Neither of us speaks.
After a long moment, he turns in my arms. Looks down at me with blue eyes that shine silver in the dim light.
"You're not supposed to be here," he says, voice rough. "You shouldn't sneak up on me. Especially when I'm in one of my dark moods."
"Are you in one of your dark moods?" I ask.
His expression shifts. Softens.
"Not anymore."
We stare at each other. The air between us thickens with everything unsaid. With want and fear and the particular tension that comes from two people who've been circling each other for weeks, finally standing still.
Very slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, Maksim lowers his head.
And then he kisses me.
It starts soft. Gentle. His lips brush mine like a question, and I answer by pressing closer. His hands slide up my arms, across my shoulders, into my hair.
The kiss deepens. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, and I open for him. Taste whiskey and loneliness and desperation barely contained.
Two wounded people breaking at the same seams.
He spins me around, lifts me, and suddenly I'm sitting on the piano keys. They clash beneath me, discordant notes that somehow feel right for this moment.
His mouth trails down my neck while his hands grip my hips. I feel the cool lacquer of the piano against my thighs, the heat of his body pressing between them.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of my yoga pants. Pulls them down, taking my underwear with them. The fabric tangles at my ankles until he presses his foot against them.
"Legs out," he orders, and his voice is command wrapped in velvet.
I obey without hesitation, pulling my legs out of the fabric. I Sit bare on the piano keys in nothing but my oversized shirt.
We make music of our own. Discord and harmony. Chaos and precision.
He pulls my shirt over my head. Palms my breasts like he's memorizing their shape, their weight, the way my nipples harden under his touch.
"Beautiful," he murmurs against my skin. "So fucking beautiful."
His mouth finds my nipple. Sucks hard enough to make me gasp, hard enough that pleasure and pain blur together. His fingers pinch the other nipple while his free hand slides between my thighs.
He finds my clit. Circles it with practiced precision while pushing two fingers inside me.
I'm already wet. Already desperate. The combination of his mouth on my breast and his fingers working me with relentless skill pushes me toward the edge faster than I expect.
I come with a cry that echoes off the high ceiling. The piano keys clash beneath me as my body jerks and shudders.
Maksim doesn't stop. Doesn't let me recover.
He frees himself from his trousers, and I look down at him in the moonlight.
He's big. Thick and long and already glistening at the tip.
Nervousness flickers through me. Anticipation chasing it.
He positions himself at my entrance. Starts to push in.
"You're tight," he breathes against my neck. "So fucking tight."
