Page 118

Before I can even process the beautiful weight of his confession, his mouth crashes to mine.

I gasp, nearly dropping my violin to the floor as the kiss turns deep, desperate, and possessively heavy. His knee wedges firmly between my thighs, forcing my legs apart. The sudden friction makes me gasp, my hips instinctively moving into him for more.

“Julian.” I breathe. “We’re backstage. We shouldn’t—”

“We shouldn’t,” he agrees, cheekily. “But you don’t follow the rules anymore, do you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Sliding his hands down the hem of my cobalt gown, he bunches the heavy silk up over my hips, his fingers tracing up my thigh until they slip beneath the lace of my underwear.

We really, really shouldn’t be doing this here, but, I’ve already broken the rules today. What’s one more scandal? A giddy laugh escapes me.

This could be fun.

“Shh,” he whispers, his fingers hooking into the lace to pull it to the side. “Hold onto that violin, and try your best to stay quiet.”

He unbuckles his belt with one hand, his thick length pressing directly against my aching center. I grip the neck of my violin for dear life as he pushes smoothly inside me, thrusting until he’s completely buried. The feeling of him filling me so abruptly takes absolute control of my body.

Every time his hips drive forward, my back hits the brick wall. The pace is frantic, reckless and so amazingly dirty. It is a shameless violation of every standard Belrose Academy stands for, and easily the most perfect thing we’ve ever done.

I try my best to cling to his neck without striking him out with my violin—my fingers trying their best to hold onto the instrument. The pace is erratic, a driving rhythm that leaves my joints with no control over themselves. I am entirely at his mercy.

Through the velvet curtain, I can hear the muffled sound of footsteps. Someone is walking down the corridor, completely unaware of what is occurring just a few feet away from them. The sheer risk of getting caught pushes me right over the edge.

My core tightens, a sudden climax tearing through me that steals the air straight from my lungs. As the waves of pleasure crash through my body, I bury my face into the crook of his neck, biting down on his shoulder to smother my cries.

Julian lets out a low groan as his fingers dig deep into my hips, anchoring me to him. He delivers a few desperate thrusts before his breath hitches, his body shuddering violently as he finds his release.

He holds me pinned against the wall for a moment, both of us trembling and gasping for air in the dim light.

Slowly, he presses a kiss on my forehead before sliding out and smoothing the material of my dress back down to the floor. He quickly adjusts his trousers, before he reaches out to gently take the violin and bow from my shaking fingers.

That signature, arrogant smirk returns to his face, but his eyes are utterly tender.

“You know.” He flashes a wicked little smile, smoothing my stray locks of hair back into place. “Between our Chopin duet, your Vivaldi solo, and my impromptu repertoire change, Mathias is probably on the verge of a cardiac arrest.”

A laugh bubbles out of my chest. My Vivaldi Winter solo earlier in the evening had been a massive hit, technically flawless, but played with a new, fiery passion that amazed everyone. Then Julian had taken to the stage for his solo, completely tossing out the Rachmaninoff piece he’d been assigned because he simply ‘wasn’t feeling it.’ Instead, he played Roseanna’s Theme. It was raw, haunting and so brilliant it had left nearly everyone in tears, including one of the scouts.

“He is definitely going to lose his mind,” I agree.

“Now.” Julian grins, offering me his arm. “Let’s go and see what Mathias really has to say.”

43

Julian

Stave is stuffed to the brim tonight, buzzing with the electric afterglow of the Spring Showcase. The heavy air is thick with the scent of bourbon and pure celebration. It seems as though the entire student body has crammed in here, loudly reliving every single high, and scandal from the stage.

Sitting in our usual corner booth, the energy at our table is a joyous chaos.

“Julian,” Maddie announces suddenly, leaning across the table. “You officially have my blessing.”

I raise an eyebrow, taking a slow sip of my drink.

“What the hell?”

Didn’t think I had asked for it?

Ellise laughs softly beside me, her shoulder pressed close against mine, while Josh rolls his eyes from the opposite side of the table.