Standing beside the grand piano, I let my fingers glide over its smooth, cool surface, the familiar feeling grounding me. I take a deep breath, soaking in the moment of solitude that is broken when I sense a warmth creeping up behind me.
A finger trails down the side of my waist, caressing in the same way I just touched the piano, sending a shiver through me. Grey’s breath tickles my ear as he murmurs, “Princess.” I turn to face him, and in an instant, he closes the space between us, his body pressing mine against the piano. His voice is low, with a playful yet stern edge to his words, “You know I should put you over my knee for not answering meagain.” I chuckle despite the tension, and his expression turns into a scowl. “What’s funny?”
“Why did I know that you’d want to spank me for that?” I retort, the words slipping out more flirtatiously than I intended.
Oops.
There’s heat in his eyes—a fiery mix of frustration and something more tender—as he reaches out and traces my jawline with his thumb. “Because you did it again, even after I told you that I can’t handle not getting a response from you.”
“Next time, just give me a fucking sign that you’re still alive. Just tell me to shut up or whatever. It’s fine as long as I know that you’re still breathing. Okay?”
Guilt crashes over me, heavy and suffocating.I’m the worst.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s forgiven,” Grey whispers back, his eyes fixed on my lips before his fingers drift down, tracing the curve of my neck withsuch tenderness that my heart stutters. “See how easy that is? Your turn.”
“Grey…” My protest is weak, my resolve wavering.
“Shh, I know. That should have been a joke,” he admits softly.
“You don’t joke,” I point out, my eyebrow quirking up.
“Not when it comes to you, I don’t.”
The longing I feel is so intense it’s almost overwhelming.
“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask, trying to steer us back to safer ground.
“Playing the piano,” he says, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.
“What? Why?”
Why would he want this?
“Because you don’t like to play for a crowd.”
My heart.
“You can’t just sweep in and do?—”
He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine. “You have no idea what I can and can’t do.” His hand moves daringly down to the hem of my dress, his fingers skimming the sensitive skin of my thigh. I gasp as he ventures just a little higher, and his arousal presses against me. I know he’s holding back. “Will you let me do that for you?”
I nod, not quite sure if I’m agreeing to his hands on the piano or myself.
Grey’s lips graze mine as he says, “Good girl.”
But just as I’m about to press my mouth against his, he takes a step back, a knowing smirk playing at the edge of his lips.
Bastard.
He rounds the piano with a fluid grace, lifting the lid before settling onto the bench. I stand frozen for a moment, the suddenshift from intimacy to this casual display of distance leaving me a tad disoriented.
He glances at me, a silent invitation in his gaze. With a small sigh, I move to join him, sitting beside him on the piano bench. The cool wood beneath me is so different from the warmth of his body close to mine just moments ago.
Grey’s fingers begin to dance across the keys, and the first notes of “Nocturne” by Chopinfill the room,soulful and full of longing. His focus is absolute, each note played with precision yet infused with emotion. It’s as if he channels everything unspoken between us into the music, and my confused feelings blend into a quiet appreciation of his talent and the subtle way he communicates through the keys.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, almost to myself.
