The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient 1)
He rested his hands on her shoulders and brushed a kiss over her nape. “It’s beautiful, but so sad. Do you know anything happier?”
Sad. Her lips wrinkled on something that didn’t feel like a smile. That was a common theme for the pieces in her repertoire. “Well . . . maybe this.”
She bit her lip and picked the familiar melody from the piano, wondering if this was what he meant by happy.
He surprised her by sitting down on the bench next to her and saying, “I thought ‘Heart and Soul’ was a duet.”
She shrugged. “I’ve only ever played it solo.”
He captured her right hand and put it in his lap. A smile curved over his lips as he nodded his head toward the keyboard.
“You play?” she asked.
“Only a little, but I know this one.”
Breathlessness overtook her. Her fingers stumbled on the first notes, but she got into the swing of it pretty quickly. The bass half of the song was a simple repetition, a pattern, and second nature for her. When Michael wove the melody seamlessly with her accompaniment, startling warmth cascaded up her spine, and her body flushed with pleasure. She’d never played a duet with someone other than her piano instructor, and those occasions had been technical exercises, nothing special.
“You’re good at this,” she commented, glancing up at him as she continued to play.
His smile widened, but he kept his attention on his fingers. “With six of us wanting the piano at once, we had to learn to share. Also, none of us could ever figure out how to play your half with only one hand. You’re really good.”
“It’s just practice.” And necessity.
The sight of their hands side by side on the keys mesmerized Stella. The contrast was stark and beautiful: large to small, tan to pale, masculine to feminine. So different, but in perfect rhythm. They were making music. Together.
The song ended, and she let her fingers slip away from the keyboard and averted her eyes. That naked feeling was back.
He kissed her neck and smoothed his fingers along her jaw before gently urging her to meet his gaze. She thought he would speak, but he didn’t. He only smiled.
She wanted to ask if he liked being with her, if he liked this, but she struggled to muster the courage. What if he said no?
“Are you hungry? Let’s eat,” he said, and the moment disappeared.
She’d ask him later. After she’d had the opportunity to appropriately seduce him.
{ CHAP+ER }
21
A week later, Stella still had no idea what she was doing in terms of seducing Michael. He seemed happy—she knew she was—but the end of their first month was coming up, and she had no confidence that he’d want to sign on for more.
That night, his mom was having her over for dinner again. Stella racked her brain for clever ways she might ask his family for advice regarding Michael. If anyone knew him, it would be them. But how could she ask without them suspecting something was strange about her relationship with Michael? They thought she and Michael were dating for real.
As he’d instructed her to do, Stella let herself into his mom’s house and set her shoes against the wall next to Michael’s. Her black heels looked tiny next to his leather loafers, but she liked seeing them sitting next to each other. It pleased her on a fundamental level.
She placed a box of pears on the front table next to the bronze Buddha, and grunts and heavy breathing drew her attention to the sitting room to the right. She padded over and stared at a pretzel formation of limbs on the carpet by the upright piano. It seemed to contain Michael and another girl. Stella would have been jealous, but the whole ordeal looked really uncomfortable.
“Just give up and say it,” Michael gritted out.
“No, I had that armbar. You only got out because of your steroid abuse.”
“I do not use steroids, and you only got the armbar because I didn’t want to crush your boobs.”
“Going for your balls next time.”
Looking closer, Stella saw they both had their arms locked around each other’s throats. Like anacondas in a death match, neither was willing to let go.
“Maybe call it a draw?” Stella suggested.