Viktor will put bullets in both of you.
Most likely.
But until then, I made myself comfortable, and I waited.
She walked in at 7:14. One minute early.
I tracked her as she made her way across the restaurant—the tap of her cane against the marble floor in the entryway, the way she sidestepped Geoffrey without breaking stride when he lunged for her elbow. Good girl. She didn't need his hands on her.
She didn't need anyone's hands on her.
Except maybe mine.
Stop.
Inhaling deeply, I watched and waited.
Tonight's dress was emerald green. It wrapped her waist, left her shoulders bare, and pushed her tits up just enough to make my mouth water. The neckline was cut low, giving me a shadow of cleavage that was much more visible when she bent forward. Her collarbones caught the candlelight.
Delicate.
Lickable.
I wanted to trace them with my tongue. Map the hollow of her throat. Find out what sounds she'd make when I bit down on that soft curve where her neck met her shoulder.
She mounted the platform and reached for the bench, making sure it was in the right position before she sat. Then she felt for the edge of the key lid. Her fingers brushed the coffee cup.
She stopped.
Her head cocked to the side with that bird-like tilt that meant she was processing, cataloging, filing information away. Her nostrils flared as she brought the cup to her nose.
She became very still, and then a smile spread across her face. Not the vacant one she gave everyone else. This one was sharp. Knowing. Secretive. Meant only for me.
She took a long sip and set the cup beside the bench. Then her fingers found the keys.
Debussy.Clair de Lune.
She was playing me a fucking lullaby.
My cock stirred against the zipper of my slacks.
I leaned back against the wall, tension coiling through my shoulders, and watched her hands move across the piano keys. Her fingers were long, her touch precise. They pressed and released, pressed and released, coaxing notes from the instrument like she was stroking a lover.
I thought about those fingers on my chest. My throat. Wrapped around my hard cock.
Jesus Christ.
The music swelled, soft and aching, and Raven swayed with it. Her eyes were closed. She always closed them when she played, retreating into whatever world existed behind her blindness. I watched as her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with the melody.
She looked like a woman mid-orgasm.
God, I wanted to live in that world with her.
I was fully hard now. My cock aching and my muscles aching from forcing myself to stay where I was. My hand curled into a fist inside my jacket pocket, and I forced myself to breathe through my nose.
Don't touch her. Don't even think about touching her.
I groaned aloud.
