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He looks unconvinced.
“I get it. You haven’t done it in a while. But that doesn’t mean it’s not your thing. Like when I’m drawing and painting. It’s the only time my mind ever slows down enough that I can make sense of my thoughts. It’s the only way I know how to be completely honest. It’s how I work out my pain. And for most of my life, it’s the only time I’m completely at ease.”
“Yeah. I know what you mean. I haven’t felt that way in a long time, Beth.” The excitement on his face is an echo of what I’m feeling.
And it terrifies me.
“You ready to play some more?”
He looks unsure and a little surprised by my words.
“I promise I won’t say a word. You can just pretend I’m not here.”
His eyes narrow. When with no warning, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his body.
I’m average height for a woman, but he’s above average height for a man, and my eyes are level with his collarbone. I have to drag my eyes up the smooth, tan column of his throat, past his square, lightly bearded chin, over the twin mounds of perfection that are his lips, up the tiny bump in the ridge of his strong nose to his eyes.
And the look in them sends my pulse into a sprint. The unabashed adoration threatens to catapult me back in time. He’s always looked at me like this…like he could see the same magic I imagined.
But the naked need in them is new, and it keeps me firmly tethered to the present.
He runs a finger along my temple, tracing my hairline before he cups he back of my head with his hand. Gooseflesh ripples across my neck and runs up my scalp. My heart is beating out of my chest.
“I thought my memories of you were inflated, but they weren’t even close.” His voice is soft and deep and vibrates between us.
“In—” I have to clear my throat. “In what way?”
“Your skin is so soft. I’ve missed touching it. Seeing it.” His fingers sink into my hair, and his grip around my waist tightens.
“I see.” My body is one big pulse point, and I know he can feel it beating in time with his.
He’s looking at me like he’s seen all my sketches and knows he can have me any way he wants.
And this is why I put on the worst underwear imaginable.
I knew this was going to happen, and Lord help me, ninety percent of me wants to let it.
I disentangle myself from the sweet cradle of his arms and step away. “You ready?” I plaster a smile on my face.
His eyes blaze with frustration, and he blows out a harsh breath. He drops his gaze to the floor and is quiet for so long that I’m afraid he’s going to say no. But then he looks up and claps his hands together with a resigned but good-natured smile lifting the corners of his lips. “Absolutely. You draw, I’ll play,” he recites it like a mantra and then retreats to the piano.
I stare longingly at the broad muscles of his back for a beat before I sit down.
As he circles the piano, he runs the flat of his hand over the top in a stroke that’s reverent. He smiles to himself and skims his fingers along the keys before he sits on the bench.
“Music gives a soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination and life to everything,” he says before he starts to play a bright, little melody one-handed while he talks. “Plato said that.” He’s smiles to himself.
“Well, tell me what Carter Bosch has to say.”
He bites his lip and then laughs as he starts to use both of his hands. I don’t recognize the song he’s playing, but for now it’s just background music for our conversation.“I would say music is the miracle that saved me.”
His eyes slide to me, and the look in them steals my breath It’s the wide open, vulnerability that comes with being in love…
“It saved you?” And now, I’m jealous of a piano.
He nods. His fingers dance lightly over the keys, playing scales, slowly, deftly. “Let me play for you.” His voice is deep, sensual, and a tremor of exci
ted anticipation runs through me.
