Chapters (43)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Epilogue
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- Readers Guide
- QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
- About the Author
- What’s next onyour reading list?
She shifted on the edge of the bed when he came back with his instrument, her cheeks flushed. She still looked confused, maybe the tiniest bit hurt. He tucked the reed into his cheek and ran his knuckles from her cheekbone down to her jaw. “I want to make love to you.”
She licked her lips, but he wasn’t imagining the jump in her pulse that beat so openly in her throat.
“I know we need to take it slow. That there are things that might remind you of something bad, when it’s supposed to be nothing but good.” He touched her chin, lifting it enough that he could leave the softest of kisses on her lips. “So listen instead, because music is always pure. Always safe, the way you are with me, okay?”
Her face changed, warmth spreading through the stiffness of her cheeks. “LJ . . .”
He smiled and closed his eyes, because the way she said his name was a whole different kind of music, and it might be he loved it even more than jazz.
He fitted the reed to his saxophone, stood, and lifted it to his lips. He started low, with the barest hint of sound, like fingers whispering up bare legs. A tease with a vow all wrapped up inside of it.
The first note he gave his whole lungs to was the fullest of his life. It vibrated from his chest all the way down to his toes. He’d half planned to start with one of the jazz standards, but that wasn’t what came out. Instead, it was the rush of watching a beautiful stranger riding a beautiful horse. The twinkle of her green eyes the first time he made her smile. The relief after her second panic attack when she crawled into his lap for comfort.
The notes softened, winding low and sweet and slow. When he opened his eyes, she was smiling. Her arms were hugged around her knees as she sat, totally comfortable on his bed, her belly warmed with his food.
The music looped, deepened, as he imagined how it would be the first time she let him take off her clothes. His lids drooped as he played through how it would feel to have her trust, warm along with her skin. Her thighs opening for him, relaxed and easy.
When he opened his eyes this time, they found hers and held as the tide of the music rushed faster, each return swelling to match the desperation of what he felt. How there could never be enough: enough time, enough pleasure. Enough of her.