“Because… because I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
“Good,” he growls.
Both hands come up, gripping my waist now, and he leans forward, pressing his head into my lap. His fingers run circles into my hips, massaging and awakening me. Leaving trails of fire.
My fingers tangle in his thick, dark hair, running my fingernails across his scalp and down his neck. He lets out a long, satisfied exhale. “I would stay even without you conducting or composing again. Even if you meant the post more literally than you first admitted.”
“Even if it means remaining here? Locked in the woods with me?” He arches an eyebrow, looking up at me with dangerous intent.
“Especially.” My voice comes out smooth, seductive. But inside my body trembles.
He turns his head, kissing up my inner thighs, the heat from his breath awakening the darkest parts of me. His nose slides between my legs, and he breathes me in.
I gasp at the unexpected move. Then, he leans forward, kissing me there. Unravelling me. Making me desperate for clothes to disappear.
“I’m not as experienced as you,” I warn.
He cocks his head with a lazy grin. “What do mean?”
“I’m a virgin.”
The words sit between us for a long moment.
“And you would give that to me?” His voice has a raw edge now.
“Of course. You’re the only man I want to give that to.”
My words hit something deep. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
His gaze flashes to mine, pupils blown. “You’re a world-renowned virtuoso. I can’t expect you to give up the stage for me.”
“So, you researched me after the letter?” I chuckle.
He nods slowly.
“Then you should know you’re the only audience I care about.”
The admission comes out small, though what I feel is anything but.
His eyes darken, face softening.
My voice strengthens. “This is what I want. What I’ve wanted since the first time I saw you conduct, though…” I shake my head, fighting the tremble in my voice. “I never thought it would be anything more than a fantasy.”
“I’m not that man anymore.” He sits back, face clouded. “Broken shoulder. Broken heart. Ruined career.”
Only one part stings. “Broken heart, really? Still?” My pulse stutters.
He grimaces as he thinks for a long moment. When his eyes meet mine, there’s a new lightness in them. “You’re right,” he says simply.
“Right about what?”
“What you said when you first came. That people could change. That I could change like the cadenza.”
Warmth blooms behind my ribs, my eyes blurring. “Yes.”
“But is it enough?”
