Page 97 of Dark Notes

Holding my head against his thrusts, he slides the other hand over my stomach and hooks two fingers inside me, sparking a needy clench through my inner muscles.

“Not gonna last long.” His sharp breaths husk the air. “We’re doing this together.”

He shifts his touch to my tender clit and applies a solid, rolling pressure. My hips reach for it, grinding and rocking against his fingers. Right there, right there.

A spasm of tingling heat explodes beneath his diabolical caress.

He jerks against my tongue, his forehead falling against my chest as he strokes us into a moaning, trembling orgasmic duet.

I greedily swallow his release, panting beneath the wave of my own. His cock twitches against my lips, and my inner thighs quiver through the remnant aftershocks of orgasm number seven.

He tucks himself away and frees the shackles, lifting and moving me, limb by melted limb. I hang like a rag doll in his arms as he carries me to the piano bench and arranges my legs in a straddling position around his waist.

I slump against him, chest to chest, skin on skin, and hug his broad shoulders. “That was the worst torture ever.”

Chuckling, he kisses my cheek and reaches behind me, fingers on the keyboard. With a deep breath, he envelops us in a gentle song, tranquilizing my hammering heart with Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb.”

I curl up against him, soaking in the flex and sway of his body as he plays. The tempo of his breaths synchronizes with the melody, pacing my own. His skin, so soft and warm, smells woodsy and masculine and safe. I bury my nose against his neck and fill my lungs.

With my arms and legs hooked around him, I cling to the pillar of his torso. This brutal man is my home. His hell is my heaven.

I’m his Ivory, and he’s my darkest note.

No matter what happens, I will never resent this. I’ll never regret him.

He closes the song on a low, deep key and slides his strong hands across my back, massaging my spine.

Hugging me tighter against his chest, he lowers his lips to my shoulder, his tone quiet, gentle. “I didn’t know she was pregnant until after…”

After Shreveport. After her betrayal.

I kiss his neck and run my fingers through his hair as bitterness flares inside me.

“She’s seven months along.” He breathes in, out. “The baby could be mine. Or not.”

I lift my head and find his stark eyes. “Do you think…?”

He blinks, his expression conflicted. “I don’t know. There was never an indication of cheating, and I’m pretty fucking observant.”

Hard to argue that. “Then why do you question it?”

He tucks my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my jaw. “I never thought she would betray me the way she did. If she can do that…”

“She could cheat.”

He lowers his hand to stroke my hip, his eyes following the movement. “When I took over Shreveport, I worked long hours. Day and night. I was rarely home.”

She could’ve been doing anything during that time. With anyone. Maybe he wasn’t so observant back then?

I swallow around the ache in my throat. “Why was she at the clinic today?”

His gaze lifts to mine. “I’ve been ignoring her messages. Only way she knows how to find me is through my dad.”

“What does she want?” My voice shakes with fragile nerves. “To reunite with you? Pick up where you left off?”

“Yes.” He grips the back of my neck when I start to pull away. “She wants my money, Ivory.”

I find that hard to believe. Anyone with half a brain must know that any love this man offers is more valuable than all the wealth in the world.

Leaning forward, I comb my fingers over the short hairs on the back of his head. “How much money are we talking?”

“Half of my inheritance. Millions. I would gladly give it if I knew the child was mine.” He folds his arms around my back, holding me against him. “I gave blood months ago in my demand for a paternity test. She’s yet to provide the results.”

“That doesn’t bode well for her. I mean, if the child is yours…”

“This would be a done deal, and she would be a very wealthy woman.” He looks down at me, his eyes swirling in thought. “She knows my terms. I want those test results. If the baby isn’t mine, she doesn’t get a penny, and I’ll never have to see her or think about her again. If it is mine, I’ll be a father in every sense of the word.”

And Joanne will be fully embedded in his life. My heart stutters and breaks.

He cups my neck, searching my face. “There is no Joanne and me. I’m yours. Tell me you understand.”

I close my eyes against the intensity in his. “You said you love her.”

“I also said I hate her.” With a deep sigh, he lowers his forehead to mine. “Then I found something more meaningful than love and hate.”