The Piano Man Project Page 0,91

it wasn’t lunchtime, and they weren’t stuffed. They’d skipped dessert. He could hear her breathing, feel her waiting for him to take his turn to speak.

‘I don’t have a number to give you,’ he said, winding silky strands of her hair around his fingers. ‘And I don’t kiss on the cheek.’

He heard her intake of breath when he wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and drew her head to his.

He hadn’t intended on kissing her tonight, in fact he’d planned not to as he’d tipped his face up into the beating rain of his shower earlier. He needed involvement like he needed a hole in the head; but he wasn’t too big to admit that he was lonely. What he really needed was a friend. He just wished his body had got the memo from his brain, because in that moment he didn’t want Honey to be his friend. He just plain wanted her.

If she’d have resisted for even a second, it would have been enough. But she didn’t. She was pliant and warm, and she turned into his kiss rather than away and opened her mouth under his.

When he’d kissed her before, it had been urgent, frantic. This time it was neither of those things, deliberately so. She moved closer into the circle of his arms, and he stroked his thumb along the curve of her jaw. He took his time, because she was a luxury and his life was so starved of luxury that he needed to drink her in. He could feel the tremble in her lips when she sighed against his.

‘I’m glad you don’t kiss on the cheek,’ she whispered. He felt her reach over and click the lamp out, and then all of a sudden it wasn’t so easy to go slow because her hands were inside his shirt and his blood was roaring in his veins. He’d been wrong earlier. There was still one thing that could make his heart race. This, here and now. He pushed her down onto the sofa, or maybe she pulled him down, he couldn’t tell and it didn’t matter. Either way he found himself lying on top of her, feeling himself yield into her softness, wanting her so badly that his whole body ached with it.

She pulled his tie loose and unpicked the buttons of his shirt. He pushed it off when she eased it back off his shoulders, kissing the skin she revealed.

‘Why did you turn out the light?’ he said, trailing his lips over her face with his hand buried in her hair.

‘To make it even,’ she said. They both knew it would never be anywhere close to even.

‘Crazy girl. Did it work?’ he asked, opening the buttons on her dress and kissing the curves of her breasts.

‘Not really. I can still see you,’ she whispered. ‘You’re beautiful, Hal.’

No one had ever called him beautiful. He paid the compliments. So Hal let himself get lost completely in the wonderland of being here with her, in the soft warmth of her compliments and in her efforts to make him feel good, because he mostly felt so goddamn awful. It moved him that she’d turned out the light. It moved him because she wanted this experience to be as good for him as it was for her. He remembered back to their previous terrible attempt at sex, to her telling him that she’d brought a blindfold. He’d scorned it at the time, deriding her in his head for not having a clue how he felt, but right now, he got it. She’d never understand the reality of how this was for him, but the fact that she even wanted to try turned out to be a huge fucking turn on.

‘Pass me my tie?’ he said, and took it from her fingers when she’d reached it from the floor.

‘Are you sure you want it to be even?’ he murmured, running it between his fingers to find the centre.

Her nails dug into his back, and he heard her low gasp as she lifted her head to help him. Her breath tickled the skin beneath his ear, and her hips rocked up to meet his.

‘Blindfold me, Hal.’

CHAPTER THIRTY

It had been shadowy in the lounge, and Hal’s tie took it back to complete darkness. He’d secured it well, no slivers of light to guide her way.

‘Okay?’ he whispered, and she stroked her hands over him, learning his body; the lean compacted muscles of his shoulders, the smooth length of