Page 24 of Come Around
Pink flushes her cheeks as she turns back to folding a sweater. “It’s a beautiful instrument. Steinway, right?”
“Model B. Had it delivered when I built the house.” I step closer, taking the sweater from her hands and setting it aside. “Stop stalling, Kitten. Play something for me.”
She looks up at me, vulnerability flickering in those green eyes. “I told you before, it’s personal. I don’t usually play for people.”
“I’m not people.” I brush a strand of hair from her face, my voice dropping lower. “I’m yours. Just like you’re mine.”
Something shifts in her expression. The resistance melting away, replaced by a cautious warmth that makes my chest tighten. I’ve been patient, giving her space to come to this moment on her own terms. Now I can see she’s ready.
“One piece,” she concedes.
Victory surges through me. Another barrier falling. Another piece of her surrendering to me.
She moves to the piano with a grace that surprises me, settling on the bench like she belongs there. Her fingers hover over the keys for a moment, a brief hesitation before she takes a deep breath and begins to play.
Holy fuck.
The melody that fills the room is nothing like I expected. Not classical, not pop, but something hauntingly original.
Her fingers move with confidence and precision, drawing sounds from the instrument that make the air around us vibrate with emotion. There’s a melancholy to the piece, but also something hopeful, something that rises and builds until my chest feels too tight to contain what’s happening inside me.
I move closer, transfixed by the transformation.
This is a different Sami than the one who serves drinks at The Summit or curls against me in bed at night. This Sami is pure power, pure talent, lost in a world of her own creation.
And she’s fucking magnificent.
Pride surges through me, possessive and fierce. This remarkable, gifted woman is mine. This talent, this passion, this raw creative force. No one else gets to see her like this, vulnerable and powerful at the same time. Just me.
The music swells, her body swaying slightly with the intensity of it. I can almost see the scenes she’s scoring in her mind—the emotional arcs, the visual cues. She wasn’t lying about her dreams. She has the talent to make them real. And I have the connections to make it happen.
Lane is going to lose his mind when he hears her play.
The piece builds to a crescendo and Sami’s fingers dance across the keys with increasing intensity until it resolves in a series of gentle notes that seem to linger in the air even after she lifts her hands.
For a moment, neither of us moves or speaks.
I struggle to find words adequate for what I just witnessed. “Jesus, Sami. That was incredible.”
She turns on the bench to face me, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright. There’s something vulnerable in her expression, like she’s just shown me a piece of her soul and isn’t sure how I’ll respond.
“It’s not finished yet.” Her voice is soft and uncertain. “I’ve been working on it for months. It’s supposed to be for a scene where the main character realizes they’ve found their home after being lost for years.”
The symbolism isn’t lost on me.
I cup her face in my hands, tilting it up to mine. “Play for me whenever you want. This piano is yours now. This house is yours. Everything I have is yours.”
Her eyes darken at my words, pupils dilating with the same need I feel coursing through my veins. She rises from the bench, pressing her body against mine, and I groan at the contact.
“Thank you for listening.” She slides her hands up my chest, rising on her toes to brush her lips against mine. “For understanding what it means to me.”
I deepen the kiss, one hand tangling in her hair to hold her steady as I devour her mouth. She tastes like wine and desire and surrender. My free hand slides down her back to pull her hips flush against mine, letting her feel exactly what she does to me.
Then I growl against her mouth.
“You feel that, Kitten? You see how hard you make me just by existing? By just being you?”
Her breath catches, and I can feel her heart pounding against my chest. I lift her easily, setting her on top of the piano, and step between her thighs. My hands slide under her shirt, finding warm skin that quivers beneath my touch.
