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more ragged. She leaned into Claire’s aura, inhaling the clear,

clean scent of her. She wanted to stand, to wrap her arms

around Claire and pull her close. To touch her, finally, at last.

To prop her up on the piano and do as many wickedly

wonderful things to her as she’d done.

Claire was too fast. She shoved away from the keys and

walked around the bench, behind Haley again, where she

couldn’t see her. She deprived her of her beauty, but not of her

scent. She leaned in, all heat and sweet perfume, and

whispered in Haley’s ear.

“Play for me, darling. Play what you were playing. Was that

your own?”

“Y-yes,” Haley admitted. She hadn’t played it for anyone

before. She hadn’t thought Claire would be listening, and that

if she was, she’d realize it was something she’d never heard

before. Her blush was immediate, mortification and pleasure

all mingled into one.

“Play.” Claire swept her lips over the shell of Haley’s ear,

over her cheek. She kissed her way down Haley’s neck until

she was melting into the bench. Her hands reached out,

unsteady, but when they hit the keys, instinct took over.

She’d been playing the piano since she was three years old.

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Her grandma, who had been her mom for all intents and

purposes, loved it. She was a great teacher. When Haley

surpassed even her grandma’s skill level, she’d been eleven

years old. Her grandma had found her the best teachers. Mr.

Johnson, who was so kind and patient. Mrs. Schmidt, who

taught her patience and theory and discipline.

Piano was something Haley wanted to pursue. For her, it

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