.

“I feel sexy as fuck in these boots,” I murmured. “As soon as I slipped them on, I thought about you.”

He got tense and turned to pick his guitar up, pretending like I hadn’t just put it all out there.

I went over to the door, locked it, and went back to stand in front of him, my body vibrating with need.

“Why did you lock the door?” he asked.

I swallowed. “Spread your legs.”

He startled and fumbled as he dropped his guitar on the floor. “Nora?”

“Just shut up and do it, okay. Do this one thing for me.” I clenched my nervous hands. I didn’t know what I was doing here, but my gut was telling me to try . . . one more time.

He shifted uncomfortably on the couch and after a minute, he spread his legs a little. Not enough.

“Don’t be a pussy, Leo,” I said. “I need more.”

He exhaled a deep breath. “What are you doing? You know how you affect me,” he said huskily.

He sat there for a few moments, and I didn’t think he was going to move, but he did. He spread them wide, his black athletic shorts stretching easily, giving him plenty of room to get comfortable. I sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his long muscular legs, opened just for me. His body was tense and tight, his cock hard and peeking out of his shorts. He wanted me. Obviously. That had never been a problem between us.

I dropped my purse to the ground unceremoniously and took the straight chair he’d been sitting in and pulled it to me, easing down and not taking my eyes off him.

He watched me and his hands twitched, like he wanted to grab me. “Nora . . .”

“Do you want me?” I asked, interrupting, needing to hear him say it.

He tossed his head back against the couch and said in a dazed voice, “Always when I look at you, I get hard. Harder than I’ve ever been. All for you.”

“Take your shirt off,” I said, dying to trace his dragon with my eyes.

He shot me a heavy-lidded look, pulled off his tank and leaned back, showing me his washboard abs and defined chest. My mouth dried.

He arched a brow at my perusal. “You’re really into this stripping thing, aren’t you?”

“Take your shorts off and stroke yourself,” I said.

His head jerked up.

“Teach me how you’d want me to do it. I need to know what feels good to you,” I said.

“You don’t know what you’re fucking with, Nora,” he warned softly.

“Show me.”

With burning eyes, he pushed his shorts down and off until I could see all of him. Splayed out, he was mouth-watering, showing me his massive size, his thickness. I licked my lips at the sight and squirmed, feeling the warmth settle in my body and tingle up my spine.

“This what you want to see?” he asked me gruffly, one hand resting at the base as it stood at attention, the other cupping his balls.

I nodded, speechless. I’d been in control at the beginning of this, but now, I was lost.

“Fuck, you light me up,” he said in a low voice as he gripped himself and started pumping himself from top to bottom with a sure grasp. I gasped, fixated by the motion, mesmerized by his hands as he stroked up and down, sometimes ghosting his fingers over the head and lightly twisting. I groaned, unable to hold back.

He flicked his eyes at me. “I think you like to talk dirty, Nora.”

I nodded, thinking of all the times I’d imagined him just like this, hard for me.