Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 451(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
My heart jumps and skips in my chest and I’m holding my breath as he approaches, sauntering down the aisle, out of the darkness and into the light. His eyes are glued to mine, his shadowed gaze intense under those low brows.
I feel buoyant. So light that I might just float away. Just seeing him here, knowing he’s come for me, knowing that he was watching me in secret…I hate how many butterflies he’s let loose inside my chest.
“You really took my critique to heart,” he says in a low smooth voice as he approaches the stage, staring up at me. He nods at my feet. “Don’t know the last time I saw someone play with bare feet.”
I raise my chin, feeling on the spot. “I didn’t think anyone was here.”
A sly grin twists his mouth. “I know you didn’t. Which is why I was so keen to see how you’d perform on your own. Without me, your classmates, or any audience at all watching. I wanted to see how you play when you’re just playing for yourself.”
Well, thank fuck he didn’t see me trying to use a spell to play better.
“And?” I goad him. “What did you think?”
He walks along the stage then up the stairs, the closer he gets to me the louder my heart beats against my rib cage. He stops right beside me, peering down at me and I feel so small next to him.
“I think you have a real talent, Dahlia,” he says in a low voice. “And you take a real joy in music. And that is so nice to see.”
I can’t help but feel a bit proud about that. Despite being helped along by a spell, I really do like what I play, I really do escape in the music I create. It clears my head better than anything.
“It’s the only time I can quiet the thoughts in my mind,” I admit.
His eyes are kind when he says, “I know. I’m the same way.” Then he gestures to the organ. “Do you mind if I give you some pointers though? It’s not often I get to have one-on-one classes with my students.”
I gulp. The tension in the air immediately gets thicker, making it harder to breathe.
I manage to nod, about to get off the bench but he places a firm hand on my shoulder, sending a jolt of electricity through me. “No, you stay where you are.”
There is an authoritative quality to his voice, quietly commanding.
He comes behind me now, his other hand on my other shoulder and positions me so I’m facing the organ.
“Put your fingers on the keys like you’re about to start,” he says.
I obey, placing my fingers in position.
He leans forward so that his lips are at my ear and I shiver as I feel his cool breath. “Let me guide you,” he whispers. “Let everything go.”
He reaches forward, his large cool palms sliding down over my bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, going all the way to my hands, his own hands encompassing mine, fingers pressed down over fingers.
“Now don’t look at your hands,” he says in my ear, his voice rich, making the hair rise on my neck. “Close your eyes.”
My eyes fall closed and he continues. “You work the keys in groups of three and four, like we practiced earlier.”
I try to remember and when I do, I tense up, almost bringing my hands off the keys.
“Relax, Dahlia,” he says quietly, his lips grazing lightly over the shell of my ear. “I’ve got you. Submit to me.” He pauses, bringing his lips down to my earlobe where he brushes it with his nose. “Let me be in control from now on.”
It feels like hot lightning is shooting straight down my spine into my core.
Fuck me.
I swallow thickly and try to nod, try to make a sound, but I already feel like I’m handing myself over to him.
He lets out a faint grunt and then brings my fingers down on the keys. I keep my eyes closed and let him take over, let the music flow from the organ as he makes me play like a puppet on a string.
“Just concentrate on the pedals,” he whispers to me. “Yes. That’s it. Inside of the foot. Yes. Trap the note.”
I do as he says, the notes rising louder and clearer than before, filling the room with drama that I feel vibrating in my bones. I can’t help but smile to myself, loving what he’s coaxing out of me.
“Yes,” he hisses. “That’s a good girl.”
My cheeks flush at that praise. How good it feels to hear it from him.
“Now I’m going to take my hands off yours,” he murmurs, his mouth going to my neck now. “And you keep playing. And I’ll play you.”
I want to ask him what he means by playing me but then he kisses the crook of my neck, a long, soft, wet kiss that makes my toes want to curl on the pedals.