A Little Bit Sinful(50)

“Whatever you want to play,” he said. “Your favorite piece.”

Her fingers settled on the keys and she began to play. He watched her as she closed her eyes and leaned forward, her fingers flying over the ivories. She was hypnotic to watch and the music itself was perfection. He’d bought this piano years ago because his mother had played and he remembered that as a boy. But it had languished in this parlor, empty of music.

Until now.

Until Clarissa.

Her body moved with the music, her eyes closed, her lips parted and she played and played, the notes soared and crested.

She held nothing back tonight. Her lips parted, emotion flickered across her face. She was so beautiful, mesmerizing the way she moved, the way she felt the music. He didn’t understand why George didn’t want her, why she wasn’t enough for him, but right now Justin didn’t give a damn about him. Though he was thankful the man hadn’t yet claimed the lovely Clarissa.

Maybe someday he’d be able to convince her that she was more than enough for him, that he could take care of her in ways that George couldn’t, that once he gave her a vow, he’d never leave her side. But she shouldn’t have to settle, not for George and not for the bastard who so desperately wanted her.

“It’s beautiful,” he said.

Her eyes fluttered open and she finished the piece. “Beethoven’s 22 Piano Sonata. It’s not one of his more popular pieces,” she said. “But it has always been my favorite.”

He came to stand by her and she stood to face him. “What have I done so wrong that you keep sending me away?” she asked.

He pushed the bench out of the way, then pressed against her, putting his face close to hers. “You think you did something wrong?”

Her breath tightened. “Why else would you have stopped me? We were kissing and then you—” She swallowed. “You pushed me away.” She looked up at him. “Do you not find me attractive?” She held a hand up before he could argue with her. “I know you have said you do, but you are a charming man, Justin, if I were truly desirable wouldn’t you not be able to walk away?”

She did not mention George; she only wanted to know if he found her attractive. He wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned into her. Her bottom brushed against the keys, the dissonance of the notes rang through the room.

“Clarissa, you shouldn’t have to ask such a question. I find you exceedingly attractive. You’re so beautiful that when you walk into a room, it as if all other women fall away and there is only you. I’ve stopped only because I don’t want to ruin you.”

Then he kissed her, showing her how much he desired her, precisely how attractive he found her.

…

Even as he kissed her, his words rang in her ears. “When you walk into a room, it as if all other women fall away.” She had been told she was pretty before, but never quite like that. His kiss deepened and she nearly forgot why she’d come here tonight.

His kisses were intoxicating. Mesmerizing. And all the sensations she felt at his touch surged through her body. What was it about this man that made his touch and his kisses so very different from George’s? She’d told herself that she’d come here tonight to find out why the kiss with George had not created such sparks in her body, but now, in this moment, she no longer cared. And she could no longer deny the truth—she’d come here hoping Justin would seduce her, hoping he’d make love to her. But then what would happen? He’d said it himself. He didn’t want to ruin her. Ruination would mean marriage and obviously Justin had no intention of marrying her.

His hand slid up her dress, his palm against her stocking clad leg. That touch purged her mind of all other thoughts, she couldn’t think, could only feel. He stopped when he got to her knee, but the hidden part at the center of her begged for him to continue, for something she did not completely understand. With her sitting on the piano like this in front of him, she felt exposed, yet empowered. She opened her legs wider, pulled him closer to her.

He kissed her neck, nibbling at her throat. And his hand traveled upward from her knee to her thigh. She put her head back and focused on the sensations he caused with his hand, his mouth.

Her brief kiss with George had been without even a glimmer of passion. It couldn’t simply be her skill level as she felt so different in the arms of this man. His mere touch brought awareness to her entire body, as if every nerve ending was alert, waiting for his command. One kiss with Justin Rodale and desire pooled to the center of her body, making her ache, making her crave, making her wet. His hand continued its climb up her leg and his mouth found her breast.