Chapter 304

Pearl couldn't sleep. The rain pounding on the window and the thoughts from the day were antagonizing her. She wrapped a robe around her silk nightie and walked to Christian's crib, checking on him. He was fast asleep. Tia was curled up on the bed in the makeshift nursery. She was wonderful and Pearl was grateful that she was there. She walked past Sebastian's room and saw the door open and the bed still made.

She looked at the clock and saw it was one in morning.

Walking downstairs, she saw the study light was on and the door was ajar.

"Bash?" She asked quietly. He was standing at the window. Music was playing on a record player in the corner at a low volume.

"Chopin." She said. "Nocturne 20 in C minor"

He looked up at her, a little startled. "Yes." He said with a half smile, pleasantly surprised that she knew it. He walked over to turn it off.

"No. Leave it. It's nice. One of my favorite pieces." She said. "It's late."

"Yes. I... I couldn't sleep." He said, his voice hoarse and low.

She walked over to the large table in the middle of the room and poured a drink. She was thankful for all of her diligent milk pumping. It was a day for bourbon. She drank it in one gulp and poured another as Ballade No. 4 in F minor began. It was soft and nice and sad all at once.

She turned to Bash. He was still standing by the window, watching the rain outside. His hair was a black, wavy disaster, his shirt unbuttoned at the top. She noticed how big his hands were as he held the whiskey glass and turned to look at her. His grey eyes were bright and clear, swollen from what was obviously the crying spell he deserved.

They stood in silence for only a few minutes but it felt like an hour. The piano notes on the record were in peaks and valleys of soft notes and intense pounds on the ivory keys by the pianist.

He walked over to her and looked into her eyes. She took a drink of her bourbon and looked at him. He reached forward and took the glass from her hand and sat it down on the table. Picking her up, he placed her on the table as well, sitting up and facing him. He opened her robe and lowered her back onto the table. He leaned forward and traced the line of her face and then the curve of her lips, running his hand down her chin and then her neck as Nocturne in E flat played. She arched her back as he ran his hands along her spine, pulling her up and running his hands along her chest and down her body. He drank in every inch of her with his eyes as he touched her. He lifted her silk nightgown and leaned forward, pressing his face against her stomach, kissing it gently and resting his cheek on her skin. She ran her hand through his thick, wavy hair and wrapped one of her legs around his body. He kissed her belly button and down to the top of her panties. Standing up right again, he put his hands on her hips and pulled her body toward him, running his hands along her bottom and down the sides of her thighs. She watched him as we moved, as he learned her with his hands. It was sweet and studious and erotic.

Neither of them spoke. Neither of them needed to. It was hand and eye contact and Chopin. It was understood. He unbuttoned his shirt and took it off. He had an incredible body. Muscular with perfect skin. He again lifted her nightie and laid his bare chest on her bare skin. The skin to skin contact felt electric, yet comforting. He kissed her stomach again and then moved to her mouth. He kissed her softly and eagerly, and in that moment, she could feel that he was sharing his pain with her. Showing her what he felt. Sharing his body and his heart with her in this physical way made her feel both happy and sad. He was giving her his body and his pain, like a sacrificial lamb. A wounded man offering what was left of him. She arched her back again and lifted her gown over her head, offering her body to him as well. He ran his hands over her bare breasts and down her stomach, touching every part of her that was exposed and memorizing it all with his eyes. He was worshiping her.

He put his hands on her shoulders and lifted her up to face him. He looked into her eyes and she knew what he was asking without him saying a word. He wanted to know if she wanted this. If she wanted to go further. If she was ready to be his. She didn't have to say anything to answer his eyes. She kissed him and ran her hands down his chest and over the muscles of his stomach, stopping at the button on his pants. She opened the button and moved the zipper down. And then his pants and underwear. His eyes searched hers. He seemed to be stopping. If that was what he wanted, then she would stop.

But he didn't. He moved his hands to her face and pulled her face to his, kissing her. He moved her lips apart with his tongue and opened her mouth, exploring it and kissing her as if she were made of silk. He laid her back again on the table and pulled her panties off. For a moment, he just looked at her. All of her. And she could see in his eyes how much he adored her. Wanted her. He lay over her and kissed her again, and then he opened her legs with his body and entered her. Her heart was racing so fast she thought she might faint. He stood back and ran his hand down her body as he gently moved in and out her, closing his eyes and moving his head back in complete euphoria. She felt it, too. It was an experience like nothing she had before. Her entire body was on fire yet she felt safe and comforted. The way he felt inside of her wasn't about getting off. It was about them being one. Being close. Sharing a body for a few incredible moments. Her orgasm washed over her and she moaned his name, arching her back again and looking into his eyes. His followed and after, he collapsed onto her, his face on her stomach and his breath hot on her skin.

They lay there for a few minutes before Sebastian stood up, picked her up and carried her up the stairs and to his bed.