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“I promise.”
She’s quiet for a beat, clearly thinking while she keeps playing. She’s artful with the tune, extending the opening notes, letting them repeat like a soundtrack to her thoughts, perhaps. “And why should I believe you?”
To her, I’m just a stranger in a mask. “Because I don’t want you to get in trouble.” I keep my answer simple, suspecting that’s what she needs.
“Why’s that?” It’s another challenge, but her tone’s softer. Maybe she’s letting down her guard.
I’m not about to admit that the way she wears that costume, like it’s who she is deep inside, caught my eye from down the block. Then, when I arrived in the ballroom, her music caught my ear. She’s a woman in tune with her senses. That’s what I’ve missed. That’s what I crave desperately.
She deserves a direct answer though, and, perhaps, proof that I’m worthy of her. “Ever since I saw you walk past those doors, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head.”
“Oh,” she says softly, then dips her face. “You saw me walk in?”
“Couldn’t look away,” I say, and her lips curve up. My god, I want to wipe the red lipstick off her mouth right now. “Still can’t.”
Life is short. Time is precious. I’m not here to fuck around.
She raises her face, meets my eyes, and plays on. “I saw you too.”
I smile at the acknowledgement of our instant attraction. “Good. Then, I ask again—may I join you?”
With a flirty smile, she plays past the opening notes at last. That’s a hell of an RSVP, and I take it, moving around the piano to the bench. I drink in the sight of her, from her creamy skin to the graceful column of her throat, to the mouth that I’m obsessed with already.
And her magnificent tits.
She ought to be worshipped in bed, and then, ideally, teased all night long.
But most of all, her dark eyes intrigue me. They sparkle with hidden wishes I want to grant.
She scoots over a few inches, and I slide right next to her on the bench. There’s a sliver of space between us, and she tips her gaze to the keys. “I’ve never played this as a duet,” she says softly. There’s a double meaning to her words. I’d like to find out what’s underneath them.
And frankly, under that gorgeous fucking dress.
“First time for everything…but,” I say, then dip my face closer to hers, “I have a confession. I can’t play a single song.”
“You tease.”
“You teased me with this song,” I counter.
“Did I?” she asks faux innocently.
“You absolutely fucking did,” I say, admiring her nimble fingers as they fly.
“Or maybe I just likePhantom of the Opera.”
“If I’m doing this right, you sure do.”
“I guess we’ll have to find out if you are.”
She’s making me work for it, and oh hell, will I ever. “I’m up for the challenge.”
I don’t know her at all. But I know this key detail—she likes to play, and I don’t just mean the piano. There’s a cat-and-mouse energy to her. A sense of gamesmanship was evident when she began playing “Music of the Night,” almost like she was summoning me from across the room.
Plus, I know from years ago that piano players here aren’t required to go full costume. But she did. And this choice of hers to dress like a goddess is so deliberate. So sexy. She might be playing the piano, but I suspect she wants to play other roles too. “I bet you were an excellent piano student once upon a time,” I begin.
There’s a subtle hitch in her breath. “I was.”
“I’m sure you listened and played perfectly during the whole lesson,” I say, emphasis onlesson.
