She found Elijah sitting behind the piano, staring at the keys. He’d changed into a pair of over-washed jeans, ripped and frayed at the knees and hem, and a Nirvana concert T-shirt. She sank into the fluffy cushions of the sofa, one foot tucked beneath her. It was the perfect day to cozy up with a book. Thankfully she’d brought her e-reader.
Elijah didn’t look up. He continued to stare at the keyboard while his fingers moved soundlessly over the surface. Every now and then he’d hum a few notes before falling silent again.
Lowering her eyes to the e-reader, she tried to concentrate on the prose, but her eyes kept straying back to him, entranced by his inward focus. After a solid fifteen minutes of silence, he placed his hands on the keys. A haunting melody, soft and sweet, drifted from the piano. She resisted the urge to look up, stealing a stealthy glance through her lashes instead. She needn’t have bothered. All of his attention centered on the piano and the music.
She stared at his hands, mesmerized by the deft movement of his fingers. They meandered up and down the keyboard, caressing the keys like a lover. He had long, artistic fingers and large, capable hands. She knew from experience what those hands could do, the sensitive glide and press of fingertips on sex-slicked flesh. She clenched her thighs together, feeling heat and wetness between her legs.
A lump thickened her throat as the poignant notes hung in the air. An unnamed pang stabbed at her chest. Jealousy. She was jealous of a piano and what he was doing to it. How ridiculous was that? Heat and passion flared in his gaze, but it wasn’t for her. She felt like a voyeur, watching something intimate of which she wasn’t a part. He closed his eyes and rocked in time to the beat.
The e-reader fell into her lap, as he began to hum along with the melody, adding random lyrics at the bridge and chorus. Concentration furrowed his brow. She closed her eyes and drifted away to somewhere she’d never been before. His voice was deep and rich, scratchy on the high notes. When she opened her eyes again, he was staring at her.
“Come here,” he said, his voice soft and hypnotic. “Sit with me.”
She sat on the bench beside him because she had no choice. Her will was his will, and he controlled it through his music. His thigh pressed against hers. Words and notes poured out of him and into her, rushing through her body like a white-hot current of electricity. No longer an outsider, she became a part of the song. He was singing to her. Playing for her. Consuming her.
When the last note hung on the air, he turned to look at her. Lust prickled over her skin and took up residence between her thighs. Her fingers curled with the urge to fist in his hair. He licked his lips, drawing her focus to his mouth.
“Lauren.”
She couldn’t be sure if he actually said her name or if it was a telepathic plea. Either way, the sound of her name from his sexy, Pied Piper throat sucked her into an erotic vortex. The tempo of her heart escalated. Her clothes felt too hot and constricting. His broad chest swelled as he sucked in a deep breath.
“That was amazing,” she whispered. “How you do that. The way you pulled me in.” No wonder he had a closetful of music awards.
“It was about you.” His voice was rough and cracked. One of his hands went to her back and stroked down the length of her spine. The pressure slid her along the polished wood of the bench until her breasts pressed against his chest. He gazed down at her lips. “That’s what I hear in my head when I’m around you.”
“Oh.” She wanted to say more, to tell him how the music made her feel, how the notes seeped into her soul and painted a picture in her mind. After his serenade, words seemed too insignificant to express the emotion welling inside her.
He sighed and lifted his eyes to meet hers. Her heart stopped for a full second. The tide of the ocean eddied inside his blue irises. When his mouth covered hers, warm and soft, a swell of lust carried her away. She drowned in the ebb and flow of his tongue. Too soon, he pulled back.
“I’m sorry,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I brought you here to relax and have a good time, not to weigh you down with my bullshit.”
“It’s okay,” she said. To be honest, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but his mouth, wondering how long she had to wait before he kissed her again. Maybe she should kiss him. Take the initiative. She licked her lips.
“Are you always this easy to get along with?” he asked. One corner of his mouth tilted up.
“No. I’m an obsessive-compulsive neat freak. And I like to get my way.” She sucked in a breath as his finger stroked along her jaw, down her neck, to the top button of her blouse. A flick of his fingers slid the button through the hole.
“Well, looks like we’ve got a problem,” he said. The second and third buttons followed the first, each movement slow and tantalizing. He traced a finger along the lace edge of her bra cup and pulled it down to reveal her breast. “Because I’m a slob, and I like to get my way, too.”
“That is a problem.” Her voice trembled as he grazed one of her nipples with the stubble on his chin. Liquid blue eyes search hers. An ache began to build between her legs. “What are we going to do about that?”
“I might be willing to compromise on a thing or two,” he replied. The tip of his tongue circled her nipple, firing all the nerves at once.
“I’m not very good at compromise,” she said. The heat of his breath tickled against the delicate nub as his mouth slid from her breast and up to her neck.
“Maybe you could work on that?” he suggested. She angled her head to expose her throat, enjoying the scruff of his beard juxtaposed with the softness of his lips as he scattered kisses there.
“Definitely.” Cool air rushed over her neck as he pulled away. He shut the lid over the keys and slid off the bench. The loss of his touch filled her with disappointment, but the promise in his eyes brought about renewed anticipation. With tender care, he tugged her bra back into place and straightened her blouse.
“Come on. Let’s fix something to eat. I’m starved.” He held out his hand to her. Their palms glided against each other with delicious friction.
“Me too,” she said, suddenly starving for more than food.
CHAPTER 23
AFTER A tasty meal of salad and soup, they sat down for a game of chess by the fireplace. The tempo of the clock on the wall kept time to the beat of Elijah’s fingers on his knee. He was always moving, jiggling a leg, drumming his hands, or tapping a rhythm on the table. The guy had more energy than anyone she’d ever known. Their run on the beach had exhausted her, while it had only served to fuel him.
They sat across from each other, a chessboard centered on the table between them. His brow furrowed in concentration as he studied the pieces. One of his long fingers rested on the crown of his queen, His opposite hand continued the incessant tapping on his knee.
“Your rook is unprotected,” Elijah said. “Are you sure you don’t want to rethink that move?”
“Don’t you worry about my rook,” she said with a secretive smile. Her father had taught her as a child, and they’d spent countless hours playing together. It was one of her favorite memories of the high-powered man and gave untold insight into his vast intellect. He’d taught her to play out an opponent’s potential moves in her head. Even now, she saw the telltale signs of victory in her future.
“You’ve got to see at least five moves ahead,” her father had said. “And you need to think about the consequences of each action.” Sage advice for both chess and life.
Elijah scanned the board. Cunning gleamed in his eyes. Lauren sucked her lower lip between her teeth. There was nothing more attractive than an intelligent man. He lifted his finger from the queen, flashed a devious smile, and captured her bishop with his knight.
“Crap,” she muttered. “I didn’t see that coming.” On the outside she assumed a worried frown but smiled on the inside. He was playing right into her plan. As valuable as her bishop might be, sometimes you had to sacrifice something of importance to gain something of greater valu
e.
“I am the world’s greatest chess player.” He flexed his biceps, radiating a playful cockiness that took her breath away. His eyes twinkled with mischief.
“Don’t be so sure, mister,” she said. “In some circles I’m known as a chess goddess.”
“Sounds like we need to raise the stakes,” he said. “Would you like to make a little wager?” His gaze darkened and locked onto her mouth. A thrill of sexual anticipation made her heart pound and her mouth go dry. No man had ever looked at her like that—like he wanted to lay her down on the floor and fuck her senseless.
“Bring it, Mr. Cocky Man,” she replied and fought to hold the excitement from her voice. “I’m going to wipe the board with your ass.”
He laughed, a full belly laugh, rich and relaxed. The sound warmed her from the inside out. “That sounds kind of disgusting, but if that’s what you’re into, I’m game.”
She flushed with embarrassment. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant,” he said. He slid his bare foot across the rug beneath the table, centering his knee between her thighs. “Is that your wager?”
“No.” She chewed her lower lip in thought then her eyes lit as they spied the piano in the living room. “If I win, you’ll play another song on the piano.” His hypnotic voice still echoed in her mind.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously? That’s what you want?” She nodded, and he answered with a shrug. “Okay.”
“And what about you?” she asked.
He shifted forward in his chair, his knee sliding along the inside of her thigh until it grazed her panties. One of his hands rested on top of her leg and came to a stop just above her knee. His voice lowered into a sexy rasp she could only describe as sinful. “If I win, you have to say whatever I tell you.”
Ten minutes later, Elijah tipped over her king and shot her a glance that rocketed through her core and straight to her toes. She dragged in a lungful of air and clamped her thighs together at the twinge of excitement between her legs. He stood from his chair and came around the table, eyes blazing with intent. She’d never been so excited about losing.
“What do I have to say?” she asked, her voice shaking with anticipation.
“That I’m the greatest chess player who ever lived.” In a fluid motion, he reached behind his head and dragged his shirt over his head. “That you take my breath away every time I look at you.”
“Oh.” The conviction of his statement brought a rush of embarrassment to her cheeks. She watched his hand brush over his belly then fall to his side, wishing it was her flesh he touched. “I can’t say that.”
Challenge ignited in his expression. “I’ll make you say it.”
“I can’t wait to see you try.”
“Patience, babe.”
The focus of his gaze caressed her face and dipped to her cleavage before returning to her eyes. His fingertips followed the curve of her jaw, slid down the column of her neck, and brushed over her collarbone. One finger traced the strap of her dress then pushed it along the slope of her shoulder. He traced a path across her chest and did the same with the other strap. She shivered.
“I don’t remember this being part of the deal,” she whispered. He withdrew his touch, a frown marring his forehead. “But I’m good with it.”
“Take it off,” he said, his voice deep and rough but strangely tender. Hot blue eyes locked with hers. “And lie down.”
Her gaze flicked to the thick white rug beneath them and back to his face. The desire in his eyes chased away her qualms. She pushed the dress down and let it puddle around her feet before stepping out of it. The bra came next. She tossed it aside, and her nipples tightened in the cool air. His eyes followed her movements. A tentative hand stroked over the fullness of her breast. She closed her eyes and sighed.
“You should be savored,” he said. “Like fine wine.” His touch skimmed down her ribs and stopped at her hip, his voice tickling her ear with each word. In a graceful motion, he kneeled in front of her, entwined his fingers with hers, and tugged her to join him.
The soft fibers of the rug tickled her knees. With deliberate slowness, he brushed his lips over hers and hummed in approval. Bracing a hand on either side of her, he crawled up her body like a predatory lion. One of his arms hooked around her waist and lowered her to the floor. Seconds ticked past, each one stretching out like an eternity.
Staring into his eyes, she felt herself slipping a little further into their depths. Every stroke of his fingers, every brush of his thigh against hers, chipped away at her defenses. Nothing existed beyond his touch. They might have secrets between them, but they also had this. An intangible something that drew them together, defying explanation and requiring none.
“I want you,” he said, his voice an earthy growl.
“Then take me, Elijah.”
Promise lit his face and stole her breath away. She arched her back and dug her fingers into the plush rug. Elijah guided her legs to his shoulders and cupped her bottom in his hands. With his head buried between her thighs, he brushed lips and tongue over her most sensitive places. Outside the house, the waves crashed against the rocks, and rain pelted the windows. Inside, the fire crackled, and her moans blended with the distant rumble of thunder.
“Say it,” Elijah said. His words vibrated against her flesh. Now he meant for her to pay up.
“No.” She wanted to say it. It was only a matter of time before he forced it out of her, but she enjoyed baiting him almost as much as he enjoyed being baited.
One of his long, beautiful fingers slipped inside her and curled up, stroking and teasing. Her legs trembled. “Too much?” he asked. “Or not enough?”
“Too much,” she gasped. “Not enough. More.”
“Say it now,” he warned.
“I can’t,” she gasped. The tremors of impending orgasm shook her hips. She bucked against his hand.
“There you go with that word again,” he said, exasperated.
“I’m going to come, Elijah.”
The pressure eased. He slowed his pace. “Nope. Not until you say it.”
“I’m the best chess player who ever lived,” she managed to gasp.
His throaty laugh rewarded her insubordination. “You’re the most stubborn girl I’ve ever met.” He added a second finger to the first and fluttered them inside her, adding his tongue to the mix.
Her hands flew to his hair and tangled in the silky locks. “Please. I have to come.” It was all too much. The heady scent of sex, the rough callouses on his fingertips, the scratch of his beard against her thighs. If he didn’t let her come soon, she was going to die on the spot, on his pristine white sheepskin rug, and it would serve him right for the exquisite torture he was inflicting upon her.
“Not until you tell me,” he said, his voice muffled between her legs, but the mirth unmistakable. To drive his point home, he nipped her lightly with his teeth. She answered with a string of profanity. His laughter vibrated through her center. “Wow. Shocking.” She tugged on his hair and growled. He laughed again. “Last chance, Lauren.”
“Elijah Crowe is the best chess player who ever lived,” she panted. He was enjoying this way too much. She was enjoying this way too much.
“And what else?” She felt his smile against her leg. The muscles in her core pulsed.
“And every time I look at him, he forgets to breathe.” The absurdity of the statement might have made her cringe under less intense circumstances. But with Elijah’s mouth on her most intimate of places and his fingers deep inside her, she didn’t give a damn about anything but her own release.
“Good girl. You can come now.” He did something amazing with his thumb and forefinger. Her legs tensed, and shocks of pleasure-pain rocketed through her center. The sweet ache crested, and she floated down on a wave of bliss.
When the last twinges of release had subsided, she managed to pry her eyes open. Her legs were still hooked over Elijah’s shoulders. He sat back on his heels, a s
mug smile on his face. A few seconds passed before she realized she was naked while he still wore all his clothing. Feeling raw and exposed, she made a futile reach for her dress. He saw the trajectory of her gaze and snatched it away before she could grab it.
“Ah-ah-ah,” he scolded, eyes bright with lust and mischief. He tossed the garment onto the sofa, out of her reach, and then surveyed her from head to toe. “This is the best view in the house.”
“How is it that I’m naked and you’ve got all your clothes on?” She tugged on the hem of his shirt. “Take it off.”
“We can fix that,” he said. A full smile curved his lips. He reached behind his head and drew his shirt off.
The flickering firelight illuminated the angles of his face and the fine blond hairs on his chest. Her fingers traced the edge of his tattoos while he unbuckled his belt. She sucked in a tremulous breath, eager for more, afraid it would end too soon.
“I can’t wait to be inside you,” Elijah said.
Someone’s fist thudded on the door. Lauren tensed and tried to sit up. Elijah’s gaze flickered toward the door before he put a hand between her breasts and eased her back to the floor. He shook his head, warning her. The doorbell rang.
“Are you expecting someone?” she asked.
“Just ignore it,” Elijah said. “They’ll go away.”
She held her breath. Silence. The heat of his hands warmed her skin. He cupped her breasts, pushed them higher, then bent to place butterfly kisses along the curve of her belly. The blue of his eyes darkened like the stormy sky outside.
“Are you ready for me?” Elijah slid his jeans over his hips and lowered himself over her.
“Yes,” she whispered. Finally. Finally. Finally. She’d been waiting for this moment since she’d woken up this morning to find him fully clothed and draped around her like a vine.
“Elijah? I know you’re here.”
Footsteps tapped on the marble entry. Elijah rocked back on his knees, profanity falling from his lips. He grabbed her dress from the sofa and tossed it at her. She followed the path of his scowl and found a slender man in an immaculate blue suit staring down at her. She squeaked and scrambled backward like a crab, wrapping the dress around her, reeling with embarrassment.
Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5) Page 83
