unconscious ?” Dawn said.
Kellen’s back stiffened, drawing him away from the keyboard as he thought about the way she looked in that loose, shapeless white dress. How she smelled of honeysuckle and the sea. The sound of her voice and the music she so easily drew from the piano before him. He knew he was in trouble when he imagined how she’d taste—as delicious as her sweet, vanilla French toast—and how her supple flesh would feel beneath his hands. Warm. Soft. Smooth. He could almost feel her writhing beneath him as he claimed her with slow, deep thrusts. His cock throbbed and his balls ached with an unbearable fullness. What he wouldn’t give to be able to bury himself inside her. But he couldn’t.
He took a shaky breath and held it deep in his lungs, willing his lust to dissipate.
Torture. This was fucking torture.
“Yes,” he groaned. “That’s exactly what I think when I look at you.” He clenched both fists and rested them on either knee to keep himself from reaching for her. “But I can’t.”
The storm seemed to grow louder as their conversation lulled. He’d never been more tempted to go back on his promises to Sara. He had to leave this house. His convictions were strong, but his flesh grew weaker each moment he was in Dawn’s company.
“Could you tie me?” she asked quietly.
He tensed and scrambled from the bench, stubbing his toe on the piano leg. Pain shot up his foot and shin, and he welcomed the diversion. She was already a work of art. How beautiful would she look with knots and ropes drawing attention to her graceful lines and soft curves?
Kellen licked his lips and swallowed hard despite the sudden dryness in his mouth.
“I’m going to go,” Kellen said.
Lightning flashed in quick succession. Thunder made the house shudder. The wind howled, slashing the torrential rain against the windows in sheets.
“You can’t go out in that,” Dawn said. So matter of fact. So Dawn.
A gentle ping sounded on the piano as she found the keys in the darkness and began to play his song. Funny how he thought of it as his song. He wished Dawn could be his too.
He pressed the hard ridge of his cock against his thigh with one hand and closed his eyes, completely giving himself to the melody, even if he wasn’t quite ready to give himself over to the woman.
Chapter Six
Dawn tried to get lost in her music. Tried, but failed. She was so aware of Kellen standing in the dark several feet behind her right shoulder that he might as well have been plastered to her back. She wanted to feel that enormous bulge in his shorts pressing into her spine as he stood behind her. She’d give anything for those strong, masculine hands to reach around her to cup her breasts. For his thumbs to rub the unbearable ache from her stiff nipples. She squirmed on the bench, trying to alleviate some of the matching ache in the swollen flesh between her thighs.
Now that she knew the pieces of the entire song, Dawn needed to write it down so she could scan it and fax it to her agent in the morning. Unfortunately, it was too dark to see score paper and if the lights came on, she feared Kellen would find a good excuse to leave. Even if he refused to give in to her lame attempts at seduction, she didn't want him to go. She found his company inspiring. His interactions with his friend Owen seemed a little odd, but the way he described Shibari—which she'd never heard of before—had her squirming on the bench again. She was squirming so often that Kellen probably thought she had to pee. But her urgency was caused by something else entirely.
As she progressed through the music, she reached the second stanza, the one that had taken on the cadence of the ocean. Of sex.
Kellen released a sensual sigh, and it took every shred of willpower she possessed not to tackle him to the ground, straddle him, and show him the rhythm of her body. She'd never been with a musician before. She'd lusted after Pierre and imagined