Pervade Duet: Pervade London & Pervade Montego Bay Read online

  The notes echoed with extraordinary beauty. It was a musician’s dream, holding an instrument of this quality and history. I was in awe.

  It was easy to forget where I was as my soul became one with the violin. I played my heart out for Xander, savoring each note as I recalled every second spent in his company.

  Although I imagined him listening to me amongst the crowd, I never saw him.

  Closing my eyes, I embraced this instrument that had already stolen a piece of my heart.

  The heaviness in my chest made me feel like I’d lost a friend. Of course, there was no logic to this emotional connection, and no reasonable argument why I should suffer this way. I just did.

  Six Months Ago

  Three nights after meeting Xander, I went back to the Tube station at Piccadilly Circus and reclaimed the exact spot in the ticket area.

  I was here to play for him…and him alone.

  I still wore my music school clothes—a short tartan skirt, thigh-high tights and flat shoes. I’d not even stopped off at home to change first.

  The commuters passing by had no idea they were listening to a two-century old violin. I’d not been brave enough to take this instrument into class at the Academy yet. Girls like me didn’t turn up with one of these without arousing suspicion.

  I lowered my instrument to my side to take a break, watching the pedestrians flow by. At this time of day, I’d have better luck playing in Covent Garden. But I’d have less chance of seeing Xander.

  It was a ridiculous hope, but I clung to it.

  A tall man with graying temples stopped in front of me to throw a five-pound note into my case. I gave a bow of thanks and watched him walk away.

  I glanced out into the stream of human traffic and glimpsed a familiar face.

  Xander.

  My heart skipped a beat, and then began to race.

  He stood amongst the meandering crowd. Gone were his rumpled clothes. He wore what looked like designer jeans and a black blazer over a nice shirt. A scarf was wrapped around his neck in the sophisticated European style. His looks were more astonishing than I remembered.

  The rush of excitement I was feeling suddenly turned into panic.

  Xander had turned away and was heading through the turnstile. I watched, dismayed, as he stepped onto a descending escalator, disappearing from view.

  Quickly, with trembling hands, I knelt to put my Strad and bow away.

  Holding the handle of the case with a tight grip, I rushed toward the escalator that would take me into the heart of the Tube station. I leapt onto the moving escalator, my heart pounding over the fear I was close to losing him.

  Xander stepped off the escalator and turned sharply into a tunnel leading to a platform.

  I ran beneath the same arch until I made it onto the platform, drawing in sharp breaths when I saw him hop onto a waiting carriage, the doors beginning to close.

  I bolted forwards, sprinting through the doors directly in front of me. Even though I’d not be on his carriage, I’d make his train.

  Holding onto the handrail and balancing the violin case with my other hand, I felt the Tube rock beneath my feet as it headed down the track. It was soon swallowed up by a tunnel, plunging us into darkness.

  When the lights flickered back on, I hurried down the center aisle, peering through the glass divider into Xander’s carriage.

  As though sensing my stare, he turned his head and looked at me.

  This man had been a constant in my thoughts since he’d walked out of my bedroom and I was too caught up in the mystery of him to walk away.

  This chase was exhilarating.

  A jolt and a shudder signaled the train was changing tracks. It took off down another tunnel. From the worried expressions of the other passengers, I could tell they weren’t expecting this either. This wasn’t the train’s regular route.

  Xander stared back at me, raising his phone.

  No, I was imagining it. Surely he’d not just changed our direction with his phone.

  The train squealed to a stop at a deserted station. Light bulbs flickered like in some old horror movie where you know things were about to go wrong.

  The overhead announcement informed passengers that this was not a working platform and it was closed to the public. There had been a “technical glitch” and we were “being re-routed.”

  With my jaw taut with tension, I watched Xander tap the screen of his phone. The doors in front of him opened and he took a leap onto the abandoned station’s platform.

  With a whoosh the doors before me parted as well.

  Glancing back at the other passengers, my heart jack-hammered over what I was being coaxed to do. From halfway down the platform, Xander held my stare as though challenging me to join him.

  I didn’t want to see the expressions of anyone witnessing my leap onto the platform with my violin in tow. I ducked, hoping to avoid being seen by the train’s driver, and hid behind a pillar, inhaling a steadying breath.

  The train pulled away with a screech and headed off into the tunnel. I was left standing alone, the silence only interrupted by the far-off sounds of trains flying by on distant tracks. The echo of the Underground clanged around me.

  Xander was gone.

  A shimmering vaulted ceiling stretched overhead. My addled mind knew this station had been built in the early part of the nineteenth century. I noticed old stains on the walls from water damage, but the rusted arches above were still spectacular.

  Xander reappeared on the track about twenty feet away and I let out a sigh of relief. I hurried towards him, wondering why the hell he was making this so difficult.

  I closed in on him. “Did you change the destination of our train?” Even as I spoke those words, I didn’t really believe them.

  He gave me a provocative smile, which looked a lot like a yes.

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “Because those people need to get to their destination.”

  “A bit of adventure never hurt anyone.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “They need to be shaken from their routine. They need to know that one person can make a difference.”

  Maybe he was some kind of vigilante?

  I raised the violin case.

  “You deserve even more than that,” he said.

  “Xander, it’s too much!”

  He shook his head. “What you did for me—”

  “One night on the sofa.”

  “Emily, you saw me. The real me.”

  I studied his face. “So…would you like to be friends?”

  Though after that trick he’d claimed to pull on the train, he would make a dangerous ex.

  He looked conflicted. “A good friend of mine once told me I’m like one of those priceless Ming Dynasty vases. Seemingly perfect, with an invisible crack running through me that makes me deeply complicated.”

  “Why would she say such a thing?”

  “Because he knows me.”

  “I don’t believe that about you.”

  “Don’t let this be the good advice you didn’t take.”

  “You’re asking me to walk away?”

  He pointed. “The exit.”

  “I made it this far, right?”

  “You don’t scare easily, do you?”

  I ignored that. “You heard me play?”

  “It was selfish of me.”

  “You gave me a Stradivarius.”

  “Hearing you play makes everything worth it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He shook his head to avoid answering. “It had to be equal to the kindness you showed.”

  “That’s silly. This violin is worth millions.”

  “Perhaps I should have done more.”

  “Oh, stop. Now I owe you, Xander.”

  He looked thoughtful. “This is where we part ways.”

  “Why?”

  “You are everything that is good.”

  “And I believe that about you.”


  “My life is…complex.”

  I wasn’t ready to let him walk out of mine. “Did you find somewhere to live?” I asked.

  “I did.”

  “You have enough to eat?”

  “Yes, I have access to money now.” His gaze roamed over the violin case in my hand. “I’m so happy you kept it.”

  “I went to Sotheby’s.”

  “I know.”

  “Did Mr. Bisbee contact you?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “I feel like you and me…we could be more…” There, I dared to say it.

  He let out a sigh of frustration. “You may not like my brand of friendship.”

  “Why?”

  He gestured with his chin to an archway. “You’ll be able to make it to the street from there.”

  “Maybe I want to stay down here with you?”

  Xander hesitated. “I’m not sure I can give you what you want.”

  “You’ve seen how and where I live. My life is simple. I don’t need anything other than music.”

  His expression changed. “We are deliciously wrong for each other.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “We’re opposites.”

  “Doesn’t mean we can’t be there for each other.”

  “I like you too much.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Goodbye, Em.” He leaped onto the track, barely missing an electrical rail, and walked away.

  Go home. Forget him.

  Yet I couldn’t keep myself from following him. I clambered onto the track, avoiding the rails.The steel rods could change any second and pin my foot in between, so I leaned on the side and continued on. One misstep and I’d be electrocuted.

  I just couldn’t lose him again…

  Inside the dark tunnel, I saw Xander leaning against the wall as though waiting for me. Shadows danced over his face. This wasn’t the most daring thing I had done lately. That was inviting a homeless man back to my place a few nights ago. But this was a close second.

  “What point are you trying to make?” I asked, my voice echoing around us.

  “I come with a catch.”

  “What catch?” My flesh tingled at his insinuation that maybe, just maybe, we could be together.

  Or maybe I should heed his earlier warning.

  Yet he was the adrenaline rush I’d yearned for. The apex of an aliveness I’d long craved.

  “Are you a criminal?”

  He looked amused. “Other end of the spectrum.”

  I gestured around us. “Is this a metaphor for how things will be if we’re friends?”

  “It is.”

  “When you derailed that train—”

  “Didn’t derail it. Merely changed its direction.”

  And that was a metaphor for him changing the path of my life with the power of his allure.

  He looked conflicted. “I’m not meant to have this kind of life.”

  “What kind?”

  Those crystal blue eyes held mine.

  “You had your heart broken?” I asked.

  “How can you make a choice when you don’t know what the question is?”

  My violin case was heavy, so I leaned it against the wall. “You’re still not making much sense.”

  A train roared by and it sounded so close that I leaped forward to hug him, squishing my face against his chest. He felt like the shelter I’d not known I’d needed.

  “Other side,” he shouted over the noise.

  Relaxing in his arms, I breathed in his heady cologne and closed my eyes, feeling his fingers stroking my hair to comfort me.

  The sound of the train receded into the distance, and I peered up at him. “No one has ever been this kind to me.”

  He curled his hand against my cheek.“I feel like I’m touching something sacred when I’m with you.”

  “You were bold enough to alter the direction of that train,” I said, pulling away. “I raise you my own dare.” I turned away from him, facing the wall with my palms pressed on the cold brick, my spine arched in a seductive beckon.

  “And you’re trying to change the direction of my life, too, apparently,” he said huskily.

  Far away on another track there came a rumbling of another train, but the noise was pushed out of my mind when I felt the sensation of Xander’s hand running down my spine.

  Slowly, he eased up my tartan mini-skirt and hitched it above my waist, groaning as he looked at my tight ass.

  Metal was screeching on metal somewhere and the vision of sparks glittered in my imagination.

  He tugged on my panties. “Can I pull these down?”

  “Please.” I looked over my shoulder. “Fuck me.”

  “Anything for you, Em.”

  My panties were eased down until they reached my ankles. I stepped out of them. From behind came the noise of a zipper being pulled down. The tip of his cock pressed against my folds as his hand explored between my thighs, his long fingers strumming my clit to make sure I was wet.

  He pushed inside me a little, and it made me feel flustered that he was so tall and strong behind me, and I was so vulnerable in this desolate place. I moved back against him so I could bend over more, my breath coming out in ragged gasps.

  “Emily,” he whispered. “God, how I want you.”

  This was madness. I was reckless and yet my body screamed to let me have this, have him, to surrender. This kind of thrill was all I’d ever desired and I wanted to believe someone as magnetic as Xander could be mine.

  Our scandalous rendezvous was the same scenario I’d fantasized about during those nights when I’d believed he was gone forever.

  He shoved all the way in. “Em, you feel more amazing than I thought possible.”

  The tight feeling of discomfort eased, and my inner muscles clenched him as he began to thrust himself deep inside me.

  All those hours I’d spent playing my violin had been me beckoning to him. This was my moment to savor. “Harder.”

  My palms scraped against the brick, but all I cared about was this slow, steady burning rhythm, the feel of him inside me. I held on to every second, not wanting it to end.

  Xander’s hips acted like a brilliant piston, verging on violent as he forced himself all the way in and then pulled out, keeping a perfect pace that had me quaking with pleasure. My breasts were swollen, nipples beaded tight, legs trembling from his deep penetration. I felt my slickness dampen my thighs.

  He slowed a little and his breaths came short and sharp. “You like me fucking you in the filthy depths of London?”

  “Yes.”

  He reached around and his fingers resumed strumming my clit. The sensations felt delicious.

  “We’re not meant to be,” he purred in my ear. “That’s what makes you feel so good.”

  The titillating sounds of our bodies clashing echoed around us.

  Chasing after the high of coming, my legs weakened as Xander wrapped his arm around my waist to hold me against him as he continued his hard thrusting.

  My flesh ignited, my mind letting go as my climax caught me up in a frenzy of need as I rode blissful waves of ecstasy.

  “How can you make a choice when you don’t know what the question is?”

  I couldn’t finish that thought, couldn’t catch my breath, couldn’t fathom how a ride on a train had brought me to this erotic encounter. No one could hear my moans in the darkness and I wouldn’t have cared if they did. I let go, escaping the here and now…

  Afterward, I leaned against the wall, catching my breath and marveling at how this man had come back into my life. It was fitting really, that we’d found each other again like two meteors randomly clashing together.

  But not by chance…by careful seduction; both of us equally guilty in this dangerous dance of temptation.

  Xander caressed my skin as he pulled my panties back on and tugged my skirt down. He spun me around and pulled me into a hug.

  I swooned with happiness.

  Us
. It felt so right.

  “I see you, Emily,” he whispered. “And I really like what I see.”

  A rush of contentment made my heart soar. He saw the real me and not the shy student who could appear standoffish. All I yearned for was the chance to connect.

  “Promise me you’ll never ask about my past.”

  I didn’t hesitate. “I promise.”

  He held me tightly against him.“Us, like this, is all I can give you, Emily. Will this be enough?”

  It already is.

  Six Months Ago

  Xander paused before his front door with his key poised, as though reconsidering.

  “Everything okay?” I whispered, looking for a sign he’d changed his mind about bringing me home after our incredible sex in the Underground an hour before.

  I’d played my violin hoping to see him again and the spell I’d cast with my music had led me here. I was anxious to see where he lived.

  Just a few days ago, I’d found him homeless at Piccadilly, so it was reassuring he’d found a place already. I expected it to be bare. Maybe he’d let me help decorate.

  Gordon House was smack bang in the middle of Baker Street. The elegant foyer had tipped me off that he’d found somewhere incredible. The inside of this building was just as grand as its street façade, the vertical columns giving away its Victorian heritage. Even his front door was carved with expensive molding.

  It was more than obvious that only the rich could afford to live here.

  With a twist of his wrist and a smile to lessen the tension, he turned the key and we were in.

  We stepped into an open-plan design—the place was fully furnished.

  Masculine tones dominated his abode. A large brown leather couch was accompanied by matching dark wood furniture. Sprawling floor-to-ceiling windows let in the street light. I counted ten chessboards placed around the room, their chess pieces scattered across squares as though he were mid-game in all of them.

  “Are you playing these at the same time?” I asked.

  He looked surprised at the question. “Yes.”

  “Doesn’t it strain your brain?”

  Instead of answering me, he eased my violin case out of my hand and set it on the dining room table.

  “You play chess with people online?”