Page 35 of A Lady of Means
Finally, he spoke.“I’ll play the right hand, you can play the left.”
Moria’s mouth fell open.“How did you know I was left-handed?”
“I’m a trained observer, remember?”the words came so close to her mouth, her eyelids flitted closed, a tear escaped.He brushed it away, kissing the corners of her eyes.A soft tendril of his hair had fallen in his eyes and brushed against her skin.
It was all too much.He was too much, she worried she wasn’t enough.She had never been.
“How long have you played the piano?”she asked, tilting her head to one side to look up at him.She wanted more of him, the inner workings of a man as solid as an oak tree, as gentle as the wind in its branches.
“Since I was about seven.My brother, Peregrine, was taking lessons and I wanted to be just like him.My mother thought that I was too large and jittery to sit at the piano with the discipline Peregrine did; so naturally, I took to it and worked hard to play the same songs my older brother was learning just to spite her.”
Moria let the laugh bubble out of her, unrestrained and unladylike.“I started for a very similar reason.”
“Something about older brothers, they’re quite smug, aren’t they?”
“Jasper was once…” she looked away pensively.“But then we lost our parents within six months of each other, he had so much responsibility on his shoulders at the age of twenty-seven.He’s carried the weight of an entire family, siblings who needed him as more parent than brother, an estate needing his care, and he’s done it with grace.”
She looked down at her hands fidgeting in her lap.Devyn brushed a stray curl from her face and held her hands to stop them from pulling at a hangnail.
“But there are things he can’t let go of.For example, there’s no piano at our house here in London.I’m not even sure what happened to it, it’s just….gone.I think it had something to do with the musicales and my mother always playing for guests.She was a great proficient.And now that remaining connection to her, it’s missing.”
He tipped up her chin with his thumb and forefinger, so her eyes were level with his.“I get wanting to hold on to things that bring us comfort or connection, I feel the same about my own mother even though her passing was so long ago.My father was a hard man for the loss of her.So, trust me, you don’t need that piano to keep her close.She didn’t leave you,” he shook his head.“How could she?Look at you.Who could let something like death keep them away from a face like yours?”
How did he do it?Peer into her soul like the clearest window and pull out the words she needed to hear?Moria didn’t say anything, she just ran her fingers over the keys, her left-hand caressing middle C, an old friend.
“On my count,” he spoke.She nodded.He knew music would distract from anything she felt.Maybe he knew because he’d done the same.
The numbers rattled off, and his fingers were moving.She followed, playing the lower keys.There were times he leaned an arm around her to reach the keys, to have an excuse to touch her.His legs tensed and brushed hers as he played the pedals.The sound of an A minor quintet filled the room, only a few notes missed or false.
No one had ever played with her, no one had ever offered, and no one had ever tried to keep up.They admired her and lauded her performance, but that’s what it had always been, and she had always been alone.Felt sad now that she thought about it, but the music didn’t let her stay there.When the notes carried her higher, she felt pulled along with them, when the notes were lower, she didn’t fall with them.When the music sped up, it only matched the rhythm of her heartbeat, the rhythm of two bodies creating the music of one.
And when the final chord was played, they crashed into each other.
ChapterFourteen
Devyn feltthe scrape of her fingernails digging into his shoulders as she kissed him, in his whole body.Her mouth collided with his and her tongue scraped the back of his teeth.He let out a hiss, leaning closer to her onslaught.
One hand gripped her small waist, fingers clasping to hold onto her.The other traced down her decolletage to the strap at her shoulder.He pulled it down gently, his mouth following the exposed skin down to her breast.Her skin was so gloriously soft and glowing under the glow of a candle on the piano.He felt her head tip back at the contact.
His tongue brushed a circle around her nipple, and the fucking whimper that came from her throat made him swear.
“Don’t forget the other one,” she demanded.
“Yes of course, my lady,” he murmured, moving his mouth to the other nipple in a slow stripe.
“You’re teasing me.Take them in your mouth.And be quick about it.”
She needed to be taught a lesson, his lady.His fingers in her coiffure tilted the back of her head so that he could speak his next words into her eyes.
“You don’t set the pace, my lady.I do.And I want to take my time,” he palmed one of her breasts tightly in his grasp, and she let out a gasp.“I didn’t imagine you could have tits this perfect and expect me not to give them the attention they deserve.”
He felt her pulling him up her body, her arms caging him closer, her legs wrapping around him.Her mouth wrapping around his and stealing his air.He didn’t need air, he could sustain himself on drinking the sighs and sounds she made.The tight space between her legs notched with his arousal, he felt his erection pulse against her.
“You want me?”she pulled back from his kiss to ask.
Why did she need to ask?He’d spent his concentrated efforts making sure she knew it and could feel the level of his want.
“I’m going mad with wanting you,” he breathed.
