For the first time since I’ve met him, Ace looks naked with emotion. With each note, I feel more alive.

He’s stunning like this. I wish I had a way to capture this moment, to put it on billboards and magazines. Everyone in the world deserves to know that Alistair Clyde is completely and utterly beautiful.

My eyes begin to water, because there’s something familiar in this tune. I don’t know how to place it, but there is. It’s me. He’s somehow turned me into a song, into a series of notes.

The song starts slow and quiet but there’s a strength hidden, woven through as the song grows more and more intense. Something infinitely tender overlaps with something harsher.

In this song, I hear everything he thinks of me. I’m a dichotomy between quiet and bold, between soft and brave.

When Ace finishes playing, he’s hesitant again, the last few notes soft. He presses one final key before he lets out a breath and sits back on the bench. The moment he turns toward me, a tentative expression on his face, everything collapses inside me.

I lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth without thinking. It takes a moment for my own action to register, and I shift away, heat prickling the back of my neck. The song is pulling such a strong reaction from me, and I don’t know what to do with it.

He blinks at me, lips parted. His shock lasts only a moment before a breathtaking smile breaks across his face. “Karina,” he whispers, my name a gentle caress, before he leans in and presses his lips against mine.

He’s kissing me.

Oh my God, he’s kissing me.

I part my lips and Ace moves closer, kissing me deeper. His mouth is soft, but his teeth are sharp where they catch on my lips, and it’s somehow perfect. One of his hands cups my face, his thumb gently brushing my cheek. My own hands find their way into the dark strands at the back of Ace’s neck and I tenderly card my fingers through them, pressing closer.

I don’t know how long we kiss, but suddenly Ace is laughing into my mouth and I can’t help the giggle that bursts from my own lips.

We pull apart, but his forehead rests against mine and he’s still smiling. “Hi,” he says. “Did you like the song?”

I smile back, closing my eyes. There aren’t enough words to answer his question. “Hi. I did. It was beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

Ace huffs another laugh. He’s close enough that I feel his breath against my face.

I blink my eyes open. “God, you’re ridiculous. Who writes an entire song for someone?”