When the last section began, something new happened. The pressure in her chest, pulling her towards Liam, expanded until it felt as though her ribs were cracking apart and everything inside her poured out of the fissure. The music wrapped itself around her and flowed out of her body, reaching out to him in ribbons of red and purple, velvet streams of sound that bound them together in a way she couldn’t explain, a way she’d never felt before. It was almost painful to be that broken apart, that raw. But it was also glorious, comforting, like descending into a too-hot bath.
This is what it means to make art with your music. For the first time, she understood. This is what it means to be consumed by it.
The aria over, Lulu hip checked Min lightly, breaking the spell. “One helluva voice you’ve got there,” she said. “You come back and sing for us any time.”
The words barely registered, but the sound was enough to pull Min out of her trance and remind her to exit the stage, to walk back to the table where Liam waited, his hand wrapped around the bottom half of his face and his eyes so dark and liquid she could drown in them.
The closer she got to the table the more her legs began to shake. What if it didn’t sound as good as it felt? What if it was actually a mess and she just made a complete fool out of herself, trying to out-sing a soprano from the freaking Met? What if this unbearably sexy, talented man was trying to figure out how to leave because she’d just proven she wasn’t good enough for him?
She grabbed her wine glass and finished the last few sips without sitting down. A second after her empty glass hit the tabletop, Liam stood, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her behind him down a hallway at the back of the bar. She should have been nervous. She should have stopped him. Instead, she was swallowed by a wave of overwhelming relief, fire sparking over her skin where his hand circled her wrist.
Chapter Four
Halfway down the darkened hall, Liam stopped and turned so abruptly that Min stumbled. He pressed her back against the wall, planting his hands on either side of her head, caging her in and leaning towards her. He knew his eyes mirrored her own blown pupils, and he fought with himself to slow down.
He absolutely should not touch this woman here, not now, not when he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop. He should go to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face until he could stop thinking about the way her voice melted over him like warm caramel. Until he stopped picturing what it would be like to fuck her while she sang, to drive into her so hard she’d feel him inside her long after he withdrew.
Who was this woman? He’d never felt so connected to someone else’s performance, like he was a part of it even though he’d just sat there, unable to tear his eyes away from her.
Her voice was undeniably that of a woman in her early 20s – it would be years yet before she fully grew into the power of her tone. But the warmth, the raw emotion and lyricism – that wasn’t something that could be taught. That was all her. He’d never be able to hear anyone else sing that aria without comparing them to her. And he knew, no matter how much more her voice still had to mature, no matter how many parts of her technique could still be refined, there would be no comparison. No one else could twist him up inside with just their voice.
Liam traced the edge of her face with the back of his hand, his knuckles skating over the smooth skin of her jaw. He told himself again tostop this now, while he still could. But then she bit her lip, that bright tooth digging into the perfect pillow of her bottom lip, and the thin thread of his control snapped. Exhaling sharply through his nose, he crushed his mouth to hers, burying one hand in her hair and snaking the other around her waist, his fingers digging into her curves in a way that would surely leave bruises.
“Yes,” she whispered between biting kisses. “Mark me so tomorrow I can prove to myself that you’re real.”
Fuck. She’s going to kill me, talking like that.
He deepened the kiss, swallowing her moan, punctuating his desire for her with a sharp bite to her lower lip. He soothed the sting with a flick of his tongue before plunging into her mouth, tasting every part of her, stealing her breath.
She dug one hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, sparks skittering across his skin at the gentle tug. Her other hand slid under his suit jacket, threatening the last scraps of his control when she dragged her fingernails over the expanse of his back. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and that knowledge was intoxicating all on its own. He kissed her as if he needed to suck the oxygen from her lungs, as if he wouldn’t survive without the movement of her lips against his. As if he could taste the music on her tongue.
He knew he should slow down. She was young and they’d just met. But he was rapidly losing any remaining concern for decency. He should not be considering fucking her in the hallway of a goddamn bar, for Christ’s sake. That was not how their first time should be. Because he knew, without any doubt, that it wouldn’t be their last time. Once would never be enough with this woman.
The cautionary voices in his head were fuzzy at best, driven away by the feral need to claim her, to merge his body with hers. He was half afraid that if he stopped touching her, he’d wake up in his bed and it would all be a dream. She was too good to be true –too much like the picture in his head of the woman he always hoped to find, the one he hadn’t dared to hope for.
Liam trailed his lips down the elegant line of her neck, across her shoulder, swirling his tongue in the hollow of her throat. He couldn’t get enough. He wanted to taste every inch of her.
He cupped her breast, a perfect handful. His calloused thumb stroked along the bare skin between her breasts, teasing just under the edge of the fabric. Min’s nipples hardened into tight peaks pressed against his palm through her dress. The need to claim her tore through him. She clutched his head to her throat, holding his lips there as her hips pulled away from the wall and ground against the erection straining the front of his pants. Her moan matched his and he smiled against her skin. She sought out more friction, more pressure, morehim– and fuck if he didn’t want to give it to her.
“So fucking perfect,” he murmured against her throat. “Where did you come from with a voice like that?” he whispered as he kissed down her shoulder, pulling the strap of her dress down to make way for his kisses. “With a body like this?”
“Liam,” she gasped. He loved the sound of his name in her breathy voice. “Please.”
“What do you need, beautiful?” he growled as he nipped at the top of her breasts. “Do you need my mouth on you?” He pulled down one triangle of her bodice and sucked her nipple into his mouth so quickly she didn’t have time to stifle her moan.Christ. If she didn’t stop making noises like that, he was going to come in his pants without her ever touching him.
“Yes,” she breathed. “More.”
He replaced his mouth with his fingers, roughly rolling the hard bead of her nipple between his fingers, pinching and tugging as Min squirmed against him. He wanted to take his time, find every spot that made her moan, learn how to touch her to elicit that gasp as if her own pleasure was a surprise. He should not have started undressing her, not here, not when there was no way he could really take his time, when someone could walk in on them at any moment. Though she didn’t seem to mind. The idea that she might have a bit of an exhibitionist streak just turned him on more.
“Do you need my tongue in your pussy?” he rasped, pressing his thigh between her legs so she could writhe against him, shameless in her need for him. He tangled a hand in her hair, helping her find a rhythm against the muscle of his thigh with his other hand on her hip. “So beautiful. I bet you’re even more beautiful when you come.”
She groaned and ground against him harder.
“Would you do that for me, Min?” He skated his fingers down the slope of her belly, feathering them over her covered mound, just above where she rocked against him. “Would you come on my tongue?”
“God, yes,” she panted, her voice pleading. “All of it. Please.”
He devoured her mouth again, tearing at the fabric of her skirt until his hand slipped through the slit in her dress, his palm sliding up the smooth skin of her full thigh. His fingertips traced the edge of her lacy panties before cupping her between the legs, hard, her wetness seeping through the fabric.
