Page 81 of The Pucking Arrangement

Because this isn’t just playing.

This is possession.

She owns every inch of that cello, bending it to her touch, making it sing for her.

The red silk slips lower on her shoulder as she throws herself into the crescendo.

A slow, blistering burn seeps into my muscles, locking me in place.

This is Erin in her zone.

Powerful. Untouchable.

And I want her so badly I can’t fucking breathe.

Then I notice movement in the wings.

Luka.

Watching her with a hunger that makes my blood turn to ice.

My grip on the railing tightens, my knuckles aching from the pressure.

“Breathe,” Sophie murmurs, amused. “He’s not the guy she has her eye on.”

I barely hear her.

Liam, though—Liam is still looking at me and the way my gaze is glued to her.

“Watch it, man,” he snarls, low and threatening.

I blow out a slow, rough breath, dragging a hand through my hair.

I know.

That’s the fucking problem.

But none of it matters.

Not the fact that her brother is my best friend.

Not the decade between us.

Not the inevitable fallout.

Because I don’t give a fuck.

I’ll claim her anyway.

ERIN

Bach flows through me, each note exactly where it should be. My nerves fade with the first phrase, replaced by that perfect performance high that makes everything sharper and brighter.

I can feel his eyes on me.

Even with the stage lights in my eyes, even with the packed house, I know exactly where Dmitri is. His presence pulls at me like gravity, making my skin buzz, making everything more intense.

The suite builds to its peak, and I let myself get lost in it. Let the music take me places.

---