Chapter 30 #2
Bea looped her arms around his waist, rose onto her toes, and pressed a kiss on his mouth. “It’s been a while since you laughed like that.”
His fingertips were immediately drawn to the soft warmth of her lower back beneath the fabric. She was here, safe. In his arms. “He’s a good kid.”
“That ‘kid’ is nearly as tall as you now,” she said. “I’m glad he made the officer track. He worked so h—”
Her words scattered when his lips found her ear, then traced lower, grazing the sensitive line of her throat. One hand went to her buttons without patience.
“Do you think we should invite the boys to the housewarming on Sunday?” she tried again. “It’d be nice to see—”
Her blouse gaped, then came undone fully. He hoisted her up using just one forearm. She weighed less than his sick-day warm up set on the bench press.
Bea yelped, stabilizing herself on his pecs, legs clamping instinctively around his waist. “What are you doing?”
“It should be obvious,” he said, already walking.
They made it half a dozen steps before Alice rounded the corner, pausing so fast the tray she held tilted. “Mr. Griffin. Mrs. Griffin. Is there anything else tonight?”
Bea buried her face in his shoulder, not making eye contact. Rafael filed away a single thought: the staff schedule needs adjusting.
“No, thank you, Alice,” he replied.
“Just letting you know,” she added, “Teresa’s in the room closest to yours fitting the new drawers that were delivered this afternoon. She’ll be about thirty minutes more.”
“Appreciate it.”
As Alice disappeared, Bea whispered urgently, “Put me down.”
“No.”
“We can’t—” she hissed. “They’re right there.”
His only response was to change direction.
“Where are we going?”
Past the formal living room, through the arched hallway, to the curved wall with the brass-handled door. He shouldered it open and carried her into the music room.
Moonlight streaked the floor in pale silver slashes. The baby grand gleamed in the corner, the room otherwise still unfurnished.
“Far enough?” he asked, pausing just inside as the door clicked closed.
Bea nodded. “Yeah, but…there’s no bed.”
Rafael kissed her, hard. “Let me worry about that. You worry about getting naked.”
He lowered her until she landed on her feet. Her shirt was already sliding off her; she let it drop. The bra followed, unclasped and forgotten to the floor. His wife was just as eager as he was tonight. Good.
Rafael crowded her against the side of the piano and bent his head.
His mouth closed over her, pulling a sound that she couldn’t soften.
He drew hard, tongue moving in patient circles before he switched to the other side.
He cupped what he wasn’t tasting, and dragged her hand down to his hardness so she felt exactly what she was doing to him.
He hooked his fingers into her waistband and she offered no resistance as he stripped everything away in one smooth pull. He lifted one of her legs up until her foot braced on the black-cushioned piano bench, opening her to his fingers. The first stroke made her jolt.
“Already,” he murmured, darkly pleased, lifting his finger up to show how they glistened.
“Yes,” she whispered. “For you.”
His hand worked with intent now. Her breathing grew shorter and more desperate.
“Louder,” he said. “No one can hear you but me.”
He pushed his trousers down and kicked them away, freeing himself. He dragged once through her slickness and watched as she shivered. Then he set her on the keys, a discordant chord exploding beneath her.
“Baby,” she breathed, half laugh, half panic. “We’re going to break it.”
“I don’t care,” he said as the instrument protested beneath her.
He widened his stance and drew her closer to the edge of the keys, one hand firm at her lower back as he tilted her toward him and pushed in.
“Look at me,” he ordered. She did, but her lashes dropped drunkenly when he filled her completely. The low whimper of satisfaction she made ignited his blood.
He moved. At first, she clutched him, arms tight behind his neck as he thrust into her, deep and steady.
Her grip loosened as the rhythm claimed her, until they dropped to either side of her, striking keys, turning pleasure into a cacophony.
Her head fell back, and the sounds he drew from her throat justified the room entirely.
“Turn.”
He drew back just enough to free her, then rotated her under his hands, sliding her off the keys and onto the bench. The moment her knees were stable, he guided her forward again, her palms bracing on the keys as bright treble skittered up on one side, the boom of bass on the other.
Bea gasped, silky hair wild, and he slid back into her with one ruthless stroke.
She had nowhere to go except back onto him, which was exactly where she belonged.
From this angle, he could drive deeper. He watched her take it—the arch of her spine, the way each thrust anchored her more firmly against the instrument—and tightened his hold at her waist. His fingers found the sensitive place that made her knees weaken, matching the movement of his hips until she was shaking.
Bea’s voice rose, raw and perfect.
“This is how I want you,” he growled into her ear. “Bent over something expensive, while I make you sound like that.”
He felt the shift in her before it crested. The subtle tightening, a single warning pulse. Then she shattered, head thrown back, his name wrenched from her lips with a kind of stunned ecstasy.
He’d intended to ride it out, but the sight of it, the feeling of her seizing around him hauled him under. He gritted her name through his teeth and drove forward, release tearing through him in answering surges.
Afterward he stayed there a little longer, unwilling to relinquish the view, savoring the way she fit beneath him.
The room quieted, save for their breathing.
When he finally withdrew, he flipped her and pulled her into his lap as he sat. He found the warm curve of her neck and inhaled, slow and satisfied—sweat, sex, and the drug that was his wife.
“I can’t believe we just did that on my piano.”
He tapped his head against hers. “You sounded better than anything you’ve played on it yet.”
She laughed, mortified, blushing now even though minutes ago her hands had been clawing at the keys.
“Do you think Alice or Teresa heard us?” she asked, suddenly remembering. Her brow furrowed.
“We can ask tomorrow.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Rafael kissed her shoulder. “Since we’re testing the soundproofing,” he murmured against her skin, his hand already traveling upward, “we should be thorough.”