I watch my fingers as they gently move over the bare skin of her stomach. The only sound in the room is her soft breathing as I slowly move through some chords, imagining how they’ll sound against the words now running through my head. I’m trying to find the notes, the right combination to go with these words, but I’m completely mesmerised just watching my fingers dance softly over her body.
“What are you doing?” she suddenly whispers.
I smile. “Creating.”
“Creating?” she asks.
My head is resting in my hand, propped up on my elbow, next to her pillow. I glance at her and see she has one eye open in question. I smile as I lean in and softly kiss her lips.
“Yes, creating. A song,” I whisper against her mouth.
She kisses me back and asks, “Are your fingers playing some notes?”
“What do they sound like?” she asks me, raising her arms above her head and giving me more room to work.
“Amazing,” I whisper.
She exhales a long, slow breath out, her body moving beneath me. My fingers slip; distracted by her movements, by the way her body shifts underneath them.
“And the words?” she asks. “What are the words about?”
I smile again, leaning in to kiss her neck this time. “You Asha, they’re always about you.”
She moans, a low, primal sound from deep within her chest. My body reacts the way it always does when she makes that noise and I can no longer hear what my imaginary notes sound like, my fingers sliding over her and unable to find them anymore. The notes she’s making right now sound so much better.
“Am I your instrument?” she asks, understanding exactly what I’m doing to her.
I whisper against her skin. “You Asha, are my most precious and beautiful instrument, the one I treasure the most.”
Arching her back towards my hand, her next words undo something inside of me and make my whole body melt against hers.
I can only groan, before I do exactly what she’s asked me to.