Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
She came down the steps with her usual grace, straight to him, and took his hand. “I want to hear you play the piano. Neither one of us is going to get any sleep tonight. Play for me.”
“Wear the diamond chain around your hips. I’ll play something you might feel like dancing to.”
Amaranthe didn’t hesitate, but then she never did. She moved back up the stairs, her hips swaying under the gossamer fabric. She looked so beautiful. Ethereal. Just as she did onstage. A woman from another dimension. Her long hair flowed down her back in waves and curls, nearly reaching her small tucked-in waist. Her bottom, like the rest of her, was small but perfectly shaped. He enjoyed watching the movements of her body beneath the transparent robe as she opened the rectangular box sitting on the shelf above the headboard.
“I’m never going to like that you put your life on the line, Amara,” he admitted. “There’s always going to be that part of me that insists on protecting you. And I will. I refuse to lose you. But I’ll do my best to understand that you feel the same way about me and my safety.”
He narrowed his eyes as she turned toward him. The edges of her robe were separated so she could reach around and link the diamond chain at her left hip. His breath caught in his lungs, staying there until he was burning for air.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Amaranthe. Why did you even give me a second look?”
She had been looking down at the chain, but her head came up, that adorable little frown on her face, her eyes blazing with a warrior’s light. “Geno Ferraro, there is no man to compare with you. I can’t see anyone else. I never will be able to.” A mischievous smile lit her face. “And now that I know you play the piano, there is no way to resist you.”
Amaranthe came down the stairs straight to him, the edges of her short robe still open. She was comfortable with him now. That was a victory he was happy he’d scored with her, making her feel comfortable as a woman with him. She reached up to run the pads of her fingers along his heavily shadowed jaw in a caress.
“I love you, Geno. Every part of you. Even the overprotective, bossy part. I love that side of you very much. All of you. I don’t mind telling you. Or showing you. Play the piano for me. I’ll dance for you, but I do have other things in mind. It’s time for me to practice the art of making you very happy.”
His cock jerked. “Baby,” he countered cautiously. She couldn’t possibly mean what he thought she did.
She took his hand and tugged, starting toward the piano at the far end of the floor. “It’s going to take a lot of work on my part to learn to be good at pleasing you. I think distracting us both with your significant skills on that instrument while I practice on your beautiful instrument will work quite nicely.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
The atmosphere in the theater was electric. As most people watching the performance would know nothing about the assassins that had gathered to kill some of the patrons, Geno knew, like him, it was the amazing dancers telling the story of Romeo and Juliet that would capture their attention.
Granted, it would be his first live performance with the lighting, the music and all the dancers, men and women in their costumes, but he expected after watching rehearsals for it to be powerful and mesmerizing. During the dress rehearsal he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Amaranthe dancing, every movement so expressive and emotional it was impossible not to understand the story. The spotlight didn’t need to follow her. Amaranthe was spellbinding.
Amaranthe had explained that the ballet, Romeo and Juliet, was difficult to perform for several reasons. The music was powerful, and a superb orchestra could overshadow mediocre dancers easily. Aside from the fact that the choreography was technically challenging, this particular adaptation they were performing required athleticism, skill and a partnership of matching body types. As the principal dancer, Amaranthe was far too short to have a male dancer match her height. In order for her to be able to match the steps perfectly with her partner, they had to practice hours and hours for months together.
Jason Donagon, originally from New York City, according to Amaranthe, was a flawless classical dancer. He had beautiful, effortless leaps, taking to the air with amazing heights, and yet never once complained that he had to shorten his strides to dance the choreography with her. It took considerable skill to shorten his steps and still look as if he were at full extension. Jason was a powerful, explosive dancer, and at five-seven he was shorter than most of the other principal male dancers, but he could gain more air and do more turns. He looked out for his partner.