Forbidden Serenade

Chapter Nineteen

I woke up the next morning and groggily looked around the expensive hotel suite. Memories of Elijah drifted into my mind and tugged my lips up. Despite knowing the inevitable end we were racing toward, he was a pivotal part of my life right now. He brought back a side of me I had lost.

The sexy woman.

The desired lover.

The woman I lost in motherhood.

Glancing around the bedroom, Elijah was nowhere to be seen. My brows furrowed together, wondering if he left, when the sounds of a guitar being played drifted in from the living space. Rolling out of bed, I padded into the bathroom and, after using the facilities, wrapped up in a fluffy robe the hotel supplied.

Following the sounds of the guitar, I found Elijah sitting on the sectional. He had the guitar propped on his leg while he played. His eyes were closed and his face was scrunched with focus. He was far away in his own world he'd reached by the tune his fingers expertly playing on the musical instrument.

I stood silently watching him, not wanting to interrupt his moment. His head rolled side to side, and his dark wavy hair fell over his face, obscuring it from view. He played with the ease of someone who'd been doing it his entire life. A million questions swirled in my head that I needed the answers to suddenly. When did he learn? Who taught him? How long had he been playing? I longed to see him on stage. My mind conjured up the image of him coming alive in front of a crowd with lights and drums. The intensity of his passion in that moment paled compared to what he could unleash during a live performance. A dangerous craving took life inside me. I longed to witness his public persona. I wanted to view in person his passion on stage. It would pull us from the secret hotels we currently occupied, and it was a step we could never take.

His face flicked up to me, and he stopped playing. We both remained unmoving, unspeaking. Silence fell between us, but it wasn't awkward. There was something unreadable in the blue eyes he leveled at me. At first, I thought he was upset I'd interrupted him. He didn't move as he stared at me so intensely, I could feel the weight. It wasn't annoyance that hung in his gaze. It's like he'd conjured me up with his music and couldn't believe I'd appeared.

I finally broke the quietness. "What was that song?"

He shrugged as if it was no big deal. "Something new I'm working on."

I stepped toward him. "Does it have lyrics?"

He shook his head and some of his hair fell in his face. He tucked it behind his ear. "Not yet."

I sat down beside him. "Where did you learn to play?"

He strummed the guitar a few times before answering. "The first foster family I lived with had an older son. His name was Billy." He lifted his face to mine. "He taught me."

There was a wall suddenly built up around Elijah. It's like he was bracing himself for judgment or rejection. Why, I didn't know. Because he was in foster care? That only made my heart crack. Was it the root of his pain?

His lips pulled in as he drew in a breath through his nose. He looked back down at the guitar and idly strummed it. "He gave me a guitar when I left, and I used to practice on that piece of shit until my fingers bled."

I placed my hand on his thigh to support whatever he was going through remembering this. "How old were you?"

"Nine." He lifted his head again, but it seemed whatever was bothering him had passed.

"Will you play me one of your songs?"

He smirked. Scooting to the edge of the couch, he shifted the guitar. He tuned it for a moment before gripping the guitar pick in his hand and beginning. He played a few chords and stopped and shook his head. Silently, he turned the knobs on the guitar before trying again. This time, he dropped the pick.

"Fuck," he mumbled, picking it up.

Looking at me, he gave his panty-wetting smirk before playing.

The ease with which he played the guitar shocked me. I watched in awe as he strummed. His head was down, his hair falling over his face as he started singing. His voice was...perfect. I didn't know how else to explain it. It flowed smoothly, and like his guitar playing, seemed effortless. It was easy to see how women loved him. He was stunningly handsome and naturally talented. A bad boy with handsome appeal. His charm and gift shone out of him. Certain individuals possess the "it" factor from birth. It's the deciding difference between fame and obscurity.

Elijah Wyatt had an overflowing amount of it. It almost seemed unfair all he held while others had not a speck.

He played the guitar, rocking his head to the rhythm and singing along. The song portrayed a love's end while wishing you well on your journey. As he hit the chorus, his eyes rose to me.

Did we have the time of our lives, lost in each other's gaze?

A love once blazing, now fading like the sun's rays.

Through the tears and the laughter,

We'll remember it all.

The rise and the fall, like the notes of a song.

We danced through the chaos, defying the night,

Hoping these memories would never take flight.

Trapped beneath his gaze, my breath caught and my core clenched. My heart beat erratically as he smirked, seeming to know the power he held over womankind. This man was something else. And for inexplicable reasons, I was wrapped in a robe in his room.

Life can be funny like that.

Or cruel.

Regardless of the fleeting nature of our illicit affair, I was determined to savor every memory and orgasm.

Finishing the song, I smiled warmly at Elijah. "That was amazing."

He grinned in appreciation of my compliment before scooting further back on the couch. He motioned in front of him between his open legs. "Come here."

He was more clothed than me with sweatpants but no shirt. As I sat between his legs and his arms wrapped around me from behind, my core was already throbbing.

Elijah brought the guitar around and set it on my leg. Taking my hands, he put it on the appropriate places on the guitar. He gently pressed my fingers down over the strings and then helped me strum. He whispered lyrics in my ear.

Love's a riot, hearts on fire,

We're the renegades of desire.

Tattooed hearts and reckless nights,

We're living fast, no wrongs to right.

Late-night drives and stolen kisses,

We're rebels breaking rules, igniting wishes.

His heart beat against my back. This seemed so intimate, despite the other things we'd done. My chest heaved up and down with this deeper connection. Did he feel it as well? I reminded myself this was only temporary. It could never last in the daylight.

But his whispered words in my ear, and his body heat penetrating mine, sent me into a tizzy. I didn't care what this was. I just wanted him.

Turning my face to the side, I took in the gorgeous sight of him. His blue eyes glanced over my face before he brought his red, full lips an inch from mine. His breath tickled my lips and tempted me to lean forward. To taste the sin dangling in front of me.

He was so young. It was wrong. But I threw caution to the wind once more and pressed my lips to his. He kissed me back, removing the guitar from my lap and setting it beside us. I turned around in his lap, straddling him. My hands ran over the smooth skin of his face as his hands roamed over my butt. He pulled me closer against him as his tongue dove into my mouth.

Elijah stood and carried me to the bedroom. Drowning in lust for him, I was certain my insatiable appetite for him would never be fulfilled. Even a hundred nights together would never be sufficient. He was the most delectable drug I never had the willpower to resist. I feared it would consume me. That I'd lose sight of everything else and only crave this.

But, more than that, I feared ever losing him.