She touched him with her music on a visceral level. And he couldn’t be the only one. She had a gift, one that went beyond the novelty appeal of a small child at a big piano.
Ethan had no doubt she would regain that indefinable thing she needed to go on. The adoration of the crowd, her photo in the tabloids.
And he would have Grey’s Resorts. A chance to watch his father’s world broken into pieces, as Damien Grey had broken so many others. Maybe somewhere in that he would find some kind of satisfaction. Bloody perfect.
But those goals, goals that had obsessed him since he’d been a teenager, seemed strangely insignificant when he thought of his encounters with Noelle. And not just the moment in the hotel room, but the kiss on the boardwalk. Something so small, really. Something that wouldn’t have mattered with any other woman.
The kiss was just a prelude, usually. It was never a main event in and of itself. Kissing Noelle was different. Suddenly, he wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath.
Of course, the point of the party was to flaunt their relationship and promote their upcoming marriage, so maybe taking her into the garden to make out wouldn’t be the most inappropriate thing.
He was strongly considering it when Sylvie approached them again, a much older man in tow. “Noelle, will you please play something? I know it’s your party, but you’re so amazing, and I was just telling Jacques how good you are. He’s never had the pleasure of hearing you play live.”
Jacques inclined his head. “I am a fan. It would be an honor.”
Noelle looked at Ethan, her eyes bright with nerves and excitement. “Do you suppose the band would mind if I played something, just for a moment?”
Ethan shook his head, his body tight with frustration. “It’s your party.”
He watched as she wove through the crowd, a bright spot amid the sea of customary New York black. Golden hair, pale skin, silken red dress. She was a force of color and light that was impossible to ignore as she made her way to the stage.
And once she was there, sitting behind the piano, she commanded every eye in the room to watch her.
She put her hands on the piano and he swore he felt her fingertips on his body. Long, elegant fingers caressing the keys, easy to imagine them on his skin. She started playing a piece he recognized, one he’d heard in department stores many times. Something from one of her old albums, he assumed. But actually hearing it in person, watching her perform it, was a totally new experience.
It was so fluid. Smooth. Pure perfection.
And he felt as if it was only for him. Not for anyone else in the room. His chest tightened, breathing became a little harder as arousal assaulted him, flooded him.
Each note was a caress, the flow and rhythm of the song like making love, hard and fast then slow and sweet. Everything he wanted to do with her, everything he dreamed of, put out in the open, forcing him to confront it.
She lifted her head and looked into the crowd, looked at him. Her eyes locked with his as she continued to play, her entire body moving with the effort she put into playing, every part of her involved in her performance.
She would move like that in bed. Perfection. With passion, with all of herself.
He tightened his jaw, and the strain on his muscles was a welcome distraction from the desire that was pounding through him. The last thing he needed was for some photog to snap a picture of him sporting a hard-on over his fiancée’s performance.
Of course, it would lend authenticity to the whole thing.
He frowned. He didn’t like thinking of it that way. Didn’t want to bring the agreement into this, because this was real. His desire for her felt more real than anything in his recent memory. His past affairs had all gone hazy thanks to the passage of time, but he truly didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused by a woman who was more than a hundred feet away.
He wasn’t the only one enthralled by her. Everyone was mesmerized, savoring every note, existing for the next. Captive audience didn’t even begin to describe it.
She had brought everyone in to her for a moment, let them all feel what was inside her. And, as the last note faded in the ballroom, the emotion lingered. At least it lingered in him. Everyone around him was applauding and he found that he couldn’t. He wanted more. To hear more. To feel more.
But he couldn’t have more. He wouldn’t. Only this small indulgence. This window into her, into himself.
“She’s amazing.” This came from Jacques. The Frenchman was watching Noelle, his dark eyes shining, his mouth curved into a smile. Ethan wanted to hit him.
Unexpected and a little bit cavemanish. And yet, he was unrepentant.
“And she’s mine,” Ethan said, walking away from Sylvie and Jacques, weaving through the crowd and up to the stage, just in time to take Noelle’s hand as she descended the steps.
“Was it okay?” she asked.
“Amazing.” He bent his head and kissed her. Just part of the show. A necessary act that had no place lighting his body on fire.
When they parted, he was still having trouble breathing, his body tight with need.
“Amazing,” she whispered.
“Let’s hope this party ends soon,” he said, his voice rough. Because he needed distance. He needed to send her back to her suite and he needed to get home to a very cold shower.
Walking away was the only option. But for the first time, he wondered if he had the strength to do it.
The kiss at the party had changed something. Or maybe it wasn’t the kiss, maybe it was the performance. Or maybe it was both. Either way, the moment Ethan’s lips had touched hers Noelle had made a decision.
She was going to have Ethan Grey. For a night, a few weeks, whatever, she was going to have what she wanted. With him.
Tonight she’d played. For her. And for everyone else. Without permission. And it had been amazing. The best feeling she could remember ever having on stage. It made her want more. Not just from Ethan, but from life. Why look ahead to the day she would get the house, shutting out everything else on the way? There was too much living to do between now and then.
She’d spent her whole life with tunnel vision. Play the piano. Be famous. Be brilliant. Everything else shut down and ignored.
But since meeting Ethan she’d discovered other things. Data entry and desire and a day at the beach. And she wanted more of that. Tonight, she was determined to have it.
Ethan stopped at the door of the hotel room. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Wait.” Good or bad, it was out of her mouth now. All she could do was commit and go forward. Or change the subject. Tell him he had lint on his coat? No. This wasn’t the time to lose her nerve, or to worry about what he might think. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t be scared forever. And she wouldn’t be scared now.
His eyes were nearly black in the shadow of the hall. “That might not be the best idea.”
“I want to … play for you. The song I started in Australia. I want you to hear it.”
He hesitated, his hands curled into fists, a muscle in his jaw shifting.
“Ethan …”
He took one step into the room. The tense lines in his body, the pronounced tendons in the backs of his hands, were proof of just how tightly he was hanging on to his control and told her that he knew what she was really asking.
And that by coming in, he hadn’t committed to saying yes.
The risk of rejection was high. A little bit scary. But a lot worth it. Because Ethan