Treasure Me by Cunning Olivia

Author:Cunning, Olivia [Cunning, Olivia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Music, Contemporary, Adult
ISBN: 9781939276292
Amazon: B071VCCZZK
Goodreads: 35053246
Publisher: Vulpine Press LLC
Published: 2017-05-30T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Kellen woke to the beautiful sound of stirring piano music. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, his gaze unfocused as he let the sound wash over him. It wasn’t an original Dawn O’Reilly composition—the sequence of notes wasn’t arousing enough to be hers—but she was the one playing the piano piece that filled the house with music. He’d know that tone, that skill, anywhere, even if he’d had to pick her playing out of a thousand virtuosos. He could tell it was her by the aggression of her playing, the way one note blended seamlessly into the next, and the way shivers raced down his spine each time she transitioned into a new stanza. She was a rare artist. He could have listened to her play all day or all night. The inky darkness outside gave no hint to the time, but it had to be either very late or incredibly early.

When the music ended, he took a deep breath and held it, anticipating more. Longing for more. When the first note of the next song greeted his ears, a spasm clenched his abdomen and he released a tortured gasp. Lord, what her playing did to him. He’d never been a huge fan of classical piano until Dawn.

At the end of the next song, the piano fell silent and he waited in breathless anticipation for the next to begin. When it didn’t start at once, he sat up in the bed. When minutes passed and he heard nothing but the muted sounds of the crashing waves outside, he climbed from the mattress and padded to the upper landing, straining for sounds of her. He took the steps slowly, one at a time, listening. When an almost imperceptible tinkling of the piano keys greeted his ears, he paused about halfway down the stairs. He stood there for a long moment, letting the slowly building music wash over him, and when the bones went out of his legs, he sat right there on the stairs, closed his eyes, and relaxed into her sound. Rock music invigorated him, and he’d always be a fan, but this . . . this music, this sound, made him feel something deeper, something magical, some connection outside of himself.

He almost wished he wasn’t currently on tour so he could follow her to Prague and watch her perform. Would it be difficult to sit among an audience who would be as enraptured by her as he was? Or would it make him proud that she’d chosen him? That he knew her. That he’d touched her, kissed her, made love to her.

When that piece ended, he heard her sigh.

“Again, Dawn,” she said, as if coaching herself. She played the same piece over from the start, and if it was any different from her first run-through, his ear wasn’t trained well enough to pick up any variances. She paused about halfway through a particularly rapid series of notes and played the same measures again and again before finally moving on.

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