A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

“What are you doing here?” I whispered in a sleepy voice.

“I came back early.” He didn’t kiss me, just hovered his lips over mine while our breath mingled.

“What time is it?” My hands moved of their own free will up the swells of his chest, over his shoulders, and around his neck. A shiver rocked his large frame.

“Four thirty.”

“Who flies at this hour?”

“Someone who owns a jet.”

“Oh.” My heart sank a little. Most of the time I managed to forget how truly wealthy he was.

“Why is your phone turned off?” Even though I could scarcely make out the outline of his features, I knew him too well to be deceived by the bland tone in his voice. He was annoyed.

“Because I was mad at you, that’s why.”

“Mad?” He chuckled. “At what?”

“Isabelle showed everyone the tabloids yesterday. There’s a very nice picture of you with that Ethiopian model. Everyone thought you made a very striking couple.” I sounded petulant, even to myself.

“You know that’s strictly publicity. She’s eighteen years old for fuck’s sake.”

“So?”

“So, I was discussing the futures markets with a colleague and she asked me the name of the psychic I use,” he explained.

I bit my lip trying to suppress a bubble of laughter. “She’s young.”

“Yes, she is.”

“She should probably get an education,” I added.

“Probably.”

“I love you.”

“I missed you,” he murmured tenderly, the words smothered by his kiss.

His hands were all over me, as if he suddenly had more than two. I fumbled with his belt, his zipper, while he ripped the covers back and pushed me down on the bed. It was unbelievably erotic, not being able to see anything, having to feel our way. All my other senses heightened to HD quality in the absence of sight. I could literally smell the pheromones pouring out of him. My skin was so hypersensitive feeling his breath on it sent sharp electrical impulses directly to my female parts. He kicked off his pants, pulled his shirt over his head, and in his haste ripped something. I giggled as he clumsily tried to get his large body on my tiny twin bed. We banged knees. He swore. I laughed. And when we were finally both naked, facing each other, plastered to one another, he paused.

“I love you so much,” he said in a voice filled with raw passion. “I don’t…I don’t ever want to be apart from you. I was counting the minutes ‘til I got home.”

Hearing those words spoken with such conviction gave me the courage to tell him everything. He kissed me, worshipped my body, and made love to me by stealth. I cried the whole time––don’t know why. I guess it felt different, like we were about to take a giant step into the unknown. He wiped the silent tears from my face after coming with deep, powerful thrusts.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why the tears?”

Baby? He was going to make me cry again. Sweet man.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been hysterical lately. I don’t know why, maybe stress. I’m never this emotional.” Sweet, fortifying kisses peppered my mouth. “I have to tell you something, and I…I think I should do it now. Maybe it will be easier in the dark, without you looking at me,” I said quietly.

“Nothing you say could ever change the way I feel about you.” The deep rumble of his voice soothed me––everything about him soothed me.

“Let’s save that edict until after you’ve heard the story.” I took a deep breath and began. “My father killed himself six and half years ago. I’m the one that found him. He hung himself in his office at the University of Tirana, with a lamp extension cord.”

“Jeeeezuz, I’m sorry, baby.” He stroked my face reassuringly, encouraging me to continue.

“My father was the dean of the university for many years. He was very well respected for most of them…until the scandal.”

A vision of my father stole through my mind; his lean form behind the simple, steel desk in his office, the glasses slipping down his nose, the grey streaks at his temple highlighting his high cheekbones. God, I missed him.

Sebastian didn’t stir so I continued. “Someone tipped the minister of finance that funds being issued to the university were being redirected.”

“Embezzled?”

“Yes. The only person capable of that was my father. He had access to the money and was responsible for allocating the funds to the various departments. A trial date was set but he killed himself shortly before it began.”

There was a weighty moment of silence before he spoke. “I’m really sorry about your father but––”

“There’s more…the money was wired to an offshore account in my name.” Silence, not even an intake of breath. I rushed through the rest of the story, anxious to rip the scab off quickly. “I fled before they could investigate me. I had already applied and received a student visa from Italy. I had planned on getting my medical degree there for a long time. But things where escalating quickly and I couldn’t risk a trial so I fled…in the middle of the night…like a thief.” My heart was pounding viciously. He must’ve heard it because he placed his large, warm hand on my chest and rubbed gently. “I can’t risk you getting caught up in this mess. You’re too high profile, too important to the bank. That’s why we can’t let anybody know we’re together. It could hurt you in a million different ways.”