Rhapsody (Butcher and Violinist 1)

He cupped my cheek. “But that still doesn’t explain why I’m obsessed. You were brighter than the sun. The moon in the sky. And I was so dark. Shattered. You’re a gift. One that I want to unwrap every day.”

All I could whisper was, “Jean-Pierre.”

And then he kissed me. Consuming my soul and drawing me deeper into him. After his confession, his kisses had grown more passionate. My heart boomed at the thought, even if I couldn’t fully understand it. He did something to me, and I did something to him. And these next days would be us figuring out what that was, and if it was enough.

Needing him so bad, I gently pulled at his hair.

Jean-Pierre broke our kiss, hit me with an intense gaze, and then he buried his face in my hair. “I’m sorry, Eden. If I could go back, I would try and do something differently. I at least would’ve never gone into your apartment.”

I leaned back. “My mother used to always say, ‘Hindsight is 20/20.’ It’s always easy to say what we wouldn’t have done, once we’ve done it.”

“Still.” He landed a kiss on the curve of my neck. “I don’t want to lose you, not when we’re just getting to know each other.”

“I still want to get to know you, Jean-Pierre. I’m just trying to figure out how we will do it.”

“Then, take your time.”

And there, Jean-Pierre and I remained for several minutes. Locked in each other’s arms. The silence of the hallway surrounded us. I didn’t know what ran through his mind, but I was happy to be in his hold.

From his confession, my life felt like it was slipping and falling away from me. His embrace held me together for those few moments.

Jean-Pierre moved away a little and kissed me again. This time he caressed my back, drawing circles along my back as if he was playing me. “Serez-vous à moi?”

He slipped his fingers higher, tangling them in my hair and tugging my head back. “Je ne sais pas si je peux t’éloigner de toi.”

I leaned away and translated what he’d said, “You don’t know if you can let me go?”

“I don’t.”

Our gazes locked. Fire blazed from his.

“Again, I want to be as honest as possible.” He tugged my head back some more and lapped at the curve of my neck. The sensual attention gave me no time to process his statement. “I’m going to fight to be with you, Eden.”

A shiver ran up my spine.

My body continued to heat for him.

He devoured me, and all I could do was let him. If there’d ever been a part of me that was having second thoughts or cold to him, it was now warm. He’d melted it away.

We stood in the hallway, and I was lost in him. We could’ve been in Belladonna or the Eiffel Tower and it wouldn’t have mattered. I let go. Of my fears. My questions. My inhibitions.

“Let’s try this,” I whispered. “I… can’t walk away from you either, Jean-Pierre. Although I don’t have the power like you to make me stay, I…would do everything to keep you around. Even though I’m still confused about everything. Even though I’m still. . .scared of who you are.”

“I would keep it away from you.”

“Still…let’s try.”

“I’ll take it.” He kissed me hard, swallowing down any response I could’ve came up with. And then in a rush, he lifted me up into his arms, opened the door, and carried me in. “Are you hungry?”

“No. I want you.”

He groaned as he rushed pass a beautifully decorated table. Staff jumped out of his way. A few had been lighting candles near the buffet table.

Jean-Pierre didn’t pause or say anything to anyone.

We got to his room and stood outside the door.

He let me down. “Hmmm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you were coming into this room tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t sure you were coming to dinner, and this room. . .has something in it that I’d planned long ago.”

I stared at the closed door. “What’s in there?”

“When you were in Belladonna and I was dealing with things, I kept imagining you in this contraption.”

I raised my eyebrows. “What sort of contraption?”

He opened the door.

I walked inside.

It was a big room which I expected with Jean-Pierre. But in the center of the space, a large swing dangled from the ceiling. Long cords had been attached to it and the ceiling.

Shocked, I walked up to it. The swing stopped above my navel. If I climbed into it, I would be at his waist.

Jean-Pierre got behind me and pressed his hard cock against my behind. “I was supposed to bring you in here, after the Louvre.”

“But then you decided to confess.”

“And ruined everything.”

“Or saved it all. Although my life has exploded, I’m happy that you told me. I feel more confident about. . .us.”