King of Hearts
Page 47
“Everything’s been finalised.”
A silence elapsed. I leaned a little too hard against the piano, an off-key sound ringing out. I shot King an apologetic look and remembered again how beautifully he played. Our eyes locked for several moments, feelings passing back and forth but no words.
“Play something for me,” I urged him.
His eyes went to the keys before returning to mine. “What would you like to hear?”
“Anything.”
I stood back as he twisted around and ran his fingers across the ivories.
And then, just like that, he began to play.
Thirteen
The tune started out low and soft, but quickly sped up. It became faster, louder, until his fingers were dancing over the keys in a way that knocked the breath from my lungs. I’d expected him to play a little rendition of a modern song, something simple, romantic maybe. But this, this was on another stratosphere, and I knew from his skill that he played it often. Unlike the piano here at Hirota’s, the one King had at his apartment was definitely not for show.
He was playing the exact same piece as he had at his apartment that night. Almost unconsciously, I lowered myself onto the bench beside him, both my eyes and my ears enraptured as he continued the melody. In that moment he was transformed; his entire body was at one with the instrument as he filled the room with perfect, heart-aching, sweet and soulful music.
I fell.
I’d already started falling, but the way he played finished the job. It was so beautiful in its realness that I couldn’t help but be owned by him. Elaine King had obviously passed her talent down to her son, and it was almost a tragedy that this wasn’t what he did all day, every day.
I wasn’t sure how long he had been playing when the piece finally drew to a close. I sat there, staring at the piano in stunned silence, as he turned to face me.
“Why so quiet, darling?” he asked, taking my chin between his fingers.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“So say nothing.” His mouth went to my jaw as he gave me a feather-light kiss.
“What was that song?”
King sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s Rachmaninoff, Piano Concerto No. 2. It’s the last piece my mother ever played to a live audience.”
And just like that, it all made sense. The piece was clearly very special to him.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasted as a banker. This is what you should be doing,” I stated outright.
King laughed gently. “I think I told you before that Mum is the star. Pianists are ten a penny in this world, and that’s usually how much they make for a living, too.” His joke fell flat.
“I thought you didn’t care about money.”
“I don’t. I care about prestige, and my mediocre piano skills will never bring me that.”
“Mediocre? Are you serious?”
His low, affectionate laughter did something to the pit of my stomach. Well, it was the laughter combined with the music he’d just played. His fingers were trailing up my thigh, finding the hem of my skirt and dipping beneath when I spoke without thinking.
“Make love to me,” I blurted.
King’s gaze grew heated, and his mouth was at my ear again, whispering a single word, “Love?” The second it left his lips, his finger slid past my underwear and right inside me. My breath came out in a rush.
His voice grew dark. “One day I’m going to spread you out on my piano at home and fuck you until you forget your own name.”
Jesus Christ. “Oliver.”
“You’re so wet.”
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed around the room, and King instantly withdrew, leaving me feeling empty. A member of Hirota’s household staff cleared her throat.
“Mr King, the car is waiting to take you both back to the hotel.”
“Yes, very good. Thank you,” King replied smoothly, and stood. I walked alongside him back to the same limo we’d arrived in. As soon as the door closed, King pressed the button for the privacy screen, and then he was climbing on top of me. He pushed me back so that I lay stretched out on the seat, his hard body over mine as his hand returned to where it had been before we were interrupted. I threw my head back and tried not to make a sound for fear of alerting the driver to what we were doing. King shot me a devilish grin. The bastard. He knew exactly what he was up to.
His fingers slid in and out of me fast, working me up into a heated frenzy. My hands were already fumbling for his pants, desperate to get them off. All day my mind had been fixating on last night, my body wanting more. Within seconds I had him free as I ran my hand down the hot, silky length of him. He felt beautiful, perfect, and right then I wanted all of that perfect beauty deep inside me.
His entire body shuddered as I fisted him, and his face fell to my neck as some realisation lit in his eyes.
“I didn’t bring protection,” he groaned.
Well, shit.
“Oh.”
“The journey back to the hotel won’t take long. We can wait,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. Our eyes connected, and I knew instantly that we were both thinking the same thing.
Should we risk it?
“I’m on the pill,” I blurted. It was the truth. I’d been taking it for years and hadn’t stopped even after Stu and I broke up.
His gaze held a warning. “Don’t.”
“I trust you.”
He groaned again. “Fucking hell.”
A silence elapsed. I leaned a little too hard against the piano, an off-key sound ringing out. I shot King an apologetic look and remembered again how beautifully he played. Our eyes locked for several moments, feelings passing back and forth but no words.
“Play something for me,” I urged him.
His eyes went to the keys before returning to mine. “What would you like to hear?”
“Anything.”
I stood back as he twisted around and ran his fingers across the ivories.
And then, just like that, he began to play.
Thirteen
The tune started out low and soft, but quickly sped up. It became faster, louder, until his fingers were dancing over the keys in a way that knocked the breath from my lungs. I’d expected him to play a little rendition of a modern song, something simple, romantic maybe. But this, this was on another stratosphere, and I knew from his skill that he played it often. Unlike the piano here at Hirota’s, the one King had at his apartment was definitely not for show.
He was playing the exact same piece as he had at his apartment that night. Almost unconsciously, I lowered myself onto the bench beside him, both my eyes and my ears enraptured as he continued the melody. In that moment he was transformed; his entire body was at one with the instrument as he filled the room with perfect, heart-aching, sweet and soulful music.
I fell.
I’d already started falling, but the way he played finished the job. It was so beautiful in its realness that I couldn’t help but be owned by him. Elaine King had obviously passed her talent down to her son, and it was almost a tragedy that this wasn’t what he did all day, every day.
I wasn’t sure how long he had been playing when the piece finally drew to a close. I sat there, staring at the piano in stunned silence, as he turned to face me.
“Why so quiet, darling?” he asked, taking my chin between his fingers.
“I don’t know what to say.”
“So say nothing.” His mouth went to my jaw as he gave me a feather-light kiss.
“What was that song?”
King sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s Rachmaninoff, Piano Concerto No. 2. It’s the last piece my mother ever played to a live audience.”
And just like that, it all made sense. The piece was clearly very special to him.
“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasted as a banker. This is what you should be doing,” I stated outright.
King laughed gently. “I think I told you before that Mum is the star. Pianists are ten a penny in this world, and that’s usually how much they make for a living, too.” His joke fell flat.
“I thought you didn’t care about money.”
“I don’t. I care about prestige, and my mediocre piano skills will never bring me that.”
“Mediocre? Are you serious?”
His low, affectionate laughter did something to the pit of my stomach. Well, it was the laughter combined with the music he’d just played. His fingers were trailing up my thigh, finding the hem of my skirt and dipping beneath when I spoke without thinking.
“Make love to me,” I blurted.
King’s gaze grew heated, and his mouth was at my ear again, whispering a single word, “Love?” The second it left his lips, his finger slid past my underwear and right inside me. My breath came out in a rush.
His voice grew dark. “One day I’m going to spread you out on my piano at home and fuck you until you forget your own name.”
Jesus Christ. “Oliver.”
“You’re so wet.”
The sound of approaching footsteps echoed around the room, and King instantly withdrew, leaving me feeling empty. A member of Hirota’s household staff cleared her throat.
“Mr King, the car is waiting to take you both back to the hotel.”
“Yes, very good. Thank you,” King replied smoothly, and stood. I walked alongside him back to the same limo we’d arrived in. As soon as the door closed, King pressed the button for the privacy screen, and then he was climbing on top of me. He pushed me back so that I lay stretched out on the seat, his hard body over mine as his hand returned to where it had been before we were interrupted. I threw my head back and tried not to make a sound for fear of alerting the driver to what we were doing. King shot me a devilish grin. The bastard. He knew exactly what he was up to.
His fingers slid in and out of me fast, working me up into a heated frenzy. My hands were already fumbling for his pants, desperate to get them off. All day my mind had been fixating on last night, my body wanting more. Within seconds I had him free as I ran my hand down the hot, silky length of him. He felt beautiful, perfect, and right then I wanted all of that perfect beauty deep inside me.
His entire body shuddered as I fisted him, and his face fell to my neck as some realisation lit in his eyes.
“I didn’t bring protection,” he groaned.
Well, shit.
“Oh.”
“The journey back to the hotel won’t take long. We can wait,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. Our eyes connected, and I knew instantly that we were both thinking the same thing.
Should we risk it?
“I’m on the pill,” I blurted. It was the truth. I’d been taking it for years and hadn’t stopped even after Stu and I broke up.
His gaze held a warning. “Don’t.”
“I trust you.”
He groaned again. “Fucking hell.”
