Page 71 of Heart of a Witch
I gestured toward the stool in front of it and placed her glass on top of the rosewood piano. She placed her fingers delicately atop the ivory keys and closed her eyes. I took a sip from my wine, enjoying the crackling from the fire and heat of it on my back. The subtle nutty undertone complemented the spicy, dry taste.
The melody began slow and deep, with high notes lifting it into something masterful. Her fingers danced the tune, coaxing something smooth and beautiful from the keys. Her eyes were lost in the notes as she became one with the music. Each note weaved with the next, a song I both recognized and didn’t. It was slow but mesmerizing. I became transfixed as if the song were a story, her story. Her fingers pounded, moving from light to heavier movements as the music loudened. My heart raced as it arched, then slowed to an end.
She wiped her eyes, then placed her hands on her laps, staring at the piano as if she hadn’t just created something incredible. “That one’s called Ember.”
“Like an ember in a fire.”
“Something like that.” She picked up her wine and took a sip.
“You’re a great pianist. I had no idea. Do you play anything else?”
“The violin, cello, and harp, but I’m still a novice at the harp.”
I took another sip of wine, feeling somehow breathless even though I hadn’t moved. “It was beautiful.”
She didn’t look at me. “The food looks good.” She grabbed the platter and brought it down to the rug in front of the fire.
I kicked my shoes off and sat across from her, lying on my side. The fire’s orange hue danced in her brown eyes. “How did you learn to play?”
She ate an oyster and placed the shell back onto the platter. “My dad taught me before he died.”
“At least you have a piece of him with you.”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re not wrong.”
She glared at me, waiting, anticipation thick in her features. I didn’t look away as our locked gaze intensified. I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened at the shop, the way she’d pressed herself against me and whispered daring things against my lips. “Can I admit something?”
She shrugged. “If you care to.”
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after I left earlier.”
She tapped the side of her glass. “How awful for you.”
“It wasn’t that terrible.”
“So I’m not a complete bitch then?”
“Oh no, that you are.” I grinned. “But I like it.”
She leaned forward. “Of course you would. Sadist,” she teased.
“I thought I was a masochist?”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”
My breath hitched. “Don’t play with me if you’re not ready.”
She unbroached her collar. “But I like to play.”
Fuck.“So do I.”
She moved her hand to her top button and twisted it between her fingers until it fell open. She moved on to the next, and the ache in my groin increased, my erection growing until it was pressing against the inside of my pants.
She unbuttoned them painstakingly slowly, but I couldn’t look away. Finally, her shirt fell open, revealing her cleavage. Before she could do anything else, I leaned across the platter, pushing it to one side. Her wanting eyes found mine. Nothing but sharp intakes of breath were between us as flickers of touch arched her closer. Running my hand into her silky strands, I pulled her toward myself, deepening our kiss. Her nips on my lip sent a jolt down my length. Her fingernails danced to my midsection, which rippled under her touch. She nibbled again, and my pants became tighter, rubbing against me. I thrust my hips upward, ripping her shirt all the way down to her corset.
“Take it off.” I pulled back an inch, reaching my hand to her thick thigh and squeezing it under the skirt of her dress.
Her back arched under my touch, her lips as frantic against me as her fingers. I traced mine under her skirt but stopped at her thigh. She flinched, so I paused, looking into her eyes. She closed them, then kissed me harder. I took it slower, moving kisses up her neck to her ear.
