Chapter 6

The bass from the upright instrument in the corner hadn’t stopped vibrating against my ribs, a low, throbbing hum that seemed to sync with the pulse in my neck. The air in the private back room of *The Velvet Note* was thick, heavy with the scent of aged whiskey, expensive cologne, and the musk of our own unwashed desire. It was just us, tucked away on the oversized leather Chesterfield sofa that had been pushed against the wall, far from the eyes of the patrons in the main room, though the jazz band played on, oblivious to the scene unfolding in the shadows. He sat beside me, his thigh pressing firmly into mine, the heat of him radiating through the thin silk of my dress. He hadn’t moved to touch me yet, not really, but the tension in the small space between us was a physical weight, a coiled spring ready to snap. I looked up at him, my eyes dark, drinking in the way the dim amber light caught the gold in his eyes, the slight crinkle at the corners as he studied my face like I was a puzzle he was eager to solve. He reached out, his