Page 85 of Crescendo

I smiled broadly at Hannah. “Let’s do Indian. I could go for some spicy dal and naan.”

Once Hannah and Dodge had left the room chattering, Ella turned to me with a blush thick on her cheeks, smiling wryly.

“You don’t seem too shy about people knowing what we’re doing, all of a sudden, do you?”

I stood up from the piano bench, walking over to her and pulling the cello away from her, propping it up against the wall and taking its place between her legs, my hand on her cheek, angling her to look up at me. “Hannah already knew,” I said. “Natália blabbed a little too loud. And Dodge had a strong suspicion and was already going around telling people it was a thing anyway, even without knowing, so nothing’s going to change from him knowing. Besides… no, I’m not too shy. I like people looking at us and knowing you’re my girl.”

She swallowed, pupils dilating a little. “Lydia…”

“You did so well just now,” I whispered, caressing my thumb over her cheek. “It’s actually unbelievable how fast you’re learning. And it’s unbelievable how attractive that is.”

She looked away, that cute little huff there on her features again. “Oh, and you’re not… what, ten times the… competency porn?”

I laughed, getting a little bolder, brushing my thumb over her lower lip. “Is that what we’re calling me?” I said playfully. “Because I don’t mind it.”

“It’s—that didn’t come out quite right. I’m not reducing you to porn,” she laughed. I took her chin between my forefinger and thumb.

“I don’t know, I see it,” I said. “Porn’s there to help you get off. I’m here to help you get off.”

She blushed down to her neck, swallowing hard. “Lydia, we’re—we’re in a practice room. At Crescendo. Inpublic.”

“The door locks.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

I raised my eyebrows, looking back at the door and at her again. “No, it does lock. I just checked.”

“We don’t know when they’ll be back—”

“Hannah said she’ll text us once they’re coming back. You weren’t paying total attention, were you?”

She flushed brighter. “No, of course I wasn’t,” she muttered. “I was looking at you.”

“I love hearing you play,” I said, taking her by the hand and pulling her up to her feet, tugging her against my front and kissing, softly, sweetly, against her lips. “I knew you’d be good for my inspiration once I finally got to hear you play from the heart.”

“And that’s… the only reason you stuck around, I assume.”

“Mm. Indeed. Well, that and the small detail that I find everything about you utterly captivating, but you know, that part goes without saying.” I kissed her quickly again before I sat down on the piano bench, scooching it back and pulling Ella towards me. “Come play. I can’t get enough of hearing you.”

She went to sit on the bench next to me, and I caught her with my hands on her hips, moving her towards me and spreading my legs, guiding her to sit between them. She made a small noise in her throat, pressing her back up against my front. “Lydia, I swear to god, you are not going to tease me while I play piano.”

“I’m not going to tease you,” I laughed, slipping my hands to the front of her waist, and I dropped my voice to a whisper, slipping closer until my lips brushed the shell of her ear. “I’m going to give you everything you want.”

“Oh my god.Here?”

“We’ll call it practice. Help make sure you don’t overthink while you play.” I slipped my hands up inside her shirt, brushing fingertips just above the band of her pants, and she arched her back against me with a small, whimpered noise in her throat. “Don’t stop playing, or I will, too.”

“We cannot do this right now,” she whispered, but her hands seemed to disagree—settled over the piano and spilled outa tinkling melody in the upper register before settling in on long, full chords on the lower register. I slipped my hands up higher, savoring every touch of her soft, perfect skin.

“If you want me to stop, all you have to do is stop playing,” I breathed. She pressed her lips together with a soft moan, shaky fingers playing notes that started out soft and quiet. Heat built higher in my thighs at how she didn’t even pause, still playing like there was no doubt in her mind. “That’s it,” I whispered, hands reaching higher inside her shirt, cupping over her bra, feeling the shape of her breasts filling my hands. “You’re doing beautifully, darling.”

“Lydia,” she moaned, softly, lolling her head to one side. I kissed along the exposed lines of her neck, slipping my hands up inside her bra, feeling her nipples stiffening under my fingers. She twitched on the keyboard, playing a sour note, and with shaky hands, kept going like nothing had happened. Normally she’d stop and fuss over it if she played something wrong. I guess this was good for her music. What do you know?

“Tell me what to do,” I whispered. “With the music.”

She took the prompt—small, teasing rhythms, high and soft melodies as I lavished small, teasing rhythms with my fingers over her nipples, peppering soft kisses on the side of her neck, and when she stifled a groan into her lips and expanded the melody outwards, playing bigger, fuller sound, I slipped my hands down to the band of her pants, undoing the button and tugging her zipper down halfway, just enough to work my hand down inside.

She gasped when my fingers met the front of her underwear, hot and already slightly damp, fumbling on the keyboard but playing through it, clearly caring less about playing the right notes—a bit haphazard, but it wasdeliciousgetting to hear the representation of her losing control, of her losing her mind to this.

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