Page 44 of A Love Song for Dreamers

He builds me up with that simple touch. I’m panting by the time he pullsback.

“You know what you want. Sayit.”

God, he’s sexy. All of it makes me stronger,bolder.

“I want your filthy mouth onme.”

His chuckle is half groan. “That makes two of us. Take off everything except your thong. Kneel on the bench and brace your elbows on thepiano.”

There’s a hint of something earnest under the command, something that reminds me of last night—how good it felt to be close to him, how he might have something at stake here,too.

It’s enough that I don’t argue as I shimmy out of the rest of my clothes and his hungry gaze drags over mybody.

My nipples are hard buds, and I’ve soaked through the last remaining item of clothing as I lean over the dark wood, my forearms resting on the coolsurface.

Tyler palms my ass. “The show you saw in London. Tell me you fucked yourself to sleep after and wished it wasme.”

He presses a thick finger inside me and I fall forward, my eyes squeezing shut. Emotions clash in my chest, but I don’t want to lie to him. “Yes.”

Instead of continuing, he pulls out and plants a kiss on my bareshoulder.

This was a badidea.

The tension inside me is stronger, bigger, tighter. He’s making it worse, notbetter.

If I ever questioned what happened to the quiet, repressed teenage boy Iloved…

He turned into a man. One who won’t bedenied.

Tyler’s fingers comb through my hair. “Wider.”

My knees ache from the hard surface but I force them apart another inch. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Tell me something. Are you young and naive?” heasks.

I look over my shoulder to meet his gaze. It’s hot and hungry and steals mybreath.

“No.”

I drop my forehead back to the piano andwait.

Tyler drops kisses down my skin, soft but deliberate, one after another. “No, you’re fuckingnot.”

He spreads my ass and doesn’t hesitate, not even there, until finally, his lips press where I’m hot and wet and aching forhim.

“Oh shit, Tyler,” Imoan.

His scarred hand covers my mouth the next instant. It’s all I can do to keep from crying out as his mouth settles between my thighs and he devoursme.

Yes.

It might be his mouth on me, but we’re equals in giving, in taking. The energy flows between us, tension and relief. We’re two musicians improvising together, inspired by one another’s actions andreactions.

Nothing in the last two years has felt likethis.

Nothing haseverfelt likethis.

My back arches hard, the pressure between the hand on my mouth and his lips where I’m wet and aching forcing me to coil like a tight, needyspring.

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