The Sound of Temptation: A Standalone Second Chance Forbidden Romance, page 3
The sound of the piano shakes me out of my daydream. I haven’t heard that instrument’s music in such a long time and my heart leaps with happiness. I soak in the strains of the familiar melody he’s repeating. I'm still trying to place it when his voice rises to join it.
It’s the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard; A clear, rich tenor that sends a rash of gooseflesh over my entire body. And he’s singing a song I’ve always loved. “The First Time, Ever I saw your Face,” by Roberta Flack. But like I've never heard it. I know, right away, this is something special.
What in the world is talent like that doing here? I make my way downstairs as quickly as my ankle will take me.
The music stops before I reach the back of the house where the piano sits and when I open the door, he’s standing in the dark, staring out at the lake. He doesn’t turn around when I walk in, and I don’t blame him. I move to stand beside him. The rain has stopped, and the clouds have parted to reveal a full, low moon that casts a pearlescent light onto the water.
“This view is magical, isn’t it?”
He nods. “Hell yeah. It is. And who’d know there’s a crowded lake just on the other side? This is all your aunt's?”
“Yup.”
“Is she here, too?”
“No. She spends her summers in France. So, the house is empty and it’s just me.” A day ago, I was sad about that. It's incredible how quickly life can change.
He puts a hand on my shoulder. “Can I have that dance now?”
I laugh and shake my head. “There’s no music.”
“There’s always music,” he drawls.
“May I?” He holds his hand out to me and waits for me to take it.
What felt like a silly idea two seconds ago, now feels imperative. If it’ll gets us back to what we were doing in my bedroom faster, even better.
I nod.
He closes the small distance between us with one long stride, and I close my eyes. He slips his hand around my waist, the slide of it against the thin fabric of my t-shirt.
“Just…like this?” I ask when he starts to sway.
“Just like this.” His breath tickles the hair on my neck as he nuzzles it before he straightens and rests his cheek on my temple. I slide my arms around his broad shoulders and close my eyes.
“I can feel your heart beating against my chest. Can you feel mine?”
I focus my scattered mind on the places where our bodies are touching, a rhythmic thump in his chest. “Yes, and I can hear it, too.”
“Let’s dance to that, okay?”
“Okay.”
We move around in the dark as if we’ve done this a thousand times. As if to remind me that we haven’t, he says. “I don’t even know your name."
He stops our swaying, and I look up into those green eyes. The soft glow from the remaining daylight casts a shadow that gives his handsome face a delicious edge.
But his eyes are wide and open. His smile is genuine, and there’s this feeling between us…an attraction that sizzles. His body, lean and strong, surrounds me and I feel…safe.
“My name is Elisabeth. You can call me Beth.”
His eyes widen and he grins. “That’s my favorite name in the whole world.”
“Sure, what a coincidence.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m serious, when I was in high school my friends had boners for Beyoncé and Gisele Bündchen, I had pictures of Queen Elizabeth the first on my wall. I mean, what a woman, right?” He closes his eyes in reverence.
“Yes, she was pretty incredible. But also, you’re weird.” A bubble of laughter rises out of my throat
“I like your laugh.”
“I like that you make me laugh,” I’m giddy with whatever is happening, and I stare at his mouth dreamily. “Who are you?”
“Oh, where are my manners, your majesty,” he sketches a bow and looks up at me through his lashes. 'Carter Nixon Bosch, at your service. I’m nineteen years old and I’m a musician.”
I smile, but I can barely breathe. Where did this man come from? I’m completely bewitched.
“He’s so beautiful.”
I slap a hand over my mouth when I realize I spoke the thought aloud. His eyes widen in surprise and then glitter with delight.
“That’s funny because I was just thinking the same thing about you.” His voice is husky and the appreciation in his smile makes my knees weak.
“Thank you. I—” I swallow a lump in my throat and press a palm to my thundering heart.
“You okay?” His brow furrows in concern, and he reaches a hand out toward the bare skin of my shoulder like he’s going to touch me. The skin there prickles like my nerves are reaching out, trying to meet his hand halfway. And when he touches me, my whole body sighs in relief. “I’m much better than okay.”
His hand comes to rest on the nape of my neck, and his fingers sift through my hair as he bites his lip. I sigh, and he takes a step closer.
There’s a delicious heaviness building between my thighs, and my nipples peak against the thin fabric of my t shirt.
His eyes narrow and dart to my lips before coming back to mine. “I want to kiss you, again.”
His voice is full of seduction and mischief, and a million humming birds flutter in my chest at the perfectly wicked smile he’s wearing as he brings his face toward mine. “Can I?”
My lips tingle, and in answer I lift up onto my toes and brush my lips against his. When I pull away, his hand tightens against my waist and heat curls in my belly at the gleam in his eyes as he lowers his head back to mine.
When his soft, warm lips touch mine, my breath catches in my throat, and my eyes flutter closed. His kiss is as light as gossamer and delicious. When he pulls away, I whimper in protest and clasp the back of his neck and pull his mouth back to mine. He chuckles before he covers my lips with his, slips his fingers into my hair and slides his tongue into my mouth.
And holy God, does it feel good. His hands are everywhere, running down my back, cupping my ass, pushing into the hot space between my legs.
Through the cotton gusset of my panties, his fingers are blunt and hard and demanding and so good.
“Tell me what you want.” He groans.
“You,” I gasp.
I want him. The ache that started to bloom the first time I saw him has reached a fevered pitch, and I am so desperate for him to sooth it, I can barely breathe.
“Please,” I groan and grind into his fingers until I feel just a taste of what I know is to come.
He pulls his hand back with a curse and presses his forehead to mine. I keep my eyes closed while I try to catch my breath and still my thundering heart.
“Open your eyes, Clover.”
At the use of that name, they pop open.
“Clover?”
“Yes, the birthmark on your face…surely I’m not the first person to say that. It’s so fucking pretty, and the way this trail of freckles shoots out from it, like a stem of stars.”
I’m too tongue-tied to answer. Yes, everyone noticed. But when my classmates called me Clover it hadn’t been because they thought it was pretty. I run my fingers along the spot on my face I’ve treated like a blemish.
“You were born with your own good luck charm.”
In the beam of light he’s standing under his eyes remind me of the sage leaves that grows in the garden.
I wonder what shade they’ll be in the early morning light. “Will you stay with me tonight?” I ask it before I know I’m going to. Before I have a chance to be embarrassed or try to take it back, He lifts my hand in his to his lips.
I hold my breath as he trails kisses up my arm and nips the tender skin in the crook of my arm. He looks up at me through his thick lashes. “Well now that I’ve kissed a girl with the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, I’m dying to see how the rest of her tastes. So yes, Beth, I’ll stay the night.”
I flush at the wicked, carnal smile that lifts his soft lips. “I’ve never…done more than this,” I confess.
His eyebrows shoot up and a huge grin lights up his face. “Well, lucky me.” A piece of my heart springs open and light and warmth flood my chest because I can tell he really thinks he’s lucky. He’s looking at me like I’m magic.
“Can we go back upstairs?” he asks, and I’m powerless to do anything but nod.
Carter
Meant To Be
Three months later
I live by the motto, Tell the truth and shame the devil. But as I make my way up the stairs to Beth’s house, I know that even though I haven’t lied to her outright, I’ve certainly done so by omission. And, that if I could have kept it from her, I wouldn’t have told her.
But, my hand has been forced and I owe her honesty. I’m hoping she’ll understand and forgive me.
I let myself into the house and follow the thrum of music to the studio.
I normally race down this corridor but today, unfamiliar uncertainty and doubt roil in my gut, and I take my time and think about what I’m going to say.
The disarming unpredictability that makes her so exciting worked to my disadvantage when I tried to anticipate how this conversation is going to play out.
But, this whole summer has been a surprise.
After a year of nearly incessant travel, no privacy, and constant scrutiny, I was desperate to be alone. So, I talked them into letting me come down to the lake house my father owns, but never uses, intent on shutting out the rest of the world.
Then, I met Beth.
At best, I thought, she’d be one last summer fling before my whole life changes. But I wasn’t prepared for the compelling, heart pounding reality of Beth Mortimer.
The unbridled whimsy and unfettered joy that punctuates everything she does has been like taking a high-pressure wash to the grime left on my soul by the cynical, contrived, and carefully managed life I’ve lived for the past couple of years.
My armor of shallow charm, dry wit, and calculated seduction was no match for the promise of adventure and understanding that lived in her lavishly expressive, man-slaying eyes.
She saw through my façade and gave me what I needed —acceptance, understanding, and excitement. She has been so many things to me this summer—antagonist, muse, lover, cheerleader.
After three months of letting my guard down in a way I never have before, she knows me better than anyone ever has. And what I know about her made me feel like I knew her just as well.
Roberta Flack is her favorite singer. Blue is her favorite color. Her first heartbreak was at age six—same as mine—when her dog Teddy got hit by a car and died. She likes her eggs fried so hard they’re crispy, and she can’t drink anything but piping hot water in the morning. I know that the inside of her right knee is ticklish and sucking her nipples is enough to make her come. What more did I need to know about a person?
It was’t until this morning when she met my family for the first time, that the bubble of stolen time, burst.
When she left, my parents asked questions that I couldn't answer. I had’t bothered to learn any of the fundamentals. I don’t know when her birthday is. Why she’s spending the entire summer alone at her aunt’s lake house. Where her parents are. Why the brother she speaks of so fondly never calls her. But before I ask her anything, I have to come clean about the life I put on pause when I left New York. I take a deep breath and open the door slowly, just wide enough to let me stick my head inside. She’s singing, “All Cried Out” by Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam, at the top of her lungs.
She can’t carry a tune to save her life, but she puts as much unbridled passion into it as she does everything else. I lean against the door frame and take her in.
If I was’t so rooted in this moment, the awestruck adoration that leaves me lost for words could be mistaken for déjà vu. I felt the same way the first time I saw her nearly three months ago. But the feeling is as real now as it was then, and as it has been.
Oblivious to her audience, she sashays over to her supply cabinet and bends over to rifle around one of the lower shelves. It only takes three shakes of what is, without a doubt, the sweetest ass I’ve laid eyes on in my nearly twenty years on earth for me to almost forget the problematic thoughts that have plagued me for most of the day.
Almost. I step into the room and close the door with a firm thud.
She yelps in surprise and spins around. Then her eyes, those twin pools paradise blue, widen. She smiles like seeing me is the best thing to ever happen to her.
The day’s dying light makes a final show of its prowess and illuminates the face that’s launched countless songs in my heart.
“Oh my God, I thought you’d never get here,” she drops the arm load of paint bottles onto the table and runs toward me, locomotive of my wildest dreams. When she launches herself at me, I open my arms to catch her.
She’s a tiny thing, but I stumble a few steps when she makes impact.
She hooks her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck, and hugs me close so that our bodies are pressed tightly together. I wrap my arms around her, pulling her even closer and breathe her in. She’s been wearing the same sunflower scented lotion since I met her, and the smell of it is attached to so many memories and emotions. It calls to mind cloudless bright blue skies, endless days of warm sunshine, breath stealing, boundary pushing adventures and of raw soul deep beauty—I’ve fallen deeply in love with all those things over the last three months.
But if I hadn’t fallen in love with Beth first, I might not have found these other great new loves of mine. And all the songs I’ve written this summer, songs I know will be hits, are about this amazing woman.
Even knowing who my family is hasn't changed the way she treats me. Everything between us so easy, perfect, and is going to be really hard to leave behind.
I trail kisses down her face and part my lips in the crook of her neck and run my tongue over the salty, sweet skin.
“That feels so good. I’m glad you’re in the mood, because I’ve been really turned on ever since I read a blog post on The Huffington Post that called you a rock god. I hate that women all over the world are obsessed with you, too. But also, I love that for now, I have you all to myself’” she drawls before she skims a kiss across my cheek.
I cringe. “It’s embarrassing. I mean, Lenny Kravtiz is a rock god. I just got lucky.”
“No, you didn’t. You’re fucking amazing. I don’t understand why you’re not the lead singer. But you’re amazing behind the drums and every article I’ve read about you says the same thing - a limitless talent. You didn’t get lucky. You earned all of this.”
Her energy is contagious. I came down here worried about being able to live up to the label’s expectations. After three months of pushing my limits and letting inspiration lead the way, I’ve started wondering if they can live up to mine.
“I sure as hell did,” I agree, and we high five and grin at each other.
Her smile is wide and bright with an affection I don’t deserve but covet none the less. I lean forward, an involuntary response to being this close to her too tempting mouth. The greedy devil this summer of hedonism wants one more taste before we walk the rest of this plank.
But I know better… when it comes to Beth there’s no such thing as just a taste. Once I start kissing her, I can’t stop until I’ve had all of her.
I give her ass a hard squeeze and set her on her feet.
I try to keep my expression neutral despite my ballooning trepidation. “I need to tell you something.”
She reaches up to cup my face and silences me with a long, slow kiss. She presses her forehead to mine and closes her eyes. “Everything that’s happened between us has been honest. That’s enough for me. Let’s just leave it there. “
My chest tightens. “Well, it’s not enough for me. I don’t want to leave things here.”
She scans my face, and the ever-present gleam in her eye’s flickers for the first time since I’ve know her. “But first, you need to tell me something that could end it all, right?” The resignation in her voice—as if she’d been expecting me to let her down—shakes my resolve to come clean. Am I about to confirm some hidden doubt she’s had about me?
She purses her lips and raises an impatient brow. “Just tell me.”
Because I know lies like this always catch up with a man, and because after everything she’s given me, the truth is the least she deserves. I take a deep breath and spit it out.
“I have a girlfriend at home. She and I agreed to spend the summer apart. I didn’t tell you when we first met because I thought this was going to be just sex.”
She blinks rapidly like water splashed into her eyes. “Oh…I see.” She turns away from me, but not before the light in her eyes dims completely.
“If I’d known that I wouldn’t have—” Her voice is hollow and distant. She shakes her head as if to clear it and walks over to the window the way she does whenever she’s stuck in the middle of a drawing.
A heavy, uncomfortable silence descends between us. I move to stand beside her and stare out into the garden that’s often played host to our late-night shenanigans.
“Beth, look at me, please.”
And as soon as she does what I asked, I wish I hadn’t. Hurt has fractured the ever-present gleam in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry—”
“Why’d you tell me?” Her voice breaks, and I put an arm around her.
“I wanted to be honest. I’m going back—”
She shoves my arm off and rounds on me, her eyes blazing. “You don’t have to be honest. I knew this would end. Why couldn’t you at least leave me with good memories?”
I cup either side of her jaw and tilt her head up, firming my hold when she tries to yank free. “Did you hear what I said? I don’t want this to end.”
She squints like someone flashed a bright light in her eyes and frowns as she scans my face. “You… don’t?”
I stroke the soft skin in the hollow of her cheek and shake my head. “No way. This thing between us is just getting started. I’m nowhere near ready to say goodbye to you.”
