A Reckless Note (Brilliance Trilogy #1) - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,47
is wholly man and sex, he closes the space between us, but he doesn’t grab me and rip my clothes, though he makes me wish he’d do just that. But that is not who this man is, at least, not in this moment. In this moment, he is control and power, two things that ooze from him as surely as does his desire.
Instead, his fingers twine with mine in what has too easily and quickly become a familiar and welcome gesture. It could be considered almost tender, though there’s nothing tender in what brews between us in the heat of this night, nor is tender what I crave. Tender is sweet. Tender is sheltered. Tender is all I have ever known and all I wish to escape. I don’t overthink why that is, though I might if I had time. I don’t have time. He leads me down the ten steel steps and straight into an open room wrapped in floor-to-ceiling windows where an eternal dark sky and ocean seem to surround us now. The living area is to the right of the space, two steps leading to the seating area with a large steel gray high-backed couch and two matching chairs, a luxurious gray rug beneath them all, a chandelier of a violin dangling above a round gray marble table. That chandelier is stunning, while the twinkling dots of color from the city lights brighten the night sky and the miles of ocean with life. What brightens me though, what calls me, is the grand piano to the right of the living area, and the violin displayed on a stand beside it.
I suck in a breath and Kace releases my hand as if he’s telling me that I’m free to follow the burn in my belly. And so, I do. I close the space between me and it, stopping in front of the violin, a work of art, the shiny wood a perfect shade of brown flecked with black. And when Kace steps to my side, I whisper, “It’s a Stradivarius,” incredulous that I am actually standing here with a piece of my history, with a piece of my family.
“It is,” he agrees. “My favorite of the three I own. The other two are locked in a vault. Touch it if you wish. Pick it up and hold it.”
Yes to all the things he has just suggested. I want to pick it up and hold it but I do not. I resist out of sheer conditioning, taught to run from my past, and from anyone who could connect me to that past. And yet here I am, with “the” Kace August and not one, but three Stradivarius violins, within reach.
Kace steps behind me, the warmth of his body sinking into mine before he even touches me. But he does touch me. The instant his hands settle on my waist, I lean into him, welcoming the power of his body against mine. He’s strong, confident, a man who knows his place in this world and I envy this of him. He nuzzles my neck, goosebumps lifting on my nape. “It’s calling you,” he says, his lips brushing my ear, breath a warm fan on my neck. “I can feel it. You want to know if it’s real.”
I’m suddenly not sure if he’s talking about the violin, but I turn to face him, his touch rotating with me. My hands settle on his upper arms, muscles flexing beneath my palms. “Do you really want to know?”
His hand slides under my hair and settles warmly on my neck, his touch dragging my mouth close to his. “Oh yes,” he murmurs, his breath a warm caress on my cheek. “I’ve learned in life that the façade of truth destroys more than outright lies.”
Never have any words hit me deeper, harder, never have they been more real.
“I stayed away from you for reasons that haven’t changed. I’m not a forever guy. I’m not good for you.”
I almost laugh with the truth in those words. I don’t know what he expects from me, but he’s right. He is everything I’ve been warned against which, if I’m honest, only makes me want him more but there is more to this story.
“Nor am I good for you,” I say. “And I, too, have learned a few lessons, like forever doesn’t even exist. And even if it did, it’s too long.”
He pulls back, surprise etched on his handsome face, and something else—there is always something else with