The Maestro

  He seemed to debate it internally before rising to his feet and stepping toward the door. “Call Vanessa if you need anything, and she’ll get me.”

  “I promise I’ll be fine.” I’d have to be fine. The virus would pass. This tour would end. I’d return to my job at the Monarch School and focus my energies on my dating life and my graduate education.

  Maybe I’d manage not to screw those up too.

  * * *

  When I awoke the next morning, the nausea had abated, but my skin was sticky and hot. I took another dose of ibuprofen the doctor had left, and a shower did wonders. It took longer than usual to dress, weakness pulling at my muscles. I wasn’t in the mood for food, but a cup of tea sounded good. I dressed in fresh clothes and headed to the café on the main floor.

  Kieran was speaking on a phone in the lobby, his shoulders bunched and his free hand slicing the air. I tried not to think about what had gone wrong. I’d missed the night’s performance and didn’t know if he’d taken another lover. I didn’t need to know.

  None of that should concern me.

  When he saw me, his eyes lit, and he smiled. He disconnected his call, slid the phone into his jacket pocket, and strode straight toward me. He hugged me lightly. “How are you feeling?” The low baritone of his voice slid through me and infused me with desire.

  I sank against him for several beats longer than I should’ve. “Better today.”

  He shook his head. “You must’ve been the first to get sick. Half the orchestra’s been sick all night. We’ll have to reschedule the performance in Zurich.”

  Dread coiled through me, and I mentally worked through our options. “How are you feeling?”

  He stabbed a hand through his unusually messy hair. “I’m fine. Anxious about the cancellation, but happy you’re better.”

  The kindness in his voice nearly undid me. I wanted to apologize again and offer an explanation for my behavior. “What about Vanessa?”

  He sighed. “She’s one of the victims.”

  I’d take care of the needed arrangements. Over breakfast—tea and a plain bagel for me, a full breakfast for Kieran—where I carefully avoided his gaze, we came up with a decent plan.

  We’d cancel the night’s performance in Zurich and return at the end of the trip. It’d add one day to the schedule, and disappointing the city would be hard, but I hoped they’d understand. A performance with half the players wouldn’t be good.

  After we finished breakfast, we relocated to Kieran’s suite, which had a small office inside it. Focusing on work distracted me from being alone with the Maestro.

  It took several hours of phone calls and emails to sort the details, with several to-dos pending, regarding rearranging the plane flight and the hotel.

  Kieran sat on the edge of the bed and folded his hands between his spread knees. “I want to talk to you about New Year’s Eve.”

  Suddenly, there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. My heart pounded hard enough that I could hear it in my ears and every muscle in my body tensed. I didn’t want to talk about it. Still not a hundred percent, I’d need my faculties to discuss that. “I was a jerk, and I’m sorry.” That was all that needed to be said right now. I’d been in the wrong, but I wasn’t ready to explain how different we were, how this could never work, how we’d never been on the same page. Pretending otherwise would leave both of us worse off.

  Kieran inclined his head. “I don’t think you were a jerk. I’ve been thinking about why you went out. I pushed you into a sexual relationship, and then I wasn’t considerate of your feelings. I didn’t think about how being alone in my place on New Year’s Eve would make you feel. I was worried about the symphony and my own needs. I wanted you to come with me to the party, but knowing I wouldn’t get that, instead of making other arrangements, I wanted to go to the party and then come home to you. For you to be the woman I started the new year with.”

  He was apologizing to me? Shock went through me. “You didn’t push me into a sexual relationship.” We could start there. Starting the new year with me… That struck a desire so deep in my heart, I nearly swooned.

  He swallowed. “That’s what I’ve been thinking. I haven’t been involved with a virgin before. At least, not since I was a very young man. Those feelings can be intense. I’m sorry. I respect you, and I never meant to hurt you.”

  Several deep, slow breaths later, I could form words. “Thank you for saying that. But this isn’t about what we did together…sexually.”

  His eyes narrowed in thought. “Then what is it about? I’ve been talking to a therapist about this. That’s what we came up with.”

  Shock tumbled through me. “You spoke to a therapist?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Come on. You know understanding people is hard for me. I don’t always know why people do what they do.”

  I brought my hand to my heart, trying to slow it down. “I do know, which is why I’m shocked you talked to someone.”

  “I know I’m different. I’ve had problems communicating all my life. Simple interactions are easy for me. I know how to watch people’s faces and shake their hands and even spend the night with them. But more than a couple of days with the same person… The complicated ones are tough. I thought I understood you, but I know I missed something important. It’s why it’s been hard on me that you’re gone. I’ve been relying on you. You’ve been my best friend. You explain things to me. Since you left, I’ve been lost. I tried to have you back in my life in a way that would work for both of us. But I failed.”

  I knew with every fiber of my being how hard it was for him to think about our interactions and come up with that analysis and insight. “I didn’t want to be alone on New Year’s Eve. I went out planning to get wine. It turned into something more. Thank you for riding to my rescue.”

  He’d hung his head, and when he met my gaze again, his dark eyes welled with pain. “What about us?”

  A simple question without an easy answer. I searched for the words that wouldn’t hurt him more. “I can’t handle being in an intimate relationship with you.”

  To classify it that way made me feel awful. In the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind, I’d hoped fooling around with him would, one day, become something more. Or that it already meant more, but we hadn’t put words to it.

  I stood from the desk and walked to sit next to him on the bed, searching for gentle, clear words. I set my hand on his thigh, over his rough jeans, needing the physical contact. “You and I think of sex and relationships differently. You sleep with whoever when the mood strikes, and when you’re done, it’s over and you walk away. I want more than that. I need more than that.”

  He straightened. “Sex means something to me. Every woman I’m with is special to me. But since I’ve been with you, there’s been no one else.”

  That had to be a lie. “The woman from Vienna?”

  “We talked, and I left her with her bodyguards in the symphony hall lobby.”

  Relief passed over me, so complete I knew that redhead had lodged herself deep in my psyche. “Maybe once I see that it’s not a big deal, I won’t think about it that way.”

  “Think what’s not a big deal?”

  “Sex.”

  He swore in Gaelic. Then he stood, pacing, gesturing, and speaking in Gaelic. He stopped midsentence when he realized I couldn’t understand him. He crossed to me and knelt on the floor in front of me, taking my hands in his. “It is a big deal. Your first time should be special. Just because you’ve waited doesn’t mean you need to hurry now. There’s no clock ticking on finding the right person.”

  I squeezed my fingers around his. Indecision and confusion swirled inside me. “I have a plan. It’ll be fine.”

  Kieran’s gaze dropped to our joined hands. “You aren’t wearing my ring.”

  I had the ring on a chain around my neck. I reached into my shirt and withdrew it. “I am.”

  He held it between his thumb and forefinger. “Why not on your hand?”


  My throat grew tight and I wasn’t sure I could even speak the words. “I thought the ring meant something. Like I was your lover or your woman. But then I realized I’d made up a relationship in my head with someone who will never really be mine.”

  He closed his eyes. “When Glory said you were in trouble, do you know what I thought?”

  “That we’re friends and you’d come help me?”

  “I thought that I never should’ve left you alone, that you belonged with me where I could watch over you and keep you safe. That you wore my ring because we were together.”

  “Together?” I asked. That word could hold many meanings. I wanted him to assign a big meaning to it. Huge. Epic and important and never-ending.

  He unfastened the necklace and let the ring drop into his palm. “You were living with me. You were sleeping with me. My hands were on you. Inside you. You came with my name on your lips.”

  My body shook, the impact of the words strong on my heart. I wanted to tell him then. I love you, Kieran. Love you with every fiber of my being, with every ounce of strength I have. “I was yours.”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And you were mine,” I said. How could I have been so wrong?

  He took my left hand and slid the ring onto it. “Yes.” He dropped his forehead against mine, and our breaths mingled.

  He didn’t correct the past tense. I wanted to ask what we were now, but it was different. Things had shifted between us. I tilted my mouth and kissed him. Our mouths met, and I moaned against his lips. The heat between us scorched the air. His tongue stroked mine, and I angled my head, wanting more, to taste him, to pull him into me. I’d missed him.

  “Good kisser” didn’t begin to describe it. The firm and sweet caress of his lips on mine set my whole being on fire.

  He kissed my cheek, moved toward my ear, nibbled lightly on my lobe. “You want to make me insane, don’t you?”

  I put my hands on his face. “Not insane. I want you to care for me. I want you to love me.”

  He kissed me hard, a punishing kiss. “I do love you. You’re my best friend. I’ve told you that.”

  But he’d also admitted that he couldn’t commit, that we wanted different things, an unbridgeable divide. I slid my hands into his hair, letting the strands knot around my fingers. “But it’s not enough, is it?”

  “My love for you is true and deep. I want good things for you. I know you have an idea of romantic love. That you’ll meet a man and he’ll sweep you off your feet and have sex with you, and give you his children and spend his days worshiping you and being a husband and father. You know that I cannot be that man, right? I watched my parents’ marriage wreck both of them. I don’t know what a good marriage looks like. I tried it once, and I failed abysmally.”

  He knew me too well. I wanted those things. That hadn’t changed.

  For the last couple of months, I’d let myself pretend that I could change him. That he could give me those things. “I know.” The admission twisted my stomach, and pain tightened in my chest.

  “Tell me what I can do. I can see I’ve hurt you again. I never wanted us to get to this point where you pictured a future with me that I can’t give you.”

  Tears came to my eyes, and I blinked them away. “Will you pretend? Will you pretend for one night, for tonight, that you can be that man? That you can love me and be my world?”

  He touched the ring on my finger. “Will pretending make it better?”

  If I had one night with him, one night where I could tell myself we were a couple, would I feel better? I imagined I would. “Yes.”

  “Then, Rae, tonight you are my lover, my girlfriend, my world.”

  We were playing a dangerous game, but I needed this night. My heart pounded insanely fast, and my entire body thrummed with energy.

  One night.

  “I need to get ready,” I said. “I’ll be back.”

  If he thought my abrupt departure was weird, he didn’t comment on it. I returned to my room, showered, shaved, and put on my best matching lingerie, then pulled my clothes on over it. I hadn’t needed to do those things, but I’d needed the time to clear my head and decide on this path, to be sure I wanted it. In his arms, in his presence, I could too easily let myself do anything, no matter the consequences to my heart.

  When I tapped on his door, he opened it wearing just jeans, the top button undone. “Do you want dinner? I could order room service.”

  My chest heaved, and nervous energy skittered from my head to my limbs. He’d said it so casually, I was startled. I didn’t want room service. I wanted to be with him, alone with him. The sun faded in the sky, and the room was cast with shadows.

  “I’m not hungry.” I walked to the bed and climbed in.

  He got in on the other side, and I hurried to be close to his body.

  He touched the hair at my temple. “You’re beautiful.”

  He kissed me softly, slowly, and with every brush of his lips, I relaxed into it. I put my hands on his chest and stroked his hot, bare skin. As he explored my mouth, the kiss grew in intensity and my nervousness drifted away. We’d done this before, and I knew I’d made the right decision coming to his room, eyes and possibilities open.

  The clock moved too fast. One night. I wanted this to last forever, and anticipation made it hard to breathe.

  I shifted astride him and rocked my hips, mimicking what I wanted. His hard cock strained against his jeans, the rigid length protruding against the denim. His arms closed around me, and being tucked against him elevated my lust. We’d fooled around so often, he knew my body well.

  He pressed hot kisses along my neck. “We should slow down. This will be over too fast.”

  I angled my head, letting him lick and suck the places I liked best. “I’ve waited weeks. Months. Years. I don’t want to go slow.”

  A low rumble of laughter shook his chest. “The first time, you want to be fast. I’ll do what I can to oblige.”

  He tugged off my clothes, and I pulled away his pants and tossed them onto the floor.

  He touched my hips. “Blue. I like blue.”

  The color of my matching lingerie, a blue corset tied in the front and a matching thong. His eyes lingered on my breasts spilling from the top.

  He unthreaded the satin ribbon and let the front of the lace part. Cupping my breasts, he kissed them, sucking on each nipple. I moaned, hot for him, and wished we were already there, him buried fully inside me. He pinched my nipples, following up with his lips, and I strained against him.

  I wanted to race, and I wanted this to last all night.

  Then he untied the corners of my panties, and those were tossed away too. We were naked, no boundaries between us.

  He took a condom from the bedside table. I knelt over him and took him in my hand. My fingers couldn’t close around him as I squeezed his thickness and moved my hand up and down. I ran my fingers over the tip, spreading the drop of moisture around the head. I did a couple of test pumps, amazed at the combination of steel and softness in my palm.

  He wrapped his hand around mine and pumped harder and faster. He lengthened and, if possible, grew harder. After rolling on the condom, he tossed the wrapper to the floor.

  I guided him closer to me, not entirely sure how to communicate what I needed. “I don’t want to do it this way.”

  He flipped me onto my back and ran his fingers through my hair. His weight pinned me to the bed, and his cock rested between my thighs as he delivered a soul-searing kiss. “Is this what you want?”

  I wiggled to bring him closer. “Yes, more of this. Please.”

  He moved his cock between my legs, parting me without pushing inside. “Don’t worry about anything. Let me love you. Let me do the things I’ve imagined a thousand times. Don’t make me hold anything back.” He slipped a finger between my legs and sucked his breath between his teeth. “You are so wet and tight. This is going to feel amazing. If I do anything to hurt you, tell me, and I’ll stop.”


  I put my arms trustingly around his neck and let my fingers twist into the back of his hair. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”

  He shifted over me and positioned himself between my legs, then nudged at my opening. “Let me inside you.”

  Tension wound through me, and my muscles squeezed tight. Tears of love came to my eyes. I wanted him so much, wanted this between us. My love for him consumed me.

  He pressed his thumb against my entrance, pressing down lightly, trying to relax me. “Deep breath.”

  I inhaled, and then his cock started to push inside me. I gripped his shoulders.

  He hissed out a breath. “It’s okay. I’m going slow.”

  I realized I was whimpering. It didn’t hurt, just stretched…and felt good too. He rocked inside me, and the more I relaxed, the discomfort drifted away and the sensations increased.

  Where we were joined, the head was inside me.

  He kissed me, his lips soft and pliant, and his hand massaged my breast. When his fingers tweaked my nipples, it sent a jolt between my legs. His mouth moved over mine, nibbling, moving down my neck to the place where I loved for him to suck lightly. His thighs parted mine more as he settled between my legs, keeping the rhythm, building the tension, so tender and poignant.

  I’d almost forgotten about him pushing deeper when he surged forward.

  I cried out and I reflexively arched away, trying to push him out. “Too much. It’s too much.”

  His arms banded around me. “Shhhh, you’re okay. Let me make love to you. Let me make you feel good, ’cause this feels amazing for me. You’re tight and hot.” He started to move then. “Look at me inside you. Look how you wrap around me.”

  I bent my head to see him, surging inside me, and I shivered. “It’s not all the way.”

  He nudged my chin up, and our eyes locked. “Watch me while I love you. You feel so good. We’ll get there.”

  I lifted my eyes, and that connection took over. As he moved, the discomfort subsided and pleasure consumed me. He rocked his hips insistently.