This place must be enchanted. Or maybe I’m just cursed.
Because there is no reason that I should fall under his spell…
Closing my eyes, I allow the cello to once again be my voice.
To say all the things I can’t say. To feel all the things I can’t feel.
The music flows through me, and I am finally home in myself. The cello speaks to my heart in a way that nothing else can. It is a part of me, and I cannot imagine my life without it.
Gideon gave this back to me.
And I’m not sure how I feel about that.
Who is this man?
Is he the criminal? Or my savior?
23
GIDEON
The smellof lavender wafts through the air, and I have to admit…it’s enticing.
I allow it to take over my senses, enjoying the warmth of the body flush against me. Without another thought, I pull her closer to me, wanting to feel her soft skin against mine. To allow her scent to imprint on me for life.
This might be the best dream I’ve had in some time.
The woman melts into me, and I nuzzle my nose into her neck.
A sigh escapes her mouth, and my eyes fly open.
Sasha.
It wasn’t a dream.
She’s in my arms. Curled up against me. Her face is buried into my chest, leg drooped over me. She wiggles against me, her hand creeping up my chest.
I need to stop this.
Not because I haven’t dreamed about this very thing, but because Sasha is asleep. When I have her, I want her to be wide awake and more than willing.
She moans softly as she presses against me, and my dick grows hard.
“Sasha,” I groan, losing my willpower with every sound she makes.
She goes still in my arms, head lifting, eyes meeting mine. She blinks several times, likely clearing the fog caused by sleep. And that’s when things sink in.
“What are you doing?” she shouts as she jumps from the bed as if it’s on fire.
Fuck. She’s pissed, and something tells me she isn’t going to buy that I was trying to stop things.
Her shoulders rise and fall with her breaths, and for the first time in my life, I feel heaviness in my chest for the way she’s looking at me.
I know she’s angry that I touched her, but it wasn’t like she’s thinking.
“I’m sorry, firefly. Believe it or not, I was dreaming.”
Her arms are crossed over her chest, as if to shield herself from me. “Sure,” she snaps. “I’m sure you were dreaming.” She air quotes dreaming.