She woke up in the dead of the night to the music playing in the background. Stunned, she sat up and searched the room for something to wear.

  She had felt the presence of a warm, n.a.k.e.d body pressed to hers and a hot tongue moving down her neck, teeth scraping across her tender flesh. In her dreams, she had heard his m.o.a.n and his hard c.o.c.k pressing against her leg. But when she awoke, there was no one there. What had been that dream? Was she so depraved?

  The sound of the music was faint and the bed beside her cold. She stared at the ceiling for a minute as she fully awoke and realized that it was Cage who was playing the piano downstairs. The noise which had traveled up was sweet and passionate. It brought her immense joy to hear him play for the first time. But why was he playing so desperately at this odd hour?

  She sighed as she got out of bed. She thought of grabbing her robe but soon realized that it would be easier to entice him to bed if she went in front of him completely n.a.k.e.d. And there was no fear of neighbors in his cabin, either. It was safe to say that their session earlier and the hotness of her dream had left her bothered and in need of him. It felt as if it had been years since they had been together.

  Her feet padded on the floor as she exited the room and went down the stairs. The music was clearer then and it was beautiful. She reached the room and stood at the doorway. He sat on the bench with his back facing her. He was in his t-shirt and sweatpants and he looked delicious. The image he painted made her n.i.p.p.l.es tighten and wetness pool between her thighs. His bare feet rested on the pedals. Something about his posture was incredibly sensual.

  His fingers moved over the keys fluidly, making just the right notes. She watched, mesmerized by the combination of his disarrayed hair and his lean, muscular form. He paused the music for a moment and ran his hands through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. In a minute, he started to play again, this time the tune was different and she suddenly felt like it was directed at her. She had never heard this piece before and it screamed at her to acknowledge it.

  At that moment, she couldn't stand not touching him. Feeling the pull, she walked over to where he sat and touched his broad shoulders. He jerked and looked over, his surprise quickly covered up by a lazy smile.

  "I'm sorry… did I wake you?" he whispered apologetically. The music had stopped and in the dead of the night, his volume was just enough for her to hear.

  "No," she replied with a sweet smile, brushing her fingers against his cheek as she did so.

  "I feel guilty," he said as he turned his cheek and planted a soft kiss on her fingertips. "Go to sleep. I'll be there soon."

  "I love to hear you play," she said. He had turned back to his piano and was looking desperately at the keys. "What was that piece?"

  He hummed in reply, his focus was clearly not on her. She chuckled as she ran her hand through his hair and scr.a.p.ed his scalp with her nails, gently. He leaned into her hand and asked her to repeat her question. So, she did.

  "Ah. I was composing for you." She was stunned. That song had been for her… that beautiful song… he had made it for her? It was then that he turned to fully look at her. He stopped dead in his track when he realized what she was wearing. His eyes widened in shock as he hissed out the words, "You're n.a.k.e.d?"

  As if he couldn't see that she was… She scoffed.

  "You put me to bed n.a.k.e.d," she shrugged. "I just rolled with it."

  "You must be cold," he mumbled starting to get up but she stopped him by placing a hand on his shoulder.

  "I have never watched you play the piano. Can you play for me?" she asked, looking at him from under her lashes. If only she knew what she was doing to him.

  "But you're n.a.k.e.d!" Dumbfounded, that was what he was.

  She quirked a brow and lowered herself onto him, straddling his h.i.p.s with her legs. His hands placed themselves on the curve of her hip as if to support her form. Not that she needed it. The contrast was palpable. He, fully dressed and her, stark n.a.k.e.d. She leaned into his chest, feeling the friction of the material of the t-shirt against her b.r.e.a.s.t.

  She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into his neck to smell that unique scent of his. The back of her legs rested against the back of the piano bench. It was cold, unlike the scorching heat of his touch.

  "I love you," she said, testing the words.

  "I love you, too." They stared into each other's eyes. "I'm sorry… we should go back to bed."

  "Why are you up so late, Cage?" she asked, confused.

  "I can't get the composition right," he grumbled.

  "My song?"

  "Yes, your song. I want to complete it," he confessed.

  "It sounds beautiful," she slithered her hand to cradle his face in her palms. "I feel your love when I hear it, I do."

  "That's not the only thing I want to show. I desire you, Katherine. With everything that is in me, I desire you. I want you every second of the day. I want all of me to be poured into this song for you. You deserve nothing less."

  She sat on his lap, silent.

  "Play is for me again?" she requested in a small voice, not knowing how he would react.

  He released his grip on her waist and placed his fingers on the keys, his beautiful eyes burning into hers. "With you on my lap?" he teased.