Page 124 of Fire

“He called me, actually.”

“Seriously?” Even three hours behind, it would have been late considering I was barely running on two hours of sleep.

“Yeah, that man is a night owl, apparently.” She clicks her mouse and pulls up a spreadsheet on her computer with a detailed list of doctors’ names, along with their locations, years of experience—and that’s just what I can pick out at first glance. “Anyway, he gave me a bunch of names, and I did the rest.”

“This must have taken you forever.”

She doesn’t deny it. “I want to make sure you’re seen by someone knowledgeable in the field who can give a definitive diagnosis. Because, even though Eric and I believe all the signs point to focal dystonia, I don’t want to take you to someone who will just nod in agreement with us. I want someone who will do their due diligence and ignore us completely so they can maketheir own assessment.” Her voice catches in her throat. “I want the best. Only the best will do.”

This fucking woman.

“Come here.”

She doesn’t hesitate. She just closes her laptop and climbs over the arm of her lounger into mine. Her legs wrap around my thighs, and she burrows into my chest. I don’t know how long we’ll stay like that, with her clinging to me, listening to the steady rhythm of my heartbeat.

“The first time I saw you play, it nearly took my breath away,” she murmurs. “It was that first night in Miami. I’d never been to a rock concert. Never seen anyone play live, except my mom.”

“Not really the same,” I interject.

“Not in the least,” she agrees, and when I glance down at her, I see the faintest hint of a smile.

“I’m not sure what I expected when I walked to the side of the stage with Elena that night. I knew it would be loud, and the crowd would be huge and chaotic. But I never expected to get so swept up by it all. Seeing you perform was like a work of art. It actually made me mourn all those times you came into our tutoring sessions with your bass locked tight in its case. So many missed opportunities to hear you play.”

She glances up at me, her brown eyes wet with unshed tears. “You can’t lose that gift, Hen.”

“I know, baby. I know.” I bend down and gently kiss her lips. “And I won’t lie and say I’m not scared. I’m not even sure I would have ever recognized the symptoms as anything serious if you weren’t here, and it’s scary to think how much worse it could have become.”

“I’m going to be honest with you. There is no cure for this. There are treatments and specialists. There are medications, but there is nothing that makes it go away. If this is truly what you have, it’s something you’ll have forever.”

“Will I lose my ability to play?”

Her gaze turns fierce. Resolute. “Not if I have anything to do with it.”

I kiss her again, but this time it’s anything but gentle or chaste. My fingers grip her hair as I tilt her head. Her lips are soft, and her cheeks are stained with dried tears. I hate that she’s cried so much over me, and I want to erase every single one of them.

I reach for the tie on her robe and tug it free. She pulls back. Her eyes are wide and a touch curious. “Here?” She looks around the stone patio. Walls on either side separate us from the other suites, but the iron railing is open to the harbor, and our only cover is the darkness.

“Here,” I confirm, kissing a path down the side of her neck. “I need to feel alive right now, Zara. So let me have you out here by the water before the sun comes up.”

Her mouth is on mine before I can take my next breath. The robe slips off her shoulder, and I take it as a sign just to tug the whole thing off and toss it to the ground.

I take a long look at her, and damn if she doesn’t take my breath away. Naked under the moonlight, she looks ethereal.

Like a fucking goddess.

My hands are everywhere. Every delicious curve, every inch of smooth skin. I can’t get enough of this woman. I don’t think I ever will.

I know we’re short on time, but I’m not leaving this balcony without a taste of her. Gripping her waist, I lift her and in one quick motion, I have her beneath me. She lets out a little squeal, which immediately turns into a breathy moan the minute my mouth closes over one of her rosy nipples. Her fingers grip my hair as I shift and pay some attention to the other side, swirling my tongue around the hardened peak.

Her back arches. “Please, Hen. I need more.”

“I know what you need, Cupid.”

It’s exactly what I need too.

I kiss a path down her body, watching her breath grow ragged the closer I get to the valley between her thighs.

Yeah, I definitely know what my girl needs.