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“Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D. Do you know it?”
She nodded, her eyes filling with pain. “I do,” she whispered. Her wrist bent the faintest amount and her fingers moved. Twitched almost. He recognized the pattern and gaped at the back of her head. “You’re a violinist.”
She didn’t turn around, but also didn’t deny it this time.
“Does it matter?” she asked after a long silence.
“Why wouldn’t it?” He stood and walked to her, turning her around by her shoulders. “Why deny it?”
She looked up at him, such pain in her eyes he winced. He reached up and caressed her smooth cheek. He started to lean down, knowing he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to scare her away. But God, he couldn’t help himself. His lips brushed against hers, a feather-light touch, but he felt it in his very soul.
She stiffened but didn’t pull away.
Without thinking about it, he wrapped his hand around her waist and pulled her closer. She grabbed hold of his arms and he slanted his mouth against hers. She parted her lips and he slid his tongue against hers. She relaxed against him, sliding her hands up to his shoulders.
When he pulled away, her eyes were wide, her lips parted. She swallowed and blinked several times. “Why’d you do that?” She pulled away and lifted her hand to touch her lips.
“I don’t know.” He released her and she took several steps back, blinking and staring at him. “I’m sorry.”
She stared at him and sucked in a shaky breath, her chest heaving beneath the black dress she wore.
“I wasn’t trying to seduce you. I...” He ran his hands through his hair. “I couldn’t stop myself.”
She searched his eyes and chewed her lip. That delectable lip he wanted to taste again. But he didn’t dare. She didn’t look angry.
Nervous.
Suspicious.
But not angry.
* * *
Emily stared at Mark.
Mark Pierce.
Who kissed her.
Was she dreaming?
How many times had she stared at his photo, wondering what it would be like to kiss those full lips of his? To stare dreamily into the darkest of eyes belonging to a man who lived and loved music from the depths of his soul.
He’d kissed her.
He looked as shocked as she felt.
She didn’t want to leave, but she was terrified to stay. She wanted him. Her entire body hummed with desire for this man whom she’d had a crush on since she was twelve.
He’d kissed her.
He’dkissedher!
“I’ve never told anyone who my real dad is.”
“What?”
“That photo of my biological dad... I... always made up something about him, why I had a photo of him. Never admitted to anyone that he was my real dad.”
