Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 97452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97452 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
So I kept my eyes on him, and he did the same.
Blue to green.
Taking another deep breath, I tried to relax my tense shoulders, and I placed my trembling hands on the piano keys. My touch was light, barely even touching. My fingers softly moved over the keys, and my mouth curved up in a small smile.
I missed this.
Not just the piano, but this moment between just Alessio and I.
I missed him. His presence, his smile, his twinkling bluish steel-colored eyes. I missed everything about us.
So I played.
While we never took our eyes off each other, I played to him like I did every night. I played for us.
The music flowed, cocooning us in its warmth. A sweet, gentle melody. Something I had learned while I was trying to escape the darkness that Alberto would always throw me in.
It always brought me peace, but in this moment, I wasn’t doing it for me.
I was doing it for Alessio, hoping it would bring him peace and ease the pain I had caused him.
I didn’t have much to give him, so I gave him the only thing I had. The only thing I knew I had. Something I had treasured close to me for years.
After playing the song once, I played it a second time. My eyes caught Alessio’s shoulders dropping as he started to relax in his sofa chair. A breathy sigh escaped past his lips, and the pained expression on his face slowly started to fade away, until he was staring at me with soft eyes.
I melted into his stares, my heart accelerating as I took him in.
As the song came to an end for a second time, I paused, my fingers laid gently over the keys as I breathed. Alessio stayed still, and he waited for my next move.
Slowly pushing the bench away, I stood up and walked around the piano until I was standing in front of it, facing Alessio. There was nothing between us. I just had to walk a few steps and I would be in his arms.
And that was exactly what I did.
One second I was standing away from Alessio and the next, I was right in front of him, standing between his spread legs. My knees touched his sofa chair as I looked down at him.
My eyes moved over his hard, muscled chest and then down the length of his arms until they landed on his right hand.
He was still holding the flower I had given him.
A single white peony.
His fingers were wrapped around the stem like he never wanted to let go. But even then, his hold looked almost gentle, as if he was scared to ruin the delicate flower.
I choked back a sob as my eyes moved to his other hand.
He was holding the note I had sent him before coming to the piano room. I knew what it said. I had stared at it for hours before finally having the courage to send it to him.
Please come to the piano room. I want to play for you.
That was what it said. Simple words, yet it meant a lot to both of us.
Glancing away from his hands, I looked into his eyes again. Without giving it another thought, I sat down on his lap, settling myself sideways and leaning against his chest.
I felt Alessio’s shocked breath, and then his arms were around me, so quick that it took me by surprise. He crushed me to him and buried his face in my neck.
My name was barely a whisper against his lips, but I heard it. I felt it. Placing my head on his shoulder, I wrapped an arm around his waist.
We were both silent for a few moments. Alessio kept his face buried in my neck, and I felt him place a soft kiss there before tightening his arms around me.
“Ayla,” he started, but I squeezed his waist, stopping him.
“Just let me talk, okay? I need to say something,” I replied.
“Okay,” he readily agreed. “Whatever you want, Ayla.”
Moving my head from his shoulder, it forced him to shift away from my neck too. I sat up straight on his lap, our faces a few inches apart. My hands came up to cup his cheeks, my fingers rubbing gently over the slight stubble.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Alessio’s eyes widened, and he quickly shook his head. “No. Don’t—” But his flowing words were stopped by my finger pressed over his lips.
“No, listen to me, Alessio. Please, just let me get this out, okay?”
He sighed and gave me a sharp nod, his fingers digging into my hips. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I was angry and hurt, and I wanted you to hurt. I’m still angry and hurt from what you did, but I can’t hurt you. It torments me to think that you were in pain because of me.”