Player(39)

“All right. Nick, kick her off.”

Nick plinked out a melody on the piano, and one by one, we joined in. Val came in last, the cherry on the sundae, the tip of the top. And from the first note, the energy in the room rose like a wave. Everyone turned to her like she was the center of the solar system, myself included. I made no attempt to hide my smile, which was smug as fuck.

We took turns soloing, and when it was her turn, she played with unexpected fierceness and unsurprising gusto.

In short, she was phenomenal, just like I’d known she’d be.

When I closed off the song, everyone broke out laughing and praising Val, who blushed again, her face beaming.

“Damn, that was fun,” she said, smiling as she brushed her curly hair back.

Nick shook his head at me. “Where have you been hiding her, Sammy?”

“I only just found her myself,” I answered, my eyes catching hers for the briefest of moments, which was just long enough to have me considering how I could maneuver her out of the room to kiss her.

“If I hadn’t known Chris for a decade, I’d say we should really consider replacing him,” Matt said.

“That’s exactly how she landed her permanent chair on Wicked. Never miss work if your sub is better than you,” I said on a laugh.

Val’s blush flared brighter. “Well, you guys sure know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

I laid a hand on the small of her back and smiled down at her. “I think you’re gonna fit in just fine.”

She mirrored me, and I didn’t miss Ian pinning me with a questioning look. I did, however, ignore him.

For the next hour, we rolled through our favorites and a few new melodies I’d come up with. That was all the time we needed to make sure the show that night would be a hit. With Val on the docket, it was guaranteed.

I was just about to call it when Nick asked, “Are you gonna show her any tricks?”

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Val said.

I frowned. “Sure, you could. It’s easy—I do all the work.”

She gave me a look. “You mean like Chris did the other night at the club? Because there’s no way—”

“Val,” I started, and she clamped her mouth shut. “Come on, let me show you. Just jump, remember?”

With a sigh and a softening of her face, she answered, “Yes, I remember.”

“Good.” I turned to my bass and tilted it to forty-five degrees, putting almost all the weight on ribs of the instrument’s base. The neck rested in my left hand, and the waist hooked on my left thigh. “All right, come here. Nick, spot her, would you?”

“You got it,” he said, bounding over to us.

Val approached me warily.

“Okay, put your right foot here”—I patted the notch at the waist of the bass—“and take my hand.” I offered my right hand.

She did as she’d been told, her foot fitting into the curve. Her knee hitched, her calf resting against my ribs. I found myself smiling. Val didn’t look amused.

“All right, now, I’m going to duck, and I want you to use my hand for leverage to swing your leg around my neck. Put your left foot on the shoulder of the bass. Right here.” I patted the curve where it met the neck of the instrument.

A breathy laugh escaped her. “I can’t—”

“You can. I’ve got you, Val. If I can hold Chris, I can hold you, easy.”

She took a deep breath and looked behind her at Nick, who offered an encouraging nod. “Okay.”

“On three. Ready? One, two, three.”

Her clammy hand bore down on mine, and I ducked so she’d have a shorter distance to throw her leg. She placed her foot on the shoulder, right where I’d said, and just like that, she was standing on the ribs of my bass with her thighs around my neck.

There were a grand total of zero places I’d rather be than between Val’s legs.

She let out a triumphant whoop, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“See? I told you. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah, you told me so. What’s new?”

“How do you feel up there? Steady?”

“Surprisingly steady. Have you got me?”

“Rock solid. Think you can play like this?”

“Absolutely. But…” She paused. “How do I get down?”

“Jump.”

She laughed, but the sound stopped abruptly when I craned my neck to give her a look. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“I can help you down, but it’s cooler if you jump.”

She took a noisy breath. “Any tips?”

“Yeah, don’t fall.”

“Thanks,” she said flatly.

“Put your hand on my shoulder and use it to steady yourself.”

“Okay. One, two, three!”

I grabbed the neck and held on tight as she kicked off, and it must have been a good one because the guys broke into whistles and cheers.

When I turned to look at her, I found her grinning at me. “Again!” she crowed.

And with a laugh, I assumed the position again, offering my right hand for her use.

As far as I was concerned, she could use me all she wanted.

I thought back to her request—to extend her education to the bedroom—and a flash of desire washed over me in a hissing yes. God, the things I wanted to teach her. To show her. I knew in my marrow she’d never been subject to body worship, and I wanted to worship every curve. I wanted to go to church, get on my hands and knees and pay homage to every warm, wet space in her body.