Page 21 of Whispers in the Quarter

He enters me slowly, both of us savoring the exquisite friction. I gasp at the fullness, at how perfectly we fit together. Jazz stills for a moment, his forehead pressed against mine, our breaths mingling.

“You feel like coming home,” he whispers, and the raw emotion in his voice makes my heart clench.

Then he begins to move, setting a rhythm as smooth and steady as his bass lines. Each thrust builds upon the last, a crescendo of sensation that has me clinging to his shoulders. My nails dig into his back, leaving crescent moons that I hope will linger, a physical reminder of this night.

Jazz’s control is impressive, but I can feel it fraying at the edges. His movements become more urgent, his breathing ragged against my neck. I meet him thrust for thrust, our bodies moving in perfect harmony.

“Sarah,” he groans, and I know he’s close. “Look at me.”

I open my eyes, meeting his intense gaze. The intimacy of it nearly undoes me.

“I want to see you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion. “I want to watch you fall apart in my arms.”

His hand slips between us, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves. The added stimulation pushes me towards the edge once more. I feel my inner muscles clenching around him, my body coiling tight like a spring about to release.

“Jazz,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’m so close...”

“Let go, Melody,” he urges, his hips never faltering in their rhythm. “Sing for me.”

The tension inside me snaps, and I cry out as waves of pleasure crash over me. Jazz follows me over the edge, my name a prayer on his lips as he finds his own release.

We stay tangled together, our heartbeats gradually slowing, our breathing returning to normal. Jazz presses soft kisses to my temple, my cheek, the corner of my mouth. There’s a tenderness to his touch that makes my chest ache.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

I nod, not trusting my voice just yet. The intensity of what we’ve shared has left me feeling raw, exposed in a way I’m not used to.

Jazz seems to understand. He gathers me close, tucking my head under his chin. His fingers trace lazy patterns on my back, soothing and grounding me.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he murmurs. “Just stay with me.”

Later, as we lie tangled in his sheets, Jazz traces patterns on my skin.

“You know,” he says softly, “this doesn’t have to change anything you don’t want it to.”

I prop myself up on an elbow, studying his face in the dim light. “What do you mean?”

His smile is gentle, understanding. “I mean, I’m not asking you to choose, Melody. Between me and the doc. Some songs need more than one instrument to be played right.”

I stare at him, wonder and gratitude flooding my chest. “How are you so... understanding about all this?”

He chuckles, pulling me closer. “Sugar, I’ve spent my life studying harmonies. Sometimes the most beautiful music comes from unexpected combinations.” His fingers trace my spine. “Besides, watching you and the doc together is better than any jazz improvisation I’ve ever seen. All that brilliant chaos recognizing something just as dangerous in you.”

“And where do you fit in this arrangement?” I ask, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“Me?” His smile turns wicked. “I’m the baseline that keeps the melody grounded. The rhythm that gives the chaos structure.” He tilts my chin up, his eyes serious despite his smile. “I’m whatever you need me to be, Melody.”

The sound of his phone buzzing breaks our moment. Jazz reaches for it, his body tensing as he reads the message.

“What is it?” I ask, instantly alert, Sarah/Celeste/Evangeline all snapping back into focus.

Jazz’s eyes meet mine, concern etched in their depths. “Trouble, sugar. Looks like your past is catching up faster than we thought.”

I sit up, pulling the sheet around me. “Tell me.”

“One of my contacts just sent word. There’s a hit out on Celeste Deveraux. Seems someone’s figured out she’s not as dead as they thought.”

My blood runs cold. Grandmother’s warning from earlier echoes in my mind—trust the whispers of your soul.

---