by Lindsey Hart
“Are you an angel? A spirit? Have you come back for me?”
“I’m real flesh and blood. Grasp my skin. Feel my breath. Taste my lips.” She said the words, the words that were the pinnacle moment, words that would shatter the building conflict and lead to a happy ending. She paused, not having thought far enough ahead what that kiss truly meant. She’d written this for Dallas. She never imagined, when she was writing, that it would be her receiving that kiss. Her tasting his lips. Her body rushed to life as the memory of the kiss they’d shared that night, the night he thought she was Hannah, the kiss she stole, the kiss that should never have happened, took over.
Please, see me Dallas. Me. Leena. Please, just for once, let it be me and not a ghost. Not her. Just me.
Dallas’ hands moved from her shoulders, up, up to tangle in the waterfall of her hair. His touch wasn’t gentle, but it was electric. He tilted her face upwards with his other hand, his fingers firm and steady on her jaw and so very warm. The callouses on his hands, from years of playing, scraped over her delicate skin. She savored the feel, the sweet rasp of his unique touch. She closed her eyes and her lips parted, expecting the chaste kiss for the stage, a kiss that was nothing more than theatrical, an obligation to the part.
He was just an inch away, his breath warm on her cheek, spicy against her lips. And then his mouth crushed down on hers, the heat of passion stole her breath. It wasn’t just her. The raw desire and blatant hunger in his kiss were unmistakable. He kissed her with utter abandon and complete desperation, like a man starving, like a man drowning, like a man who wanted her and needed her. Like she was his love, a love that he thought dead.
The instant his lips touched hers, it was like an explosion occurred in her mind. The doors that had refused to budge burst open. The rush of memory was shocking, a deluge or a landslide. She rocked back on her heels, but Dallas wouldn’t let her shy away. He caught her, braced her with his stronghold as he explored her mouth. She opened to him, gasped at the shock of her memory suddenly just being there, moaned at the passion that was spreading through her bloodstream. The sound was smothered and swallowed as Dallas sipped at her lips. He drank her rough breaths, her whimpers, every sound she made. The kiss went on and she lost herself. She forgot they were on stage, forgot there were people watching them.
Dallas pulled away finally, breathing roughly, chest heaving, eyes blazing. He stared at her like he truly, truly saw her for the first time. Her. Not Hannah. Not Giselle. Leena.
“I… I remember,” she breathed, so only he could hear. “I remember everything.” She could see herself, sitting at her own tiny apartment, rewriting that ending. She had a keyboard, but she didn’t use it. She heard the notes in her head, saw it as though she was playing. She poured her soul into that work. She waited weeks before she gave it to Dallas, afraid, knowing full well it would change everything between them. Eventually, it had.
Dallas’ light grey eyes darkened. “Come. We have to talk.” He gripped her hand and dragged her the opposite end of the stage with absolutely no explanation to the rest of the cast. She tried to protest, but he wouldn’t let her go.
They escaped down the hall, turned left and found the stairs that took them up to the next level of the building. Dallas paused in front of her door, surprising her. He waited for her to open it. She hadn’t locked it and when she turned the handle, it swung inward.
He didn’t pause. He never let her hand go. His grip was like iron and somehow tender all at once.
“Dallas- we can’t just leave like that,” Leena panted.
“It’s our theatre,” he ground out. “We can do whatever we want.” He slammed the door shut behind them and locked it.
She barely had time to take a breath before he turned her, slammed her up against his unyielding planes. Her hands hit the wall of his chest and when he pressed his groin up against her, there was no mistaking his desire.
“Dallas?” She panted, hardly daring to look up at his face. This was everything she’d wanted. She’d spent years dreaming of this moment. “This is me. Leena. Please don’t do this if it’s not me to you.”
“It’s you,” he ground out. “It’s you, Leena. It’s always been you.”
He bent his head and his lips crushed hers, searing, burning her, taking her away, banishing her fears. His lips dragged over hers. His tongue traced the outline of her bottom lip before he nipped her gently. It was the most sensual thing anyone had ever done to her. His breaths were out of control, panting, his chest heaving against her.
I love you, Dallas. You’re the only man I’ve ever loved. She’d waited half her life to tell him that. Except that as he pulled away and took her hand again, his much larger fingers tangling through hers, she still couldn’t make herself say the words.
CHAPTER 14
Dallas
His head spun, his thoughts wild and jumbled. He was moving, propelling them forward, backward, he didn’t even know. He was wrapped up in Leena, his hands, his arms, his legs. His mouth searched hers hungrily. He never relinquished his hold on her. He drank from her like she was a fresh spring and he’d been thirsting his entire damn life.
When she finally broke away and he tore open his eyes, he was in her room. She stepped back a halting pace and glanced nervously at her bed. It was a monstrous thing, the headboard and footboard upholstered so that it looked so much larger than it was. She had a taste for modern furniture, he realized, when he took in the glass dresser and matching nightstands. Everything was so crisp and neat and clean. Bright sunlight streamed into the room through the open blinds. Normally he would have hated that, but at the moment, he found he didn’t care.
His gaze traveled back to Leena and landed hotly on her glorious body. Her white robes glowed and became nearly transparent when the sunlight pierced through them. She looked like an angel or a goddess… something not altogether human with her blonde curls trailing down her back, the woven strands of gold leaves like a crown on her head. They’d done an immaculate job of her costume. The robes fitted her just right, her one shoulder bare. The tips of her tiny, bare feet peeked out at the bottom, below the hem of the flowing folds of fabric.
He wanted to tear that damn costume off of her, to gaze full on at the swells of creamy, pale skin, full breasts with the dusky pink nipples, sweet curves, her flat stomach and long, long legs.
He managed to control himself since he figured she’d be angry if he ruined her costume. Instead, when his hands fell to her hips, he swept her up, onto the bed. She tumbled below him, fighting through the folds of her dress as he did. His body ached. It was a brand new form of physical torture, a hunger eating at him from the inside out.
His cock throbbed, his blood soared. His heart hammered so violently he wondered if it was actually bruising the underside of his ribs. He knew nothing, nothing but the need to fill and sate every single one of his burning senses. He needed to see her, touch her, inhale her wondrous scent, taste her, mark her as his as he gave himself, or what he could of his tattered, tortured soul.
Her robes gave and he finally made headway. He ran his hand down the length of her leg, memorizing every detail, the soft smoothness of her skin, the silk of her under his fingertips. His desire for her was yet another form of music, fighting, struggling inside of him, trying to make its way out. He wanted to show her, to teach her the song of herself, the song of their bodies joining.
The hem of her robe rode higher, up over her knees, over her thighs. His hands kept pushing the gossamer fabric up until it reached her hips and the most delicate pair of white lace panties was bared to him. The sight of them drove him wild, stirred his senses, hit him and affected him in the most primal way. There was a strange sound in the room and he didn’t realize, for a second, that it was a low growl torn from his throat.
“Dallas…” Leena whispered, uncertainty and doubt heavy in that one word. She tried to slam her legs shut, but his hand was there. He didn’t force them open, just slowly ran his hand along the burning
heat of her. She was so warm and so very wet, soaking through the thin silk of her underwear.
Her thighs parted automatically, and her hips bucked under his touch. He wanted to wait, to be slow and gentle, but he couldn’t. God, he’d known Leena for nearly a lifetime, but it was like he was seeing her for the first time. He’d finally opened his damn eyes, taken off the blinders and realized just how much he needed her.
Those damn panties were in his way. He tried to remove them gently, but he was sure he heard them rip as he pulled them down her thighs, down the long planes of her leg and over her delicate feet. He threw them onto the floor, baring her to him.
The sunlight played over her body, bathing her in golden perfection. Lord, she was perfect. She took his damn breath away. She was perfectly smooth and glisteningly wet for him. She tried to push his head away in a weak attempt at modesty as he came closer. He could tell, from the way her hand rested on the crown of his hair, her fingers slowly fisting in the golden strands, that she didn’t mean it. She didn’t want him to stop.
The first taste of her was like a haven Dallas was damn sure he was never going to get to. She wasn’t just another form of music, she was the song, the work, the masterpiece completed. He tasted her sweetness, lapped at her, ran his tongue over her heated folds. He found her entrance, her clit, massaged and licked her gently. She squirmed and whimpered, bucked under him, clutched at his hair so tightly his scalp burned. Lord, she was perfect. Absolute, utter perfection. And he, for the first time in his life, felt perfect next to her.
How could I have been so damn blind? She’s been right here the entire time.
The ache inside of him grew, fierce, maddening, consuming him until he thought that if he didn’t have her, he would truly go insane. He wanted her to come, wanted to taste her climax, wanted to hear her to cry his name. He moved his mouth up, paying homage to her clit, applying more pressure, teasing her faster, harder. The extra stimulation was all it took to send her flying over the edge. Her body tensed, and a rush of moisture coated his lips, his chin, as she came.
He pulled away, watching her, loving the way her features tightened, her eyes closed, her lips parted. She whimpered, mewled sounds that were indistinguishable. Her body convulsed, her stomach tightened, and her legs trembled. Her hands fell to his shoulders and gripped the fabric of his tunic.
The damn tunic.
Dallas leaned back and all but ripped the costume over his head. He tore off his boxers next and shed the uncomfortable sandals that he hadn’t even felt until that moment. When Leena finally opened her glistening sea green eyes and realized that he was naked, they raked hotly over his body. They widened when they fell below his waist and she took in his cock, which was so damn hard it was pulsing and standing nearly vertical against his chiseled abdomen.
The glow of appreciation, of outright hunger in her eyes fuelled his own wild need. His stomach muscles cramped while the rest of his body throbbed and burned. He moved swiftly, covering her with his hard body, bracing himself near her face.
He bent and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips. She moaned, and he realized that the tortured moan that joined the sounds she made was all his. She kissed him furiously. Her arms tangled around his neck, her nails biting into his shoulders.
He reached between them, pulling up the folds of her robe around her waist and positioning himself at her entrance in a swift movement.
She froze beneath him. He didn’t expect her to tear her mouth away from him or look up at him in abject fear. He read the hesitation in her eyes, no, the terror and stopped short. He pulsed against her thigh, his body straining, drawn so tight he felt that he was going to snap already.
“Leena? Do you want me- do you want me to stop?” It nearly killed him to say those words.
She shook her head, but then she nodded. Alarmingly, huge tears welled in her eyes. He suddenly felt disgusted with himself. God, he was this thing, this broken thing that was so damn tortured he couldn’t even look after himself properly half the time. She’d seen him at his absolute worst more times than he could count. She picked up after him, did everything for him so that he could write and write and write his damn music. It was all he cared about until…
Until he cared about her.
No wonder she was disgusted by him. No wonder she didn’t want to do this, didn’t want him inside of her.
He rolled away quickly before he could do any more damage. As he got off of her, moved to the empty, cold side of the bed, he jerked down her robe so that it covered her and protected her modesty.
“Dallas! Where are you going… what…”
He got off the bed and searched for his clothes, remembering too late that all he had was that damn costume. Lord, what had he been thinking, taking her up here like this? She was his wife, but he’d never had a kind word for her, not in years.
She said she remembered. It wasn’t even like she had the last few weeks to go on, weeks that were so much different. She wasn’t like a completely different person, but she was changed. And now… now she remembered everything. Every ugly moment. She remembered that he loved her best friend, not her. That he had for years and years, even after her death. Or at least, he thought he had.
He scooped his tunic off the floor, the taste of her still heady and sweet in his mouth. It was almost too much. He felt so tortured he half suspected walking out that door might kill him.
“Dallas! Can you just stop!” Leena’s small, warm hand closed around his arm. He did stop, his tunic hanging from his hand. He turned slowly to face her. She was delicate, utterly astounding, so beautiful it hurt to look at her. She truly was a goddess, those high cheekbones pronounced and highlighted by the rays of the sun, her dainty jawline standing out in contrast, her lips red and bruised with his kiss. Her eyes were huge and luminous and shone with… not disgust as he expected. No, she looked at him the way she’d always looked at him. No judgment, no condemnation. She never wanted him to be like everyone else. She’d never told him to get it together and just try, for once, to be normal. She’d accepted him as he was, unconditionally, something not even his own parents had done for him. He’d put her through so much over the years and still, still she looked at him the same way. With love.
How could he have been foolish enough to miss it before? How could he not have realized that she loved him?
His tunic fell from his hand and he reached out and gripped her arm. He wasn’t gentle, but he made sure he didn’t hurt her. “How long?” he ground out. “How long have you felt like this?”
She blinked hard, but it didn’t stop the tears from trailing down her cheeks in silvery lines. He couldn’t stop himself. He leaned forward, bent his head and kissed them away. He lapped at the salt of her sorrow, her love, her pain.
Her lips moved against his cheek and the words floated up to him, invading his soul. “Forever. Since the first time I saw you.”
She broke him. She brought him to his knees, humbled him, shattered his heart. “Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She shook her head, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. Her hand, when she reached up to caress his cheek, was so gentle he wanted to weep. “Take off my robe. I don’t want there to be anything between us when we do this.”
“But you… you didn’t want- you were afraid or horrified or disgusted-”
Her eyes flew away, towards the window. When she finally looked back at him, there were two scarlet smudges on her pale cheeks. “Don’t say that. I could never be disgusted by you. It’s crazy that you would even think that.”
“What then?” He asked huskily. His stomach felt like it was tied in a thousand knots as he waited for her to reply.
“I- I’ve never done this before. With anyone.”
His head spun. The room tilted wildly like it had that day at the piano when he’d ended up on the floor. He pulled away and stumbled back, staring at Leena in amazement. “How? You’re…”
“What? Thirty?” She smile
d, half mockingly, at herself. “I know. But I met you when I was sixteen. There was never anyone else I wanted. Never.”
“And what if I-”
“Never realized? Had your head too far up your ass to ever think about anyone but yourself?” She shrugged, and she actually laughed, just a tiny giggle. “I was close to you and that’s what mattered to me. The way I felt didn’t depend on you loving me in return.”
“But you’re young. Surely you wanted to… to be with someone.”
“Dallas, I really don’t want to talk about that. It wasn’t easy, being so close to you and feeling like I did. Sometimes I thought I was going to go insane.”
“God, I’ve lived my life as a shut-in, as… well, you know that I’m messed up and I’ve even-”
“Stop it!” Leena blinked hard, distilling the moisture welling in her eyes. “You don’t have to ruin this. You have no idea what it’s been like for me. You have no idea who I even am. Not really.”
“No one asked you to sacrifice yourself for me.” Dallas breathed heavily. He didn’t want to do this, didn’t want to hurt her, but he could see the hurt written all over her face regardless. She stared back at him, eyes hardening, face becoming a mask to keep him out, to keep him away, to stop him from wounding her further. He didn’t want that. He gripped her shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Don’t. Don’t do that, Leena. I’m sorry.” He took a shuddery breath. “You have no idea how sorry I am. I- I just have no idea how to do this now that I know.”
He felt the very second she relaxed. The tension went out of her shoulders and she melted against him. Her face tucked into his shoulder and her arms wrapped around his neck. The heat of her, the firm press of her breasts, her hips, her curves, into his own body set off the chain of violent chemical reactions and he was right back to wanting her so desperately that he knew he’d be ruined if he didn’t have her.