Free The Revolution by S.L. Scott Page B

new house. Deep green vines cover the walls on either side of the entrance that are anchored by large planters and that house large black wooden doors that look old from time instead of design.
    After being on Calliope’s project for months, it’s a nice break to work on a man’s house. The lines and design tend to be less over the top, even with the history of the home coming into play.
    I check the front door and it opens, so I go inside. I cross through the foyer and enter the main room; large dark wood beams highlight a vaulted ceiling that gives the space an airy, but impressive feel. There’s a back wall of what appears to be glass pocket doors showing off the beauty of the landscaping. I love the warmth and see why he bought it.
    The only piece of furniture in the room is not furniture at all. A beautiful black baby grand piano is tucked in the corner. No guitar like I expected, but he’s not moved in yet. The bench is protected between the wall and the instrument. Drawn to it, I admire the shiny lacquer and the scale. It’s perfect in this room.
    “The house has been well maintained,” Kaz’s voice greets my backside.
    I turn with a smile, my back against the piano. “It has been. It’s beautiful.”
    “So are you.” He comes closer. “It’s good to see you.”
    I can’t help feeling coy, and I know I’m blushing just from his smile. “It’s good to see you, too.”
    Leaning in, he kisses me on the cheek, then whispers, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
    Just as he’s about to move away, I hold him and kiss under his jaw. “You’ve been on my mind since you left.”
    We stand in the middle of the room. His body is relaxed under my hands and his scent is masculine and calming. His hands are on my hips and our bodies close the distance. I can feel his heart beating steady and mine steadies in sync.
    The back of my head is stroked and the gesture is so loving that I close my eyes, wanting to stay in this moment for as long as I can.
    A sharp inhale is heard and his breath covers my neck followed by a sweet peck. He whispers, “Would you like to eat or have a tour first?”
    “Give me the tour and start with this,” I reply lowly, weak to this man.
    A smile plays on his lips, tempting me to kiss him. He says, “The piano is one of the few items I own. It’s a Steinway. Other than the house, it’s my biggest splurge.”
    “Do you play?”
    “I play.”
    “Will you play for me now?”
    “I doubt it’s in tune after being moved in yesterday.”
    “Maybe another time?”
    “Definitely another time.” He starts toward the stairs. “Ready to see the rest?”
    “Lead the way.” It’s still daylight and our voices echo in the empty house, but there’s an intimacy he maintains when he takes my hand. I grab my measuring tape from my purse and leave the bag on the floor.
    Signaling to the stairs, he says, “We can start in the bedroom… or mix it up and hit the kitchen first. Where do you like it?”
    I love a good double entendre but this man is well versed in the language of seduction, so as much as I want to react just like my body is, I stick to the business at hand. “Kitchens are the heart of the home. Let’s start there.”
    He laughs under his breath, turns, and takes me into the kitchen. He pats the wall, and says, “It opens somewhat to the living room, but I’m wondering if we take down part of this wall if the kitchen, this breakfast area, and the living room can flow even better.”
    Standing in the middle of the breakfast area, I look behind me and into the kitchen. “I see what you mean. The breakfast area is really another living space and we can treat it as such. We can easily fit a table for ten in here. If we go smaller, then there’s still enough room for a couch and chair, a coffee table and barstools at the bar. From the photos online, the space wasn’t used effectively by the previous owners.” I’m about to continue as I walk into the kitchen, stopping