Kiss of Midnight_ A Midnight Breed Novel - Lara Adrian [748]
“It’s really too bad you can’t share any of this chocolate with me,” she said, biting into a piece as she sailed past him into the house. Closing the door behind them, he flicked on the lights for her and watched the fluid sway of her hips in the form-hugging black skirt. That view had been tempting him most of the night. “You sure I can’t convince you to try even just a little taste?”
He closed the space between them in about the time it took for her to blink. He kissed her, sweeping his tongue past her soft lips and into the delectable warmth of her mouth. The chocolate was bittersweet on her tongue, but nowhere near as tempting as the feel of her in his arms. “Delicious,” he murmured against her mouth. “I think I might just have to eat you.”
She laughed and gave him a teasing push, but her eyes were bright with interest as she looked up at him. “Let’s go take a short walk along the shore.”
He shook his head. “I have a better idea.”
“Oh, yeah, I’ll just bet you do.”
He smiled, gave her flushed cheek a gentle stroke. “Will you do something for me instead?” At her quizzical look, he took her hand and walked her over to the grand piano that was shrouded with a drape of fabric. “Play for me, Claire.”
“Oh, I don’t know…” she hedged, frowning as he removed the large square of cloth and unveiled the gleaming black Steinway. “It’s been so long since I’ve played anything. I’m sure I’ll be terrible. Besides, it’s probably been years since this piano has been tuned.”
“Please,” he said, refusing to be deterred. They would be leaving Newport in a matter of a couple of hours—as soon as he broke the news to her and called the Order to send a car—and he didn’t know if this might be one of their last times together. Selfish or not, he wanted to wring out every last moment of this special night together. “Play whatever you wish. I’m not interested in perfection. I just want to hear your music again. For me.”
“For you,” she replied, giving him a slow smile as she pulled out the little bench and sat down. “All right, but don’t blame me when your ears start to bleed.”
He chuckled. “I have no concern whatsoever. Play, Claire.”
She lifted the lid that protected the keys, then sighed thoughtfully as she brought her hands up to hover over them.
From the very first notes, she mesmerized him. He didn’t know the piece she played, but it was beautiful—haunting and sad, powerful. There was a heart breaking in every note, lyrical movement so deep and emotional, he could only stand there and let the music wash over him … through him.
As he watched her play the piece from memory, he felt the profundity of her own reaction to the music. She was living it as she played it, every stanza full of meaning. It was her own creation, he realized.
The beautiful composition had come from Claire’s own heart… her own soul.
“You wrote that,” he said softly as the final note trailed off.
She looked up at him with shining eyes. “After you left, music was all I had for a while. I wrote several pieces, including this one. It just seemed to… I don’t know… pour out of me in the first few weeks after you were gone.”
Reichen drifted closer to her, moved by the power of everything he was hearing and feeling when he was in this woman’s presence. “It’s incredible, Claire. You are incredible.”
He sat down beside her on the little bench. He gazed into her dark eyes, his fingers softly caressing the smooth perfection of her beautiful dusky brown skin.
When he kissed her this time, it was not with searing hunger but with infinite care and reverence. He held her as if she were made of glass, worshipped her mouth as though it were the rarest delicacy.
He loved her.
If he had longed to deny it—even to himself—the truth was staring him full in the face now. He loved this woman, even though she wasn’t his. Even though he was not good enough for her, and never had been. If nothing else, Roth had been right about that all those years ago.
“He knows about us,” Claire blurted quietly