Page 82 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens
The notes of the piano became slower, quieter, longer until the very last key let the music flow between us. I dragged the bow against the strings in our last dance, letting the music fly free.
Francis’ amber eyes met mine when he closed the fall board of his piano. He carefully took the violin from my hands, setting it down atop his instrument.
His hands embraced mine when he got up from the stool. Our faces were mere inches from each other as he stroked my palms. Thick air in between us made every breath a struggle.
My eyes traveled to his lips before finding them with my own.
His lips melted on my tongue. My head spun. The roses painfully tightened my insides, a quiet moan escaped my lips. My teeth pierced through Francis’ thin skin; the blood interrupted our kiss, making it sweeter.
More.A silent plea intruded my mind.More.
“I have to tell you something,” Francis broke our kiss, holding my face gently. His shaky voice covered my skin in goosebumps.
“Later,” was all I was able to say, afraid that any passing moment would sober my mind up. “Tell me after.”
I opened my eyes, meeting his amber irises. His eyes darkened under my gaze, his lips turned into a thin line, as though unsure of how to proceed with my demands.
My hands traveled toward his face as I broke his restraints with a kiss.
Our lips did not separate when Francis effortlessly picked me up into his embrace. Our lips did not separate when he carried me through the space, up the stairs, to my room.
Our lips did not separate when Francis closed the door shut.
Chapter 31
Crimson Touch
His soft lips tasted like cigars: bitter and sweet at the same time. Exquisite. The kiss woke every cell in my body, begging for more.
I put my trembling hands on his chest, unable to resist the urge to touch him.
We fought across the room, until my back was against the wall. Until his hands moved toward the back of my neck, toward my hair—
The fear knocked the air out of me; my own hand flew to his in an attempt to stop any further movement.
I gripped his wrist so tightly it hurt my own. I held it as if my life depended on it. My eyes met his when fear prevented my next breath. The room shook.
Francis moved his hands up. He nodded once at me in understanding without moving an inch. I focused on my breath, studying Francis’ eyes. His beautiful eyes. His eyes, no one else’s.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting the battle with my mind. Slowly, I let go of his hand, trusting him not to touch my hair again.It’s just Francis, no one else,I told myself, trying to calm my unresting heart.
Francis held out his own hands as if asking for a dance. Unsure what he intended to do, I took his offer.
Slowly, he kissed both of my hands gently before turning us around, until he was the one against the wall. He put my hands on his chest while placing his own against the wall.
