Chase swallowed hard, attempting to get control over his voice. “It’s an eight count,” he said softly. “You’re gonna play on the ones.”
“Okay,” she whispered, her eyes locked on his.
Reluctantly he pulled his eyes from hers and looked down at their hands. “If you start with your hand on mine, I’ll help you,” he said.
Andie slid her hand over the top of Chase’s, aligning their fingers again. “Okay,” she breathed, and Chase felt the heat in his stomach spread up into his chest and out through his extremities.
He took a small breath as he brought his right hand to the keys, positioning his fingers and playing the opening notes. He kept his eyes on her hand over his, their fingers twined together as she followed his lead, pressing her fingers over his when she felt him play the notes. His right hand glided effortlessly over the keys, dancing over the smooth surface, and in his mind, it was her skin at his fingertips; he caressed it over and over with light, fleeting touches that made the air around them sing.
She inclined her head toward him, and his breath caught in his throat.
“Chase,” she whispered.
His fingers stilled on the keys and he closed his eyes. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.
“Can you play for me?” she asked softly, carefully sliding her hand off of his. He felt her shift on the bench next to him, bringing her body impossibly closer, and he kept his eyes closed, trying to focus on the feel of the keys beneath his fingers, the ticking of the clock in the corner, anything but the woman next to him, the smell of her, the heat of her.
He swallowed as he repositioned his left hand, and slowly, he began to play. Within a few notes, all of his pent-up emotion had worked its way through his fingertips, and suddenly the notes were everywhere, filling the room and swirling around them, pulling at him and pushing him, drowning him in the moment, and he didn’t think he’d ever want to resurface.
He felt Andie move beside him, and without warning, the length of her thigh was pressed up against his, any measure of space between them now completely forsaken.
His instincts took over momentarily, and he pressed his leg against hers, stifling a groan when he heard the nearly inaudible gasp that fell from her lips.
Chase set his jaw, his eyes still closed, and began to focus on the lyrics to the song in a desperate attempt to keep his mind rational.
Taffy stuck and tongue tied,
Stutter-shook and uptight,
Pull me out from inside…
I am ready…
There was a slight movement beside him again, and this time as she exhaled, he could feel her breath on his neck. He made a tiny noise in the back of his throat as he felt the fissures form in his composure, cracking and spreading and meandering through him at an alarming rate.
Chase’s fingers moved with more determination now, the chords ringing out with an intensity that made the air around them hum.
I am covered in skin,
No one gets to come in,
Pull me out from inside…
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding….I am…
“Chase,” she whispered again, her breath fanning warmth across his neck as the tip of her nose grazed the skin there.
His fingers faltered, an incongruous, off-key note clanging through the air, and his hands curled in so that he rested two clenched fists on the keys. The sudden silence echoed through the room, pregnant with impossibility.
“Chase,” she said again, and the longing in her voice disabled the last of his restraint.
He turned toward her quickly and she gasped, followed by a heavy sigh as her hands came to his sides, fisting his shirt and pulling him closer.
“Damn it, Andie,” Chase breathed as he brought his hands to the sides of her face, dropping his forehead to hers. He felt her grip on his shirt loosen, and she slowly ghosted her hands up and down the length of his sides, causing him to shudder.
He could feel her breath coming in tiny bursts, quivering and trembling over his lips, and he slid his hands down the sides of her face, over the pulsing heat of her neck, and along the tops of her shoulders. She sighed softly, and Chase grit his teeth together so hard that he felt pain in his jaw.
It felt like something inside him was burning. Heat coursed and pulsed through every part of him, and with every touch of that perfect, silken skin, the inferno blazed with renewed intensity.
Chase’s heart slammed in his chest as she began to tremble beneath his touch. He knew she was unraveling, and he wasn’t far behind her. He clenched his jaw again, trying to hold on to his last semblance of control.
Andie brought her hands up to Chase’s face, her touch unbelievably perfect, and she lifted her chin ever so slightly, trying to bring her lips to his.
He turned his head, moving his mouth away from hers, but even as he denied her lips the contact, even as he tried to do the right thing, his hands came to her hips, pulling her against him before his arms enveloped her, bringing her body flush with his.
Chase’s eyes rolled back slightly as she buried her face into his neck. “You said stop hiding,” she whispered against his skin, and Chase closed his eyes. “You said to stop playing by the rules. That I should do what I wanted to do.” When she spoke again, her voice trembled. “I’m trying. Why won’t you let me?”
Chase pulled back slightly so he could look in her eyes, and immediately her hands came to the sides of his neck. Their mouths were only centimeters apart; he could feel her breath on his lips, taste it on his tongue.
“I know what I said, Andie,” he murmured. “But I can’t let you do this. I won’t let you be spontaneous this way.” He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing the hair away from her face, their noses touching. “I want you to go after what you want, but not if it’s something that’s going to make you feel guilty. Not if it’s something that will make you disappointed in yourself.”
She pulled back slightly and stared up at him with those eyes, eyes that hid nothing, eyes that were chocolate and caramel and innocence and sex, and he could see the hurt behind them, the doubt he had instilled there with his words, as if she didn’t believe that was the real reason he turned her down.
The hurt in her eyes was the final blow, shattering the last of his self-control.
He took her face in his hands, his eyes locked on hers. “I want you. You have no idea how much. I have wanted you since the second I saw you in that wine cellar.”
She closed her eyes, and he leaned in and touched their noses again. “But not like this. Not when it would be something we’d regret. I won’t do that to you. Or to him. I can’t.”
He heard her make a tiny sound, as if she were trying to contain her emotion.
“Andromeda,” he whispered, and she stilled, her breath catching in her throat.
He lifted his chin then, pressing his lips to her forehead, holding them there for what seemed like forever, as if he would lose a piece of himself once he broke contact with her.
And as he slowly pulled away from her, that’s exactly what it felt like.
He stood from the bench and ran the backs of his fingers down the side of her face before he turned and walked toward the door. A tiny piece of him was hoping she’d stop him, hoping she’d put up a fight, give him an excuse to break the rules.
But the only sound was the door opening and closing, and his footsteps as he walked farther and farther away from the place he wanted to be most.