Page 75 of The Gamma's Second Chance

Her pleasure is a picture I want to paint, and her sounds inspire me to write a song just for her. She gives all of herself to me as she comes, holding nothing back, releasing every inhibition.

The last of her euphoria fades, leaving us breathless and clinging to each other, sweat gleaming on our bodies in the silvery moonlight. Her chin lowers, and her eyes meet mine, soft and swirling with desire and her lycan. Her hands slide up the back of my neck, and she kisses me, long and lingering, as my fingers trail up her spine. I lay her on the bed, covering her body with mine and hugging her close, combing through her hair as I embrace her with warmth and affection.

She traces my jaw, watching the path of her fingers, the gold in her eyes more prominent than ever. “Nolan…” She swallows and wets her lips, her chest still heaving and causing her nipples to scrape my torso.

“Yes?” I ask, twirling her hair around my fingers as I prop my head on my other hand.

The determination in her eyes wavers for the briefest of moments. A split second, almost undetectable, but I see it. Then she reaches up to kiss me again, closing her eyes to hide the hesitancy from me and from the world. When she looks at me again, there is a sparkle of mischief dotting the greens and golds of her irises. “I won’t trick you again, Nolie,” she says, her playfulness leaking into her voice and her smile. “I promise.”

I laugh, deep and loud, and shake my head at her, rubbing her bottom lip with my thumb. “I think you enjoyed your punishment too much to keep that promise.”

Her laughter joins with mine, and I press our foreheads together, curling my body around hers. She snuggles into the safe circle of my arms and my chest, and her hands cup my face as she says, “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

I sigh and smile down at her. “I guess we will, Daisy.”

Chapter 27

CASSANDRA

The gentle plucking ofguitar strings fills the house as I descend the stairs from the bedroom. I pause on the bottom step, hand curling around the post of the banister, where I find Nolan in the living room, sitting on the piano bench with the rest of the room—and me—behind him. He has the lid of the pianopropped open. My vase of daisies sits in the corner, out of the way, and the sunlight glitters across the shining surface of the black piano. It reflects into the room, illuminating his skin and the daisies, creating a bubble of happy, sparkling light.

I watch his bare back as he plays his guitar with his chin ducked to see his fingers on the frets. The wings tattooed across his shoulder blades seem to flutter with the rippling movements of his torso as he plays, then pauses to jot chords onto the paper next to him on the piano bench, and then plays again.

A soft smile spreads across my face as I watch him, inching forward into the room on tiptoe. He doesn’t flinch or register my presence, too engrossed in his instrument and the simple tune he’s composing. My hand glides along the smooth surface of the piano, stopping and resting right above the keys as I pause and continue to stare at him in his quiet reverie.

He’s softer like this. Gentler. Still stoic and reticent but also at peace with himself and the world.

I slip between the bench and the piano, sweeping the skirt of my mauve dress off the surface as I sit beside him, playing a simple chord on the keys that harmonizes with the chords he plays on his guitar.

He lifts his eyes to mine, and they light up, glittering in the sunlight like two unique gemstones. “Don’t stop,” I say, lifting my hands from the keys and nodding at his guitar as he leans forward and sets it back on the stand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s fine,” he says, cupping my cheek and kissing my forehead. “It’s just a song I’m working on. I’m trying to get the pieces of it down when they pop into my head.”

I nod and tap out a scale on the keys with one hand. “I know how that is. I’ve even gotten out of bed in the middle of the night to work out a melody I randomly thought of just before falling asleep.”

“Your mother loved that, I’m sure.”

I laugh. “If by loved it you mean hated it, then yes.”

He swings one leg over the bench and smiles at me, playing the opening section of the higher notes of “Heart and Soul.” He pauses and nods at my hands, waiting for me to play the lower melody line.

I sigh and shake my head but begin the song for him, laughing as he bobs his head to the beat I keep as I play, jumping in with his part almost a hair too late.

“I’m a little rusty on this one,” he says over our duet.

“I can tell!”

He laughs with me, and we finish the song. I lean back against his chest as he wraps his arms around my shoulders, burying his nose in the top of my hair. “I’ve been wondering if you played,” I say, looking up at him from my cozy spot in his arms.

“I do. Not as well as you, but I do.”

I stare at the piano again, trailing my fingers over the black and white keys. “I thought you were mad at me that day.”

“When you played ‘Un Sospiro’?” I nod and bring my hand back to our embrace, stroking his forearm. “I was a little mad at first because you touched my piano without my permission. But once I heard and saw you playing, I wasn’t. How could I be? Everything about it was beautiful—ethereal.”

“Then why were you so tense?” I ask.

“I was holding myself back.” He trails his nose down my cheek, inhaling along the way.

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