“Mom and Dad also told me that the L.A. Philharmonic Orchestra is going to be traveling to three countries in the next several months.”
Brows raised, he asked, “Is that something that you want to do, also?”
Her nose wrinkled slightly as she shook her head. “No… not with the orchestra. Mom and Dad’s musical goals are… different… from mine.” She huffed. “It’s hard to explain to someone not in the industry.”
Squeezing her hand, he said, “Then just tell me. Honestly, Christina, I want to know everything about you.” Something flashed through her eyes but quickly left, leaving him uncertain if his mind was playing tricks in the dark restaurant lit mostly with candlelight.
“My father is a concertmaster—the lead violinist. It’s a coveted position that comes with not only status but a higher salary. My mother is the cellist which, like my father’s position, means she is the top cello player. You know, they used to be with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra and then both received offers to move to California to participate in the L.A. Philharmonic. They were ready for a change and the timing was right. I was out of college and already employed by the Portland Orchestra. They wanted me to come with them, but it was never my goal.”
“You wanted to strike out on your own.”
Eyes bright, she nodded and smiled. “Exactly. I know, I know, it’s very common for any young person to want to separate from their parents. I was no different. Only, since we were all in the same business, it was even more important for me to have a separate professional identity from them. Plus, my musical goals are different.”
“Different?”
She nibbled on her bottom lip as her brow scrunched again. Lifting her gaze, she said, “I enjoy teaching. I enjoy a variety of music, not just playing in the orchestra. I’m completely dedicated to the orchestra, but it’s a much smaller, less prestigious one. I have time to pursue other musical interests. Believe me, with an orchestra like New York or L.A., you are one-hundred percent dedicated and invested in that job.”
The server interrupted with their desserts, and for the next several minutes their talk halted as groans of delight left their lips. Looking across the table toward her, a tiny dab of chocolate on the corner of her mouth snagged his attention, and he wanted to lean over to kiss it off. Instead, he lifted his finger and gently swiped it away. Startled, her tongue darted out over her lips.
“I wish I’d done that.”
Tilting her head to the side, she asked, “Done what?”
“Licked the chocolate off your lips.”
Her breath hitched. “I wish you had, also.”
“Don’t tempt me. I’m barely hanging on not grabbing you, tossing you over my shoulder, and dragging you out of here.”
Her fingers covered her mouth as she stifled her mirth. “That might sound caveman-ish, but I’m barely hanging on not saying to hell with the tiramisu and leaping across the table and landing in your lap.”
He jammed his hand into his back pocket and grabbed his wallet. Tossing enough money to pay for their food, including a huge tip, he grabbed her hand and gently pulled her from the chair. With a head nod toward the server, he guided her outside. His intention had been to get to his SUV as quickly as possible, but his movements were thwarted when she rounded on him, plastered herself to his front, lifted on her toes, and wrapped her arms around his neck.
“I’m a little short, so I could use some help,” she said, her words filled with desperation.
His answer was to wrap his arms around her waist and lift, bringing her lips straight to his. With his back resting against the brick building, their kiss flamed hot. She tasted of wine and sweet dessert. Her legs separated as though she wanted to wrap them around his waist, but her long skirt didn’t allow the movement.
“Get a room,” someone called out from the parking lot, laughing loudly.
With her still in his arms, they separated, breaths coming in pants.
“I wish we could,” she said.
He growled, “Change of plans.”
Thirty minutes later, after checking into the Portland Harbor Hotel, clothes flew off as they stumbled around, each trying to undress the other while maintaining their kiss.
“Christ,” he mumbled after he grabbed a condom, barely catching her as they fell onto the bed. “I had more finesse as a teenager.”
Laughing, she tossed her eyeglasses to the nightstand, then cupped his jaws, holding his gaze while wrapping her now-free legs around his waist. “I think your technique is perfect.”
His cock settled against her core, but afraid of crushing her on the soft mattress, he flipped them so she was on top. She lifted and impaled herself on his erection, eliciting a gasp from his lips and a moan from her.
“Christina, I didn’t get you ready—”
“I’m ready,” she rushed, her eyes finding his. “I’ve been ready ever since I first laid eyes on you.”
If her words were meant to excite, they had the desired effect. Grabbing her hips with his hands, he lifted her slightly, steadying her movements as she allowed him to thrust upward. Her fingers clutched his shoulders before dragging her short nails over his chest. Her breasts bounced to their rhythm, their two bodies working together.
His hands glided up to cup her full breasts. “You’re just as beautiful as I imagined… and I’ve imagined you like this more than I want to admit.”
Leaning down, she kissed him, mumbling, “This is better than what I’ve been fantasizing.”
Her hair was still in its bun, but a few strands were now loosened and waving around her face. Her pale eyes were hooded with lust.
He lifted his torso enough to capture a taut nipple in his mouth, pulling it deeply. Sliding one hand down to press his thumb against her clit, she shuddered, crying out as her orgasm hit. Her nails dug in, and he knew he’d been marked with little crescents.
She fell on top of him, and with another flip, he continued to piston his hips, driving his cock inside her pulsating core. A smile curved her lips as she met him thrust for thrust, and soon, he threw his head back, his neck straining with his own release. Falling to the side, he could barely catch his breath and wondered if death by orgasm was possible.
Sex for Clay had usually been with a semi-committed partner. Not a man who participated in one-night stands since getting out of the military, he preferred sex with a woman with whom he at least had shared a few dinners and conversations. It was still just sex. A physical release with someone interesting, but he’d never found anyone he cared about. Even though he and Christina were new, she was different. God, I hope this isn’t one-sided!
Opening his eyes, he found her staring intently at him, her lips curving slightly.
“I was going to ask you what you were thinking about, but then I thought you might just be trying to recover,” she said.
Chuckling, he rolled toward her, keeping her tucked into his embrace. “Yeah, I am trying to recover from an orgasm that nearly killed me.” He brushed the loose lock of hair back from her face. “But I was also thinking that I want to see more of you.”
Brows lifted, she quipped, “Clay, I’m naked. How much more of me can you see?”
Squeezing her hips, he growled, “Smart-ass.”