PEYTON held Raji in his arms, still gasping.
That momentary fall into oblivion at the center of his orgasm still echoed in his head.
Raji was clinging to him, her arms clasped around his chest, her eyes closed as she panted. The jasmine perfume on her skin swelled around him from their heat.
His chest swelled with longing for her, even though they had another few hours before she had to turn around and get back on an airplane for Los Angeles.
Paris would dull without her. He would probably drink himself stupid with the roadies and contribute nothing to Xan’s marathon songwriting sessions. The weeks and months without her seemed endless.
“I—” he said, but he stopped.
Raji chuckled a little as she breathed. She adjusted her arms around his neck, smiling. “Yeah. Me, too. Wow, huh?”
That wasn’t what he had meant.
He’d been writing music lately, melodies, harmonies, and a few lyrics, all floating around his time with Raji. They sounded like ballads, sweet and lilting sonatinas.
Not shallow, not meaningless. The music rose from some deep place within him, layers of notes and emotion, and he wasn’t sure how to tell her about it.
“Don’t go,” he said.
She cocked her head, smiling up at him. “You know I have to.”
“I want you here with me.” His voice was almost breathless as he spoke.
“I’d rather be in Paris than wrist-deep in some guy’s ribs and blood, but I have to go back, even though I’d rather stay here with you, you there with your lovely green eyes and your rippled muscles and your hard, hard cock.”
He forced himself to smile. “I want you here with me, you there with your tight pussy and your deep, beautiful eyes and your silken skin. I’ll come to Los Angeles as soon as I can, maybe in a week or two. Xan is just writing songs here. I’m useless to him. I’ll figure out a way to come see you.”
Peyton was useless to Xan because none of his music sounded like the drums, torment, and wails of Killer Valentine.
His music was quieter, more haunting, and imbued with longing for silken caramel skin and raven-wing hair and the fathomless depths of her eyes.
It was piano music, intellectual and placed on the grand staff, and it was far too personal to play for Xan Valentine.