14
Aribel
Okay, I’d underestimated how good he is. Why didn’t I pay attention the last time I was at the ContraBand show? His voice was smooth and sexy, captivating the audience with the clever lyrics and easy rhythms.
Grant moved across the stage—guitar forgotten, microphone in hand—as he belted out the bridge of the song. His stage presence was the male equivalent to a Siren entrancing and capturing its victim. He owned the stage, the music, the lyrics, the people, the lights, and the sounds. The whole f*****g room belonged to him, which inevitably meant that I belonged to him.
His eyes swept the crowd, making every single person around him feel like he was singing the song specifically for to that person, but then his eyes would return to me—intense, enthralling, and alluring.
I co
