Nocturne(78)

I didn’t want to fight back. I was done fighting against my feelings for Gregory. Thoughts of Nathan’s phone call from the car, accusing me of publicly flirting with Gregory on national television, thoughts of his wife on the other side of the country—they all fell easily by the wayside as I was wrapped up in the arms of the only man I’d ever loved.

“Come with me.” The words were barely audible through his ragged breathing.

Discretion was the furthest thing from my mind as he took my hand and rushed me through the lobby toward the elevators. Everything was far from my mind. All I was doing was feeling. And it felt good. An elevator was ready right away, welcoming us inside before either of us could change our minds.

I wonder what would have happened if we’d been forced to wait.

As soon as the doors closed, Gregory pressed the 7 before taking both my hands in his, his tired eyes alive with passion I’d missed for several years. Gregory slowly glided his hand up my arm and over my shoulder before wrapping his hand around the back of my neck.

His lips were on my neck, and I threw my head back as I heard him rumble the words against my skin, “I’ve missed you, Savannah.”

The elevator doors opened and we were moving, quickly, down the hall. The rational part of my brain screamed I was making a mistake. That Gregory would only break my heart again. That he wasn’t even capable of real love, and that the one thing I’d never wanted was to be something he got on the side. That he was married.

And yet, I kept moving with him as he unlocked the door. He kissed me again when we entered the room, swollen lips on the side of my face, near my ear, murmuring words I couldn’t understand as I ran my hands over the expanse of his back and shoulders. My lips slightly parted as I tried to catch my breath.

Without thought or volition my hands were under his jacket, yanking his black t-shirt out of his waistband and sliding up his back, my fingertips digging into his skin. Toned muscles that I’d seen move with the notes from his cello were now flexing beneath my touch.

“Gregory …” My voice was a husky whisper as I lifted his shirt.

He took a step backward and shook off his jacket. When he looked up I saw everything had changed. There was no orchestra, no tour. No classroom. No Karin.

Karin.

His wife.

The harder I tried to picture her, the fuzzier her face became in my mind. Now was the time to stop if I was going to. To slide the shoe back on that I’d just kicked off and leave the room with as much dignity as I could.

As if he sensed my hesitation, Gregory took a step forward. I placed my hands on his shoulders and we both took a deep breath. As we exhaled in unison, his hands slid down my sides and over my hips. My eyes closed as I recalled Madeline’s guest room five years ago. Dawn threatening as we had recklessly torn off our clothes and gave in. The way his muscles flexed underneath me as he held my hips. The way his arms had encircled me as he cried out my name. Watching his eyes as he told me he loved me. That’s where I ended my trip down memory lane, choosing to push aside everything that happened in the moments that had followed.

“God, Savannah,” Gregory sighed as his hands slid down my backside. Now he was looking at me the same way. With the reverence I was certain he only held for his cello.

“I ... we ...”

I started to say it. I did. I started to say I can’t do this, or maybe, we shouldn’t do this. Or maybe what I started to say was I love you or we belong together. I don’t know which. The emotion washing over me was too powerful, too confusing to reduce to a few simple words. The moment for reason passed as his lips touched mine again, as our bodies touched, as his hands ran down my back and he pulled me toward the bed.





Gregory


From the moment she slapped me, the moment I kissed her, I knew I was lost.

I stumbled through my apology because I’d been wrong to say what I said. I’d been wrong to blame her. I’d been the one to ruin my life. And I hardly thought as I grabbed her and pulled her into my arms, as I kissed her, but I felt. I felt so much, so much that I’d lost since the day I let her walk away.

And as I pulled her to the bed, even then, I was split, confused, my mind and emotions everywhere. It was as if I had a voice in my head, telling me this was wrong. But on a much bigger level it was so right, because I felt a passion for her that I’d never felt before in my life.

Not since the last time I'd had her in bed.

I closed my eyes as she dug her fingers into my back. It wasn’t the physical sensations. It’s that it was her. It was Savannah, the woman I loved, the woman I’d always loved, the woman I lost. And then it was too late for thought. I pulled her to the bed, laying her on her back, and she was pulling at my shirt, lifting it off of me, as my eyes and fingertips touched the delicate white skin below her breasts and our lips touched again.

My fingertips slid along the base of her breasts, just a feather touch, but neither of us could withstand the anticipation. She reached out and pulled me closer, so we were holding each other tightly, both of my arms wrapped around her as we lay on our sides, my right hand cradling the back of her neck, our lips together.

We were scrambling to make up for lost time.

Her eyes fluttered open, and I broke off our kiss for a few seconds and stared into them. Brown, beautiful. I’d always loved her eyes. They watered, just a little, and she whispered, “I’ve never wanted anyone else.”