Master Debater

7. Nate

Fingers remaining on the ivory keys, I paused my playing to look at Willa. Our eyes met, and the gleam in her big green eyes caused my anticipation over hearing her sing to evolve into the desire to hear her screaming my name.

I exhaled, though it did nothing to cool the heated blood in my veins, and forced myself to focus on the music. “You said you were rusty, so…”

Harder than necessary and without bothering to use the pedals, I struck the keys, the first few notes of “Heart and Soul” resounding through the air. Many a new piano player, along with those who longed for a party trick, had played the simple song, pretending to be a master musician. My strategy in picking the insultingly easy song was equal parts teasing and gauging. Bonus: the longer I could keep this woman next to me on the piano bench, the better.

One of Willa’s eyebrows shot higher than the other, the haughtiness in the curve insisting she required more of a challenge.

Oh, I’ll give you a challenge. With her thigh pressed against mine, the dirty ideas stacked higher and higher, which was exactly where my fingers longed to go. Instead, I kept them on the keys, spreading them wider in order to form complicated chords that wouldn’t allow for any off-roading trips to explore what kind of panties Willa had on.

“Are you a classical music type of gal?” I chose “Piano Sonata in D Major” by Mozart, more to show off than for her to sing, as it didn’t have lyrics. Mrs. Applebaum, my first piano teacher, did her best to instill a love of the classics.

The smile Willa cast me punched me right in the gut. “I’ve been known to sing opera a time or two—once in my high school play, since, as they put it, ‘I was the only girl big enough to pass as a Viking woman.’”

As hard as she tried to relay it like it was some funny tale, I heard the hurt in her voice and frowned. “That’s some cliché bullshit, and I bet they were just jealous of all those sexy curves you have going on.”

The phfft noise that proceeded her words conveyed her skepticism. “Sure. Let’s go with that.” She reached up and fiddled with her lower lip, which made it impossible to not fixate on the plump softness there—not that I honestly tried. “When I used to show off, I was cocky enough to go with Dolly Parton’s ‘I Will Always Love You.’”

“Big shoes to fill.”

“Dolly’s feet are actually super tiny, so more like big boobs to fill. Although”—Willa glanced down at her chest, and I figured that made it okay for me to do as well—“I do come closer than most.”

She shrugged and looked up, and after a slight delay where I got caught up imagining filling my hands with her breasts, I finally lifted my chin too. The slight slant of her lips and tilt of her head gave me the impression she was surprised.

“I was just, uh, measuring. With my eyes.” I unleashed my most charming grin. “In case you needed a second opinion.”

“Mmmhm,” she said, her widening smile lighting up her entire face, even as her posture turned bashful. “Anyway, that song requires a full warmup, and who has time for that?”

I nearly raised my hand. Considered telling her I could go all night. The woman seriously turned me into a double entendre machine.

“How about ‘Shake it Off’ by Florence and the Machine? That’s been my song lately. Are you familiar enough to play it?”

A quick mental replay, a bit of fiddling, and I had it. “Got it.”

Willa sat straighter and tapped her foot to the beat, and then I circled back to the beginning. She swept her ponytail over her shoulder, giving me an uninterrupted view of her cleavage, and it’d be hard for anything to take center stage with those on display.

Or so I thought, until the moment she opened her mouth.

Her voice rolled out of her, smooth and full, with a hint of a rasp. She had a unique style, one that perfectly melded the sort of smooth jazz singing from the seventies with the modern edge of today’s best female artists.

My fingers slipped, something that hadn’t happened in so long I almost stopped to correct it instead of playing on. She crinkled her nose as she reached the chorus, allowing the music to course through her the same way I did when I got lost in a piece.

About halfway through, she leaned closer, singing and swaying, and I sat, mesmerized and lost to the gravity of the type of performance a person usually had to pay money to see. The woman who’d tried to drink wine out of a broken bottle was gone, replaced by a fearless, tenacious woman who’d been liberated by the lyrics.

Willa held out the last note, and then her head came to rest on my shoulder. Happiness radiated off her, as strong, beautiful, and intoxicating as her voice. “Man, that felt good.”

The tiniest turn of my head brought my mouth a breath from hers, and my pulse rioted. “It sounded fucking amazing. Saying you can sing is an understatement.”

“Same with you and the piano.” Her gaze lit on mine, the stormy depths reminding me of the sea before a hard rain, and I sat frozen as her hand drifted up to the center of my chest. Under normal circumstances, I’d seize the moment and kiss the hell out of her. But this moment was a tentative bubble drifting along the breeze, and the tiniest bit of interference might cause it to pop.

The tip of her pink tongue darted out to wet her lips, and the lust inundating my system demanded I close the gap, plunder that mouth, and claim it as mine.

Earlier, I’d promised ten minutes and I’d walk her home, and I was a man of my word.

Most days.

The other problem was that I liked her. Honest to God admiration and affection had formed during our limited interactions. If she was onboard with casual, it’d be one thing. Bringing it up might ruin the moment and the night, as well as my chance to bury myself between her thighs. My player days were over, though, ruined after seeing the repercussions when guys had done the same thing to my sister. Now I told women upfront exactly what they were in for.

A groan slipped out, and I lowered my forehead to hers. “Willa…”

“Nathan.”

No one used my full name, but it was the second time she’d done so, and it left my head spinning and my cock stirring.

She glided her hand up my chest and rested it on the side of my neck, much the same way I’d done earlier on the couch. When the pad of her thumb grazed my lower lip, I bit down, giving her a solid nip without inflicting too much pain.

Her jaw dropped, and the whimper that tumbled out was as glorious as the notes of the song she’d hit earlier.

“You’re playing with fire,” I rasped, and the vixen licked her lips again.

“I know. I just…” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Guess I wanted to see what it’d be like.”

“You’re gonna get burned—that’s what it’ll be like.” I pivoted and braced a hand on the edge of the bench, inches from her ass, daring my restraint to crumble even as I mentally reinforced it. “And me, I’m fine with scorching this whole fucking place to the ground. We can climb on the rollercoaster and experience the ups and downs, but the short thrill ride is all it’ll ever be.”

“So, you’re saying you’re not very good at lasting?”

A growl ripped free as I curled her into my arms and plunked her onto my lap, one leg on either side of my hips and her back against the keys of the piano. This time, I knew exactly what caused the shock in her expression. “What I meant is that I don’t do attachments, not right now. I’m at the busiest point in my career, and no-strings fun is all I have time for. We live next door to each other, so if that’s gonna be a problem, then this can’t happen.”

I arched my hips so there’d be no question of how badly I wanted her. “I also promised you earlier that if you gave me ten more minutes, I’d walk you home. Say you’ve changed your mind, and that’ll be that.”

Time ground to a halt, the world spinning around us, and I glided my hands over her hips and rested them dangerously low on her back.

She leaned forward and looped her arms around my neck, her pussy cradling my erection with divine perfection. “I’ve never felt so powerful before.”

“If you feel powerful now, just wait until I strip you naked and worship your body, every inch from head to toe.” My heart thundered in my chest, providing a steady beat as I brushed my lips over hers. “Are you open to amending our agreement?”

Willa’s eyelashes fluttered and her head lolled back. “Why?” she asked, slowly dragging

her hand down her neck, her breath ragged. “Are you going to hammer out a contract real quick?”

“I’m okay with verbal agreements. In fact, I’m more than happy to just use my mouth.” I grazed the tip of my nose across her cheekbone and sank my teeth into the lobe of her ear.

A tiny mewl came from her as her head fell forward again. Her skirt had bunched high on her thighs, and I hooked my thumbs in the fabric, shoving it up another few inches and getting a glimpse of her panties. Black lacy panties with flowers on them.

I spread my fingers around her upper thighs, depressing them the same way I’d done the piano keys. She shuddered against me, her nipples hardening and straining against the thin fabric of her top. I dipped my head to the curve of her neck and placed a heated, opened-mouthed kiss on the soft skin.

“Oh God,” she whispered, sliding down my lap until her hipbones bumped mine.

I continued trailing a lazy path with my tongue, tasting my way to the swells of her breasts. “Still haven’t heard that verbal agreement.”

“Yes,” she said. “Whatever it was, I agree.”

I lifted my head, and our ragged breaths mingled together for a tension-filled eternity. Then I finally gave in to her gravitational pull and crashed my mouth to hers.