Nocturne

by Andrea Randall

  “I always strive to improve.”

  “To what end?”

  “Mastery.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “You amaze and appall me at the same time.”

  I found myself grinning. “In that, Savannah, the feeling is completely mutual.”

  Her eyes widened. They were dark eyes, but beautiful. Her voice breathy as she spoke the next words. “I amaze you?”

  “You do. You’re … erratic. Dynamic. Incredibly talented. Brilliant. There were days in my class where I wanted to shake you.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Shake me?”

  “In … frustration. In …”

  I found myself floundering. I’m only articulate with bow and cello in hand. What I wanted to say was ... that I wanted to touch her. That I wanted to hold her, just like this. That I wanted to look in her eyes and see admiration. Affection.

  “Savannah...” my voice trailed off. Our lips were so close, I would only have to move a fraction, a few bare centimeters, and they would have touched.

  “Gregory?” When she replied, her voice sounded small, shaky. She sounded almost as confused as I felt.

  What I really wanted to do at that moment was lean in. Closer. Her eyes seemed huge as I took a deep breath and considered my options.

  And that’s when I realized the song had ended, and a new one started. A loud, raucous pop song, and dancers were moving onto the floor around us. The change broke the mood, suddenly, and she stepped back, away from me.

  She had a wounded look in her eyes as she said, “I have to go to the ladies’ room. Um ... I’ll be … I’ll be back.” She backed away from me, stumbling a little, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

  I stood in the middle of the dance floor, my breath slowing, feeling bereft, and an unfamiliar ache in my chest.

  That’s when I heard an all too familiar voice. “Gregory!”

  I turned around and felt my face slip into a mask. Karin stood on the edge of the dance floor. Where had she come from? What was she doing here? Mechanically, my limbs almost numb, I moved toward her.

  “Karin, what are you doing here?”

  She gave me a piercing look. “I came to see you. This is the last night for the Institute, right? You told me weeks ago all the instructors blew off some steam tonight.”

  I swallowed. Indeed, I had told her that. I’d mentioned it in passing quite a long time ago, but I hadn’t exactly intended it as an invitation. Nor had we really spoken since she’d given me her … not exactly an ultimatum ... back in the spring.

  “Anyway,” she said, “I came here hoping to find you, but it seems you’ve found Savannah Marshall.”

  I shook my head slightly. Nothing was going on with Savannah. If I repeated that enough times, the reason why might resurface in my conscience. I swallowed.

  “Just dancing,” I said. The words seemed to stick in my throat. Because they were a lie. That was much more than merely dancing. I could still feel Savannah’s body against mine.

  “Can we talk then?” Karin asked.

  I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t really want to talk. Not to her. Not now.

  As I looked over my shoulder to the restrooms, I saw Savannah move past the bar. She was in a hurry for the front door, it seemed. Her back was rigid, her steps furious.

  “Karin,” I said. “Perhaps later ...”

  Then I stopped talking. I stopped breathing. I stopped thinking, because the pain was too much. At the door, Savannah looked over her shoulder. Her eyes fell on me, and on Karin, at the edge of the dance floor. Her face held an indescribable expression, one I’d do anything to capture in a song, but also one I’d do anything to erase. The bleak turmoil in her eyes speared my chest like a blade.

  Her eyes swept away from me.

  Then, she was gone.

  Gregory

  My eyelids were heavy and felt as though they were lined with sandpaper. The tension I felt seared through my chest and shoulders. I’d been up for hours. Not voluntarily. Once I’d finally seen a disappointed Karin off, I’d returned to the house only to lie awake, staring at the ceiling. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw a hurt and distressed Savannah hurrying for the door of the bar.

  I’d almost kissed her. Almost. We’d been so close to each other, and instead of an intrusion, she’d felt … at home there.

  I wanted her, and she ran.

  I finally drifted off to a restless, unsatisfying sleep at midnight, but then my eyes snapped open again, and fell on the clock, only to see that it was merely 2:30 a.m. I rolled over, unable to clear my mind of thoughts of her. Of her lips, of her eyes, my hands on her hips. The music pounding into our bodies as we danced.

  I tried to go back to sleep. But I failed. Which is why I found myself standing in front of Madeline’s house at 3 o’clock in the morning. My head felt cloudy, my thoughts making little sense.

  I knew Savannah was here alone. Madeline and James had returned to his room together, which gave me even more reason to leave the house. They’d have been embarrassed if they’d known I was awake.

  I stood there at the door for possibly five—or a thousand—minutes, my hand hovering over the doorbell.

  Before I could press it, the door opened.

  Savannah stood in the doorway, Her eyes were blurry, red rimmed. I couldn’t tell if I’d woken her or she’d been tossing and turning as I had. She wore a long white t-shirt that fell to her knees, and her blonde hair was tousled. It was all I could do to prevent myself from reaching out and touching it.

  She blinked at me three or four times. Waiting, perhaps, for me to say something.

  “Savannah …”

  Without a word, she grabbed my hands and pulled me into the house.

  She shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m here to see you.”

  Her eyelashes swept down as she looked at the floor. She swallowed, then her face set in a grim expression and she looked back up at me. “Why?”

  Unexpectedly, I found myself shaking. “I had to see you.”

  She shook her head, an infinitesimal movement. “You’re a professor, Gregory.”

  “Does that matter? I’m not your professor.”

  She looked away from me. “It should.”

  I took a deep breath. “I know it should. But it doesn’t. Not to me.”

  “What do you want from me?” She looked right through me as she said the words. The resignation in her tone chilled my core.

  My heart was pounding. What did I want from her? How could I answer that? How could I explain to her what I wanted, when I had no idea myself? I wanted to make love to her. I wanted to make music with her. I thought about that moment when she raised her flute and I touched bow to string for the first time, and we looked at each other across those bare feet of space, and wove our song together. I wanted that again. I’d never experienced that with anyone else. Right there in front of our colleagues, I felt as if I’d performed the most intimate of acts. How could I say that? How could I tell her that I desperately wanted to touch her. That I wanted to kiss those lips. That for the first time in my life I wanted to experience a deep emotional connection with a woman, a connection that transcended everything.

  My mind frantically sought an acceptable and normal response to her question. Without a conscious decision, I spoke. “You’re doing the Assobio a Jato for your senior recital, yes? I’ll practice it with you … perform it with you.”

  Her face looked confused … then disappointed. Her shoulders dropped a fraction as she exhaled, and then she said, “You showed up here at three in the morning for that?”

  I closed my eyes. The tension in my body and throat was worse than any recital or performance, worse than any audition I’d ever performed. It was almost painful to speak. My voice came out strangled, too fast, too much force, too much everything. “I want much more than that, Savannah. But as you said …” I trailed off, not wanting to remind her of her protests.

  Her
eyes watered a little and she blinked, moving inches from my body in one graceful motion. “This isn’t … it isn’t right. For either one of us.”

  “I don’t care.” The words came out in a rush of breath.

  I closed the remaining distance between us. She pressed her palm against my chest, as if to stop me. She leaned her head back, and my eyes fell to her lips. She took a deep breath. The very same spot where her hand had rested when we stood in the rain. Where we kissed.

  “I care,” she whispered. “I can’t do this.” But her hand, which was poised to push me away, curled up, bunching my shirt up into her fist, and she pulled herself toward me.

  “I can’t either,” I said. “We’ll be back at the conservatory in two weeks. It’s too dangerous. You’re too dangerous.”

  Her face paled, and her tone sharpened, but she never released my shirt. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  I closed my eyes. My whole body was tense, the muscles in my shoulders ready for a rehearsal, or a performance … or a war. I opened my eyes and looked in hers. Her brown eyes. So young. So confused. Intense.

  Before I could stop myself or think or do anything that made any sense at all, I spoke.

  “Savannah ...”

  Then I stopped talking. She was so close to me, her slender fist bunched up in my shirt, her eyes huge, her lips so close I couldn’t stop myself from touching them, and I was compelled to know what those lips felt like again.

  “Gregory, I ...”

  Her words were cut off when my lips touched hers, and I felt a wave of euphoria wash over me. This was no slow, gentle kiss. Our mouths opened immediately, and she gripped the back of my neck, pushing us together closer, a low moan like a growl rising from her throat as she pressed her body against mine, hard.

  Savannah

  I gave him as many chances as I could to turn and leave. To come to his senses. I wouldn’t ask anymore, not with the way his tongue danced greedily inside my mouth. Or the feel of his goatee against my skin. Rough. It fired sensations through my body faster than I could keep up with.

  I managed to pry myself away from the kiss. “This way.”

  I led him up the stairs and stumbled on the next to the last. Gregory caught me, and we quickly moved to the guest room that had been my home for the past several weeks, and closed the door.

  My shirt was on the floor and my hands tugged at the bottom of his shirt before the latch clicked into place. Gregory raised his arms overhead, the muscles in his arms bunching as he grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head and the rest of the way off. I pressed my almost-bare chest into his, letting out a small moan at the feeling of his hard muscles against my breasts. His hands moved from my lower back to the clasp of my bra, where he fumbled for a moment before successfully freeing it. And me.

  “Jesus.” His lips stayed parted as I backed away to slide the black lace barrier off my shoulders.

  In here, there was no sign of the passionless music theory professor. This was the man who closed his eyes and swayed as he coaxed adoration from his cello, the man whose eyes froze me in place every time he looked at me, the man who returned my kiss in the rain and made my heart crave completeness I didn’t even know I was missing. He was quite still, but the hard lines around his eyes and mouth morphed from tension to reverence as I set my hands on his hips and stepped back into his hold.

  His head bowed just a bit, as though he wanted to kiss me. Before he reached my lips, I tilted my head to the side and kissed his chest, moving my lips slowly across his scorching bare skin until my tongue centered on his nipple. Gregory sucked in a loud, fast breath through his teeth as my tongue worked him over. Teasing. Testing.

  “Come here.” His growl made me weak, and I looked up to find his eyes alive with purpose. He grabbed my face and kissed me again, hard, and I was suddenly aware that I was the only one completely naked. I had no recollection as to when I’d discarded my panties, but now wasn’t the time to wonder about their whereabouts.

  As our mouths and tongues hungrily explored each other, I deftly undid his belt with one hand as my other tugged at his hair. Each time I tugged, he gripped my hips harder. The blurred lines between pain and pleasure swirled around me, and all I knew was I wanted more of him. Now. As his pants fell to his ankles, Gregory kicked off his shoes and stepped out and away from his wrinkled khakis. He stood before me in nothing but his grey boxer briefs and I gaped at his form.

  Immaculate.

  His arms, shoulders, and the tightly bunched muscles of his torso were toned from thousands of hours at the cello, more than I’d ever realized until now. They begged to be touched.

  “Don’t move,” I whispered against his lips. Kissing him once, nibbling on his swollen bottom lip as I pulled away, I moved my hands to the waistband of his last article of closing.

  I squatted slowly as I pulled them down, kneeling in front of him as they settled around his ankles. I led the tips of my fingers slowly up the sides of his legs, feeling goosebumps pop up as soon as I made contact. He was so ready for me, the ache between my legs made me moan as I knelt before him. I let one hand reach his hip as I slowly circled the other around him. His hips twitched as my mouth inched closer.

  “Savannah.” He said my name inside of a ragged breath, stopping me less than an inch away from him.

  I arched my eyebrow as I looked up at him, grinning mockingly. “I said … don’t move.”

  As slowly as I could handle, I wrapped my lips around him, and let my tongue gently follow. Gregory felt for the hand I’d left on his hip and gripped it tightly as I took more of him in. As much as his size would allow before I couldn’t take anymore. He groaned in ecstasy, a deep, carnal sound that made me echo with my own delighted sound.

  I couldn’t take it anymore.

  I pulled away, kissing from his hips up to his mouth, where he earnestly welcomed me in. I took one, two steps forward and as the backs of his legs bumped up against my mattress, he sat, his hands on my hips as my fingernails dug into his shoulders.

  “Lie back,” I commanded, not breaking his fiery gaze.

  “Are you … do you …”

  I nodded. “Pill.” As he scooted up the bed, I climbed over his body, straddling his narrow hips.

  “God …” As reticent as he was in the classroom, he seemed more at a loss for words as I leaned over him and bit his collarbone. That elicited another incoherent noise from the depths of his want.

  I pulled back a little, raising myself up enough to slide onto him. I went slowly, tossing my head back and wincing before sighing in blissful relief as he filled every part of me. Once I settled all the way onto him I paused for a moment and looked at him. I was almost startled to find him staring right back at me, eyes calm as his chest rose and fell erratically.

  I rocked forward and back, slowly at first, as we adjusted to each other. Our eyes never once strayed, as my movements got faster … harder. Soon, the intensity of his hands guiding my hips up and down became so much that I had to close my eyes, crying out with each hard thrust.

  Leaning forward slightly, I clenched the sheets as I kissed him. This new angle of our bodies caused me to shake in anticipation of the orgasm it would bring. I worked faster, digging my knees into the bed as I pushed on him harder, making him go deeper inside me than anyone had been before. Warmth circled my insides and I knew it was only a matter of seconds.

  Pressure building inside of me, I pressed my forehead into his shoulder and screamed his name as my knees went weak and the orgasm took over. Every muscle from my waist down seized around him, releasing and tightening four, five, six times as he continued to relentlessly push against me.

  “God … Savannah!”

  “Don’t stop!” I cried out, despite having nothing left to give.

  “Roll over.” Abruptly serious through unsteady breaths, Gregory moved his hands from my hips to my shoulders.

  I still felt the heat from his hands on my hips as I carefully slid off him
. My insides remained on fire as I settled onto my back, anticipating his next move. The only warning I had was a flicker of desperate mischief in his eyes before he plunged into me.

  “Shit!” I gripped the backs of his legs, bracing myself.

  “Look at me,” he ordered as sweat trickled down his neck and chest.

  My eyes were closed tight, bracing my body for the onslaught of his. It felt so good I didn’t want to stop. I didn’t want to break this moment.

  “Look at me.” A demanding rumble came from his throat.

  He started working faster, his movements becoming more syncopated. As instructed, I opened my eyes. His eyes met me expectantly, waiting for me to obey him. When I did, he threw his head back and let out an animal howl, pulsing hard as he warmed me. Filled me.

  Our slick skin glided across each other as he lay down on top of me. I felt his pulse against my breast and my inner thigh as we both lay in a ragged heap across my bed. I was dizzy as his mouth found my nipple and his tongue turned in lazy circles around it.

  Once I regained most of my senses, I dragged my hands through his damp hair, lifting his face from my chest. It was there again. The calm. Like a quiet lake lapping onto a lonely shore, Gregory’s eyes caused me to catch my breath.

  “What?” he asked, kissing the side of my breast before resting his chin there. A contented smile worked its way tentatively across his lips.

  It had been happening before that moment. Feelings set in motion before I’d taken my first exam in his class, and certainly well before our first kiss. But there, with Gregory lying on top of me as he smoothed my hair away from my face, I knew.

  I loved him and there was no turning back.

  Ever.

  No matter what.

  It was a few minutes past 4:00 a.m. when we’d fallen asleep, legs wrapped around each other and my head on his chest. Dawn didn’t wait for us to be ready; it came on schedule and poured harsh light into my bedroom. I shifted, rubbing my cheek against his chest as I savored the sensation of his skin against mine.