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surrounded them like a gale force wind. Haley’s leggings were
instantly soaked. Her thin cotton thong didn’t stand a chance.
Was she leaving a wet spot on the bench beneath her? Why
was that thought so deliciously hot?
A vicious twist to her nipple made Haley’s hands jar on the
keys, but she kept playing. She kept playing even though she
couldn’t breathe. Claire’s mouth was hot at her neck, her lips
suckling, her tongue caressing the tender skin. Haley shivered
and rocked her hips on the bench, aching, still playing. Her
eyes closed and her head dropped to the side, her mouth open
in a silent pant of need. Did she look wrecked and wanton?
“Anyone could see,” she repeated on a strained whisper.
“Anyone could walk by.”
“So? Let them see.”
Claire was only saying that because she knew no one would
walk by. Still. Her touch felt unreal. It was thrilling and
unexpected and molten. It felt very much like Haley had
drawn Claire there. Like she couldn’t stay away, even if she
wanted to. They weren’t captor and captive. They weren’t
enemies. They weren’t a contract, collateral and revenge. They
were just two people, two souls.
“So beautiful.” Claire’s breath caressed Haley’s cheek. “If I
touched you between your legs, what would I find? My good
girl, soaking wet? My filthy girl, playing the piano, but
wanting to be the instrument getting played?”
“Yes,” Haley panted. “Yes, I’m soaking wet.”
Her eyes flew open, and she wished she could see Claire.
Gauge her reaction. The expression on her face. She knew
Claire never missed anything. Would she change her mind?
Would she let Haley finally touch her? How could she stand to
