Dark Notes(64)

I could’ve called my dad to schedule her appointment, but I don’t want to field his questions tonight. Not when I still don’t have all the answers.

By the time she emerges in the kitchen doorway, I have two plates of heated linguine carbonara set out on the island.

She hovers on the threshold, her deep brown eyes darting between the food and my bare chest. Her expression creases with every emotion in existence before softening with a smile. “You cooked?”

“My catering service did.” I grab two glasses and a pitcher of sweet tea. “The oven warmed it up.”

She approaches the island, tugging the mid-thigh shirt down her tanned legs. Her long wet hair soaks the white cotton against her chest, revealing taut nipples and delicate shoulders. I find it impossible to look away. It’s as if every fiber of my being is tied to hers, and every movement she makes moves me, pulling me closer, deeper.

I never stood a chance.

“Thank you.” She sits on the bar stool, tucking the hem of the shirt between her legs. “This smells incredible.”

I settle on the stool beside her, twisting to face her, and stab a fork into the noodles.

Her eyes return to my chest.

I arch a brow. “What?”

She holds a finger in front of me, tapping the air as her concentration travels from my shoulders to my waist.

Is she counting?

Fuck me, my pecs bounce. All she has to do is look at me and my body reacts.

She drops her hand and turns to her dinner, mumbling, “Twelve indentations and ten muscly bumps.”

I glance down, trying to make sense of her numbers. I spend two hours a day, seven days a week in my home gym, honing my physique into tiptop shape for the same reason every other guy works out. To get laid. But now I want to hit the weights just to watch her count my muscles again.

She sucks a noodle off her fork, grinning. “You don’t look like a teacher.”

“You don’t look like a student.”

Her smile disintegrates.

I wipe a hand down my face, wishing I could call back those words. How many times have her looks attracted the wrong kind of attention? She attracted me.

She waves her fork up and down the length of my body. “You’d make more money modeling than teaching.”

“Do I look like I need money?”

“Good point.” She scans the kitchen, taking in the high-end appliances that never get used. She doesn’t ask about the source of my wealth, but I know she’s wondering.

I swallow a buttery bite of pasta and twirl more noodles around my fork. “My family holds the patent on the wooden bracings in pianos.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Really. So money is not my incentive for working.”

“Why work at all? You could live on a yacht, drink rum, and grow a smelly beard.” Her eyebrows lift. “Like a pirate.”

“A pirate.” My lips twitch. “As appealing as that sounds, boredom doesn’t suit me.” I would lose my f*cking mind. “I need challenge and self-earned success, and I find those things playing piano, teaching…” I give her a narrowed look. “And disciplining.”

Her eyes flicker. “You’re very good at that last one.”

“But not the others?”

A sly grin pulls at the corner of her mouth. “I’ve never heard you play.”

“I play every night.” Except I won’t be able to tonight.

I glance at my throbbing hand with no regrets.

She scrapes a forkful of linguine. “I know this is a big place, but I haven’t seen a piano.”

“I’ll give you a tour another time. Finish your dinner.”

She inhales the remainder of the pasta and follows it with gulps of sweet tea.

I finish mine soon after and slide the dish away. “I made a doctor’s appointment for you.”

Her fork clanks against the plate, her voice quiet. “I don’t have insurance or the money to pay for that.”

My hand flexes. I want to hurt her mother and every other person who’s never been there for her. “It’s covered.”

“I can’t—”

I slam my fist against the counter, rattling the china. “You will go to that appointment and get a full examination, for the sake of your health and for my peace of f*cking mind.”

Jaw clenched, she pitches me a stubborn glare.

She can scowl all she wants. I’m not finished. “From this point forward, the words I can’t are no longer in your vocabulary.” I angle forward until all she can see is my eyes. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Oh, you’re clear.” She holds my gaze. “And abrasive and surly. You have a terrible temper.”

A playful kind of youth twinkles in her eyes, but there’s something else there, too. Her lips separate to allow for the climb in her breaths, and she’s not blinking, like she’s forcing a mask of toughness and bravery.

Deep down, she’s scared. To stand up to me? To disappoint me? To put faith in what’s happening between us?

I close the inches between us and kiss her mercilessly on the mouth. Cupping her head in both hands, I work my tongue against hers, fusing us together, licking and biting and flooding her with every last drop of fervor I feel for her. I love her strength in the face of fear, her determination despite all her roadblocks, and f*ck me, I love her mouth. The way the hot, wet suction of her lips wraps around my tongue and hardens my cock.