Wait for night when the air’s hot and there’s madness
I’ll make your blood swim
Wait for night when passion rises like a flood in the
heat dance
Desire pours over the rim

He listened, as he had before, and felt his system respond to the music and the promises that low voice made. He wanted all that the song hinted at. All that, and more.

When Cliff crossed the room, he saw her tense. He thought he could feel the air snap, hissing with the heat the song had fanned. Before he reached her, Maggie turned. The sun at her back shot a nimbus around her. In contrast, her eyes were dark. Like night, he thought. Like her night music. The words she’d written filled the room around them. It seemed those words were enough.

He didn’t speak, but circled the back of her neck with his hand. She didn’t speak, but resisted, forcing her body to stiffen. There was anger in her eyes now, as much for herself as for him. She’d taken herself to this point by allowing her own needs and fantasies to clear the path. It wasn’t madness she wanted, Maggie told herself as she drew back. It was stability. It wasn’t the wild she sought, but serenity. He wouldn’t offer those things.

His fingers only tightened as she pulled back. That surprised them both. He’d forgotten the rules of a civilized seduction, just as he’d forgotten he’d only come there to see how she was. The music, the words, made the vulnerability that had concerned him a thing of the past. Now he felt strength as his fingers pressed into her skin. He saw challenge in her stance, and a dare, mixed with the fury in her eyes. Cliff wanted nothing less from her.

He stepped closer. When she lifted a hand in protest, he took her wrist. The pulse throbbed under his hand as intensely as the music throbbed on the air. Their eyes met, clashed, passion against passion. In one move, he pulled her against him and took her mouth.

She saw the vivid colors and lights she’d once imagined. She tasted the flavor of urgent desire. As her arms pulled him yet closer to her, Maggie heard her own moan of shuddering pleasure. The world was suddenly honed down to an instant, and the instant went on and on.

Had she been waiting for this? This mindless, melting pleasure? Were these sensations, these emotions, what she’d poured out into music for so long? She could find no answers, only more needs.

He’d stopped thinking. In some small portion of his brain, Cliff knew he’d lost the capacity to reason. She made him feel, outrageously, so that there was no room for intellect. His hands sought her, skimming under her shirt to find the soft, heated skin he knew he’d dreamed about. She strained against him, offering more. Against his mouth, he felt her lips form his name. Something wild burst inside him.