edible in it, for this I need it out of the way.”
Trapped by the greed in his eyes, Eve reached behind her, unfastened the skirt and shimmied out of it so she stood before him in her blouse and panties.
Zachary said something, a nonsensical word that came out like a growl. And then his drumstick trailed carnally down her front, down between her aroused breasts, down over her navel, down to where the edge of her shirt met the elastic of her panties.
And that’s where it stopped trailing.
“I’ve played many instruments before.” His gaze was focused on the point where his stick touched her panties. “Made music on everything from violins to saxophones, drums to didgeridoos, but never…” Again he cleared his throat. “Never have I anticipated creating symphonies like right now.” His voice alone was a tempestuous assault on her nerves. “Never have I wanted to make music like I want to make music with you.”
Eve’s knees turned to mush. Wet heat pooled between her legs. She had to clutch the drums to ensure she stayed upright.
And her weakness only increased as he dragged the tip of that maddening drumstick lower, finding her clit, and pressing with just the tiniest amount of pressure against it.
Eve almost climaxed on the spot.
She closed her eyes, ground her teeth, clenched her fingers over the rim of the drums and held every muscle rigid in an effort not to.
Zachary’s hum of satisfaction told her he’d noticed. He eased the pressure minutely. Long seconds passed where all Eve heard was the sound of her breath and his, hers fast and shallow, his slower, softer.
And then the tip of the drumstick was gone. But not for long. Zachary flattened the stick so he held it parallel to her legs, the tip resting on her clit.
He strummed her pussy. Strummed it with his drumstick like a cellist strummed strings with a bow. He played that stick over her, drawing it up and down, ever so gently, ever so erotically.
And she stood there, panting, her legs trembling, her pussy pulsing as he created his music.
Never, in Eve’s wildest imagination would she have thought she could be brought to the edge of paradise by a long, thin piece of wood. But Zachary’s skill had her right there, on the precipice.
His exquisite tenderness and delectable creativity had her oscillating between wanting to come and wanting the sensation to continue for eternity. He generated such sweet harmony within, Eve lost herself to the mastery of his hand, the skill of his touch—and still, as promised, he hadn’t actually laid a finger on her.
And then the real music began, the slow beat of his second stick against his drum, the vibration of the boom of his bass drum.
And while it began slow, to match the rhythm with which he drew his bow—his stick—over her pussy and clit, soon it increased in pace, as Zachary’s tunes always seemed to. As the drumming became faster and the boom harder, he played her more quickly.
It was all too much. Sensory overload. The sensations he filled her with could not be contained. They blossomed and grew, doubling in intensity, then tripling, until she could no longer hold them within.
She came, crying his name out loud as he brought her endless waves of exquisite pleasure.
Long, rapturous moments passed before Eve came back to herself. Before her mind began to work and the world made sense.
And when her vision cleared and her gaze took in Zachary, sitting on his throne, king of his drums, king of his music,
Without giving him a second to object, she rounded the drums, squeezed before him and dropped to her knees, freeing his cock from his jeans.
She licked her lips.
His drumsticks hit the floor with a dull thud seconds later, and for a good few minutes Eve took charge of the music, playing him with her lips and her tongue and her teeth, until Zachary reached his very own crescendo.
Dinner was a leisurely event filled with laughter and small talk. Zachary was more relaxed than he’d been in months, and Eve seemed to have gotten over her awe of meeting his brothers. She now chattered away with them as though she’d known them for years.
She chattered happily with Delilah and Devine as well. And with Sophie, who’d come to dinner with her face fully made up and looking extraordinarily beautiful. It had taken Nathan a good few minutes to find his voice, and even then, he hadn’t bothered with speech. He simply tipped Sophie over and kissed her in front of everyone. Again.
Zachary would have kissed Eve, but she’d threatened to poke him in both eyes if he even attempted another public display of affection. And after their experience at the after party, he was more than okay with that.
“A bath,” he whispered now to the woman who was fast monopolizing every one of his waking thoughts.
“What about it?” she whispered back.
“Let’s ditch dessert and go take one. Together.” The massive spa in the bathroom had captured his attention—and imagination—the second he’d seen it.
She looked at him, horrified. “Are you insane? Nice as that bath looks, I can’t justify missing dessert for a tub full of hot water.”
“Hot water…and me.”
She leaned back and surveyed him carefully, giving him a slow once-over. “You look okay. Tempting even…”
“But?”
“But did you get a look at the dessert menu? I’m afraid you have nothing on the souffle.”
“Seriously?” He gaped at her. “You’re throwing me over for…for…a puffy cake?”
“Not throwing you over. No. We could always share.” She blinked prettily, obviously happy with her well- thought-out compromise. “So long as you order the panna cotta. I’m dying to try that too.”
He raised his hands in disbelief. “Rejected again.”
Eve grinned. “Not rejected. Just…postponed.”
They ordered the souffle and the panna cotta, and Zachary watched, both charmed and aroused, as Eve consumed them both.
When the plates had been cleared away, and he once again suggested the bath, more eager then ever to get her into that hot tub, Eve once again vetoed the idea.
“How about a walk rather? Along the promenade?”
“Hot sex with a hot woman in a hot tub, or a walk in public.” He held his hands out, palms up, as though weighing up his options. “Hmm. Which one, which one…?”
“C’mon, lazy bones.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet, which just charmed him even more, watching the slip of a woman yanking a man almost twice her size out of his seat. “I’ve been locked up in either a hotel or a plane all day long. I need air. Need to breathe a little and stretch my legs.”
He frowned. “You sure you’re up to going out there?” As far as he knew, the press had not been informed of their current accommodation. Luke had spread subtle rumors about
Eve reached into her bag and pulled out two caps. “I come prepared, Pacey. With Jake’s help. Here you go, put it on.” She handed him a navy cap with
Brayden, his bodyguard.
“You sure about this?”
“Sure, I’m sure. As long as Jake and Brayden don’t make it obvious what they’re doing, I’d love to get out for
