Not Quite Juliet: A Club Imperial Novel (Silver Soul Book 1) (29 page)

Nick laughed lightly, and we wiggled into the bed. He kissed the top of my head. “Thank you.”

––––––––

I
yawned and stretched, and found the bed was empty. I rolled over to see if Nick was in the bathroom, but it was dark—in the room and in the bathroom. Strange. I sat up and noticed his boxers were nowhere to be found, and I knew I’d tossed them across the room earlier.

There was a strange musical tinkling coming from down the hall. Pulling the sheet closer, I listened to the sounds. A moment later, my foggy brain cleared and I recognized the piece as
Moonlight Sonata
. It was drifting up the stairs from another part of the house.

I gasped, realizing Nick was at the piano. I grabbed the chemise I had been wearing and pulled it on, moving quickly through the hallway and down the stairs. I couldn’t miss this; he’d never played when I was around.

By the time I reached the door,
Moonlight Sonata
was done. He was playing something that sounded like Billy Joel’s “This Night”, but as he reached the chorus the song changed. I’d just been schooled: Billy Joel had ripped off a classical artist.

I listened from the door of the library where the big, beautiful Steinway sat. It was a full grand; not a baby. He had the top closed, and the music was dampened. Nick sat on the bench, back straight, hands moving gracefully and purposefully over the keys. Truly tickling the ivory. There was no sheet music, which meant he’d never really stopped playing—he just didn’t play for anyone anymore. He swayed slightly to keep the rhythm, and it seemed as though the rest of his body was enspelled by his hands.

The music changed again and his fingers seemed to expand and move even more quickly over the keys, and for some reason I knew this song. I listened carefully, the melody picking at my brain—and I realized, it was “Distracted Alone” by his own band.

It was utterly haunting the way he was playing it, and the meaning went from the depth I understood it as, to something almost abyssal. The band played it as something of a power ballad, sweet but strong. This was heartbreaking.

Nick needed to know there was an audience, so I started singing quietly at the second stanza.

“
Distracted by the hole you left, alone you left,

I couldn’t catch my breath

Why did you have to leave, take my heart

With you, ripped away from you.”

He kept playing and I walked in slow on soft steps, singing the chorus.

“
There is nowhere for me that doesn’t have you

I want to see those sweet eyes stare back me

But you’re gone, you’re gone

And the hole you leave behind

Leaves me distracted alone...
”

I stood next to the piano, and his hands stopped moving, stopping the music. He didn’t open his eyes. He let out a long, slow breath. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You did,” I answered, “and I’m glad.” Nick opened his eyes, and they were still sad. “It’s a far more gorgeous song when you play it on the piano. It’s always been one of my favorites.” I paused, waiting to see if he was going to say anything else. “This is Ava’s song, isn’t it?”

“The only other girl I’ve ever written a song for.”

I leaned on the edge of the piano with my hip. “I know you don’t love this instrument, but by God, Nick. You can play. You should.”

“I don’t love this thing,” he said, angrily. “I hate it.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you hate the piano?”

“Because it was all I knew as kid,” he said, running his hand over the black lacquer of the wood. “It was all I knew through high school. I had to give up so much for this; I wonder if sometimes it wasn’t to blame for making me blind to Casey’s alcoholism.”

I spun around, sitting next to him on the bench. “Nicholas. The only person who was responsible for Casey’s drinking was Casey.” I grabbed his hand. “This piano has nothing to do with it.
You
had nothing to do with. You can’t blame yourself for what Casey did.” I ran a thumb over his knuckles, slowly. “I don’t even think you should blame Casey for her drinking. Addiction is a horrible, horrible disease.”

“My daughter...” he whispered.

I put my hand on his chest. “She’s here. You wrote that song for her. Why don’t you play for her? Don’t play because someone made you. Play because you can. Play because someone is always listening. Play because those someones want to hear.”

He took my hand and interlaced our fingers, then unlaced them, and repeated the motion a few time. “Do those someones really want to hear, or are they just trying to be nice because I woke them up?”

“You can wake me anytime with
Moonlight Sonata
,” I smiled at him. I nodded to the keyboard. “Play something fun.”

“Fun?” he asked.

“You were playing all the maudlin pieces. Try something light. Um... Chopin. He has lots of whimsical waltzes, doesn’t? How about a Strauss?”

“Strauss sounds terrible on the piano,” he grimaced. “I could do a Chopin... I remember those.”

“Play for me, doctor,” I said. “Play for Ava. Something happy, upbeat.”

After a moment, he moved his hands back to the keys, finding a single raised black key. He tapped it, thoughtfully, then suddenly it rang out in galloping sound and his finger tripped across the keys in a happy, playful concerto. I guessed it was a Chopin; I wasn’t that great with classical music, but if he was going to play, I was going to learn.

He didn’t go very far into the piece before he stopped and looked back at me. “You know, if I’m going to play, I’m going to play something I want to hear. Stand up, please?”

I was taken aback, but I stood from the bench, and he pulled it open. The whole thing was packed with sheet music and books full of piano music. He riffled a bit, pulling out a yellow and green covered one, and opened it up to a marked page. “I wonder if it just took the right person at the right time to make me realize I don’t hate this instrument. I just hate what it represents to me,” he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. He flipped his invisible coattails and sat down. This piece was short, happy and powerful. The best part of it was Nick started smiling half way through his rendition. When he finished, his fingers rested on the keys, and he looked at me. “Get on the piano.”

“What?” I couldn’t possibly have heard him right.

“Get up on the piano,” he repeated.

“Nick—”

“I want to love this instrument and staring at you up there is going to help.”

“You’re serious!”

“Up,” he commanded again.

There was no arguing with the tone in his voice—a command laced with lust. And I was damn curious what he had in mind. I looked around and found a step stool he clearly used to pull books off the library shelves. I pulled it over, stepping up once, twice and then sat my ass on the top of the piano. I opted to lie down on my stomach and face him. As soon as I did that, his eyes went straight to my breasts, lingering and memorizing them.

“Hey, I’m up here,” I teased, tipping his face so he could see me.

“Oh, I’m not going to lie about where my eyes were, kitten. Those...those are truly inspiring.”

“Play for me, Nick,” I whispered, trying to make my voice as seductive and husky as possible.

He started tinkering on the keys, and it only took a moment for me to recognize the song: “Unforgettable.” He started singing the lyrics in his a gorgeous deep toned voice I never heard him use before. His fingers danced slowly and seductively across the keys as his voice wrapped around me. My smile started off as a goofy grin and the deeper into the song he went, the more my smile slid off my face. I was lying on his piano, and he was singing me the most amazing private rendition of one of the most classic love songs ever.

Nick was not kidding. He wasn’t tinkering with the music, he wasn’t regurgitating lyrics.

He was singing.

To me.

I was melting under the scorching blaze of his eyes as he poured his heart out to me, and drank me in at the same time. I seemed to be the only thing that could quench him. His honesty, his intensity, his velvet voice...

On the last note, he leaned forward and caught my lips in a kiss that was breathless before it started. He pillaged me, taking everything I had, everything I felt for him, and pouring the same back to me. His hand slipped up behind my head to pull me in closer—

“Nick!” I gasped, trying to pull back.

It was too late. The satin chemise had no grip to it, and he’d hit the point of no return on my balance. I slid forward trying to stop myself, hook my feet on something, grab the keyboard, the bench—but there was nothing. The slide was inexorable.

Nick realized what he’d done a moment too later. He wrapped his arms around my chest and tried to push me to a stop and we could figure out that awkward extraction later. It didn’t work; I was already moving too fast, and he was at a terrible angle to stop anything. Legs slammed back down to the piano bench and Nick sat hard, hoping to stop me.

No dice.

The whole tangled mess—me, flailing; Nick seated and stuck; and the piano bench and cover pitching over—continued the slide with gathering speed.

I nearly tackled him, and we both went down: him on his back, me on his front, with the cover of the keyboard slamming shut behind me, and the bench tipping up trying to hold its purchase then giving up. We passed the balance point and slammed, lock stock and two smoking barrels, into the floor of the library.

Immediately, I rolled off him where we had landed. “Oh, my God, Nick! Are you okay!?”

He sputtered, leaving me to think he was winded, or worse, hurt. A moment more of sputtering and I realized he was laughing even though the wind
had
been knocked out of him. A moment after that, the air came rushing back and his laughter peeled through the room.

“Are you all right, kitten?” he asked, looking over at me.

“I’m fine,” I answered, letting the humor of the whole thing finally sink in. “You know, Nick. Between this and the waterbed, maybe we should just stick to bed sex, and kissing in safe places. Not on pianos, by stairs... or anything I could potentially fall off of.”

“So noted, Ms. Kirkbride,” he said, the wicked glimmer of humor was still in his eyes. “This squelches my idea of ravaging you on the piano.”

“The moment is indeed gone,” I answered.

He sat up. “Come on, kitten. Let’s go to sleep. It’s been a damn long day.”

“Promise me you won’t let this piano grow dusty?” It was my only request.

“I promise,” he said. “Now. Bed?”

I amended him. “Non-water, safely on the ground bed.”

“Agreed.”

~*~*~

I
could feel lips fastened around my nipple, sucking gently, while a hand carefully kneaded my other breast. I remembered going to bed with a shirt on, but it didn’t seem to be there anymore. I left my eyes closed and enjoyed the sensations being visited on me.

Wet and warm, Nick’s tongue laved my nipple slowly, nipping, licking, sucking. He was purring in delight, and the humming tickled softly. He kissed and licked his way down one breast and up the other, his one hand repurposing itself to knead the mound he’d just left. He was so focused on enjoying himself, he didn’t have a clue just how erotic his feasting on me felt.

“Nick,” I breathed.

He hmmed into my breast and the feeling shot down to my sex, waking it up. “Such awesome breasts.” His hot breath danced across my skin. “Every part of you is amazing.”

I ran my fingers through his hair, marveling in the softness and how guy’s hair so rarely looked messy. I trailed my nails down his back and scraped lightly across his ribs to tickle and tease. I felt him shudder against me.

His hands responded to my teasing by running down my sides and snagging the panties I was wearing, dragging them slowly off me and down my legs. He moved one hand back to my breast, and trailed the other to come to rest between my legs. His fingers brushed up one side of my sex and down the other. Nick slipped a finger inside, and I arched back in surprise at his gentle intrusion. “So good.” I breathed the words.

I heard the whisper of the foil packet being opened and was a little surprised. Nick hadn’t been diving right in, as it were. But only a short moment later, I felt his thick, heavy erection pressing against me, asking for entrance. My legs opened to welcome him and he slid home easily. My breath left my body in a rush while his lips softly licked and sucked their way up to my neck. Nibbling there, and on my ear, he started to move in and out of my wetness.

There was no urgency in this; it was just about being inside me, about me welcoming him in.

I brought my lips to his shoulder and kissed the warm, velvet skin. My hands skimmed down his back and palmed his glorious backside, cradling the firm globes in each hand. Muscled, but soft, they were each a perfect handful for me. Just as he’d done to my breasts, I plumped him and reveled in the feel of him in my hands.

“So you’re a butt woman.” Nick teased my skin with a zephyr breath.

“As if you didn’t know that already.”

“Morgan.” It wasn’t a statement or question from him. It sound more like a prayer as his hand slid between us. He pressed ever-so-lightly on the hood hiding my clitoris and the feeling brought me higher. He moved as though I’d break, and I felt every inch of him, every movement, push and pull, scrape and tug through every inch of my body. His chest slid over my breasts, igniting the fire there, sending it down to my shivering and shuddering pussy.

I wanted more: more of him, more of us. I pressed him forward on me while I slid myself further down. He bottomed out in me and the light impact against my cervix sent a not-unlikeable sensation rippling down to where his fingers pressed and released against my clit. He realized what I was asking, and complied. A bit. Nick’s motions increased in frequency, but it was still slow, still something unhurried, genuine. He wanted nothing more from me than to feel me around him, and for the first time in my life, I felt as if the climax wasn’t the goal.