Secrets and Sins: Chayot: A Secrets and Sins novel (Entangled Ignite) by Naima Simone Page B

reminded her of a soldier who had returned home after seeing the horrors of war and still had the shadows of the ordeal in his eyes. Whispering his name, she reached behind her, cupped the nape of his neck.
    Chay allowed the caress for a second—and only a second. He lowered his arm and stepped back so her arm fell to her side. But he didn’t leave the porch. Didn’t leave her. Accepting that as a sign, she opened the storm door and entered the house. She cut a path to the coffeemaker, but unlike the night before, he didn’t linger in the kitchen. She exhaled a pent-up breath when he moved into the living room. Thank goodness. He was…distracting. And right now with the taste of him still on her tongue, the scent of him still in her nose, and the feel of his body still imprinted on her, she was damn distracted.
    By the time she entered the living room with two coffee mugs in hand—his black as he preferred—her nerves were more settled.
    Until she saw him standing in front of her piano.
    He trailed a finger over the top of the fallboard, the gesture somehow reverent. She walked into the room, and his head lifted, a soft half smile quirking a corner of his mouth. Her breath caught at the rare sight.
    “It’s beautiful,” he said. It really is , she thought, referring to his smile, not the piano. “Do you mind?”
    Did she mind if he smiled at her? Hell no. Why would she have a problem with that? But then he hiked an eyebrow, and she glanced down at his hand splayed over the top of the piano. She swallowed a groan of mortification. Right. The piano.
    “I’m sorry. No, I don’t mind.” She held an arm out toward the Steinway. “Please.”
    He cocked his head to the side. “Are you sure? Gabe is fanatical about other people using the computer he writes on. And Greer coos over her art supplies like they’re babies.”
    She shrugged. Usually, she was very possessive of the piano—it had been a gift from her parents after she’d signed her first contract at fifteen. Even though she also played a digital piano in her shows, her love was the Steinway. But Chay’s hands on the instrument she adored? Sharing it with him? Even as irrational as it sounded in her own head, his fingers on the keys would be like having them on her. It would be private, intimate…sexy. Yeah, crazy. But suddenly she longed to beg him to sit at the piano, lift the cover, and touch.
    Chay pulled out the padded stool, adjusted the height and sat, raising the fallboard. The muscles across his shoulders and upper back performed a sensual dance beneath his white T-shirt, drying every bit of moisture in her mouth. Sorry, Justin. This man brought sexy back.
    She cleared her throat, sinking to the couch. Setting his coffee on the coffee table, she cupped hers between her palms. “I had no idea you played piano.”
    Chopsticks filled the room, and she laughed, delighted. Then she sighed. Six months. It’d been six months since she’d heard music from the beautiful instrument. God, she’d missed it.
    “My mother forced me to take lessons when I was younger, and I ended up loving it. To her surprise and mine, I could pick up a song after just hearing it a few times. I quit when I was about fifteen.” He paused, and shifted to a pretty melody that surprised and entranced her. “My mother has a Steinway—much smaller than this one—and I still play. Nothing like you, though. You are amazing. I remember the first time I heard your music. I was meeting a new client, and when he led me into his study, your CD was blasting from the speakers.” He huffed a breath, and her chest clutched at the note of wonder that entered his voice. “Beautiful. I remember stopping in my tracks in the doorway. The music grabbed me. Refused to let go. Directly after the consultation, I bought every album you’d released. That was five years ago.”
    His fingers flew over the keys, and the song switched to one familiar. Familiar and haunting. And hers. She gasped,