Page 38 of Crescendo

“Good,” I whispered. “You’re doing wonderfully. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” she breathed, and didn’t I like to hear that?

I guided her through the notes, one after the other, showing her through a melody—a motif she’d enjoyed playing yesterday during our practice session—and after a minute, I letgo of her hands, letting her repeat the melody herself. Shaky. But she was good. A quick study who knew what she was doing, once she got out of her way.

If this helped her get out of her way, I was happy to be of assistance.

I rested my face against the top of her head, gliding my hands slowly up her arms, over her shoulders, and down her sides. I was afraid it would throw her off, but if anything, it emboldened her, made her relax—took her mind off the self-doubt—and her notes came out softer, warmer, smoother. I slipped my hands to her hips, just above the band of her pants, and after a second holding her there like that, I dared to put one finger under her shirt on each side, touching soft skin. She nodded against me, not stopping the music for a second, and I guess no surprise that turned me on. I added one finger at a time up under her shirt until I had my hands on her soft skin, holding the gentle curve of her waist.

And she kept playing. Breathed hard, nodding me on, but she kept going, and if anything, the notes sounded better the further I went. I wondered how long she would keep playing.

I dipped two fingertips under the band of her pants on either side, just the tiniest bit, and she whispered my name, a silent plea. Slowly, I dragged one hand towards the center, feeling over the button of her pants, and of course—of course—that was the timing for the doorbell to ring again.

“Fuck off,” Ella groaned, letting her arm drop, the bow tip touching the floor. I found myself thinking the same thing, but—then again, maybe it was a good thing. Was I not supposed to be doing this?

I needed to talk to a mature adult. I needed to talk to Melinda and have her tell me not to do this with Ella.

I gave Ella’s hips a squeeze before I slid out from behind her, standing up. “Well, we can’t leave them waiting,” I said. “Wemust have stopped checking our phones again and gotten our friends worried.”

“Really, Lydia?” she said, giving me a look somewhere between wanting to kiss me and wanting to murder me.

“Take some break time from practice to let the lessons set in. Remember to keep thinking about what you’ve learned.”

She swallowed, hard, looking away, her blush deepening, a hand over her face. “Ah…”

She’d be thinking plenty about what she’d learned. Such a good student.

Chapter 10

Ella

I had never been so tightly wound in my life.

The cello had somehow made it back to its stand. I assumed I’d done that, but I really was just going through the motions as every bone in my body wanted the interruption not to have happened.

It was foolish and risky, of course. I wasn’t ignorant to the fact that Lydia was only here for two months and I was still… a mess. But I couldn’t deny how she made me feel or how much I wanted her.

And, as if the doorbell wasn’t annoying enough when I’d wanted nothing more than her fingers unbuttoning my trousers and sneaking inside, she walked back inside with… Hannah.

Lydia looked at me like all she wanted to do was throw me back down on that couch and spread my legs again. I probably looked like I wanted her to do exactly that. I did.

Hannah, however, seemed too nervous to even register what she’d walked into, glancing over her shoulder like she thought Eliza might jump out of any given vase in the place.

Lydia smirked at me, knowing exactly what she was doing, before she turned back to Hannah. “So, what can we do for you?”

“Just… between us?” Hannah hedged.

Lydia nodded, intrigued. “Don’t worry, I know how to keep a secret. And, if it’s a secret from Eliza, because clearly it is, well, all the better.”

She wasn’t wrong. Footsie under the table, her hands sliding up my thighs, her fingers on my skin, feeling for the button of my trousers… Lydia knew exactly how to keep a secret.

“Right, well,” Hannah said, sucking in a breath and trying to compose herself. “I have a piece I’ve been working on for a while, just… in private, and I wanted to… see what you think?”

“Ah, I’m surprised you want the opinion of a destitute has-been,” Lydia said, sounding more than a little amused.

Hannah twitched, pulling her shoulders in tighter. “Yeah, well, you’re, you know, a big name. You know how these things work. And, I think you had a good point about the benefit of mine and Eliza’s pieces being different, but she wants… Well, that doesn’t matter. I just wanted an opinion on whether something like this might be… okay…”

Lydia paused, holding the moment for a minute, and all I could think about was wanting to slide my hands up under the sleek, light shirt she was wearing. Even if, under normal circumstances, I’d be happy for Hannah pushing out on her own like this.

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