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But I needed to do something first. I needed to lay down some groundwork. To fulfill a promise to Brett that my woman would be cared for, surrounded by people.
I didn’t realize what a racket I made until I saw the blanket move in my peripheral vision. She was sitting up, staring at me, her long ponytail resting over her shoulder.
“Shit.” I halted my hands in the air. “Did I wake you?”
She had bags under her eyes, and I could still detect the slightest shaking in her limbs. She’d be sore as hell tomorrow. Her knuckles had bled a little on my sheets and I kicked myself for not patching her up before I was distracted by the music.
“Is this your room?” She asked with a slow, drowsy smile.
“If it’s not, then we’re being very intrusive.”
“What was that song?” She asked.
“Thatpiece.“ I corrected her, “Is just something I’m dabbling with.”
“You wrote it?” She cocked her head.
“Yes.” I felt suddenly defensive. Did she not like it? Music was subjective, of course. But a part of me was laid bare on that melody. If she didn’t like it, then she disliked a piece of me.
“It’s lovely,” she whispered. “What’s it about?”
She stretched her arms. She twisted her body, probably trying to pull some of the tension from her back. I inhaled, trying to steady myself with a breath, but it had the opposite effect. I could smell her skin, her hair. Jesus. I could still taste the salt of her skin on my tongue.
I put down the fallboard, covering the keys in the black wooden cover and stood up.
I was only a man. A very obsessed man. I only had so much willpower to resist a woman that had been designed for me.
I stalked toward her, and she watched me, expressionless. Maybe even a little curious.
“Why so curious?” I asked her, coming to the bed and crawling onto it toward her.
She leaned back, and her legs spread under the duvet. I gripped the sheet and pulled it down, watching the gray silk dance as it unveiled her body, inch by delicious inch.
She was only in her tiny shorts and sports bra, and the amount of exposed skin was making me dizzy with desire.
“I just thought it was pretty,” she whispered, as I took a position between her legs, putting my weight on her.
“It’s about a pretty girl.” And she blushed, looking away. Did she know it was about her?
“Oh.” Her voice fell. Was she disappointed?
I tilted my head, curiously staring down at her. I wanted to crack her head open and see what was going on inside.
“What?” I prompted.
“So… So is it about Soph—“ Her voice was wavering again.
”—Stop.“ I interrupted her. I brought a hand up to her forehead, pulling a stray hair away from her face. “If you say anyone’s name but your own, I will be really fucking insulted.” I clutched her chin in my hand and turned her towards me.
“You’re mine,” I told he, leaning to nip at her bottom lip. “The piece is about you.”
It took a while for that to sink in. It came over her face like the sun coming over the horizon and her beautiful lips parted, and let out a soft, relieved, “Oh?”
“Oh?” I mocked her, placing a kiss to her throat. “I’m glad you’re awake. Just this one last time.”
“Last time?” Her eyes were closed, and she moaned. But she didn’t require an answer. Not that I would have supplied one.
“The piece will be a part of a symphony.” I explained. “That piece you just heard starts here.”
