chapter 26

S omehow the dark, cold passageways felt warmer as Erique led me back to the opera. He was safe and comfortable now that there was this new kind of trust between us.

I wanted to call my mom. Tell her I slept with a man who didn't try to have sex with me even though I was only wearing his shirt in his bed, holding him all night after a very horrific, vulnerable exchange happened with us.

Tell her that Erique was stronger than me. That it took everything in me not to lead him into sex as his breath was between my breasts all night while I held him. Or that his leg between mine almost did me in.

I'm pretty sure I would have had sex with him too. I'm glad we didn't. There was too much going on. But still. Oh my God.

She wouldn't believe any of it. A vulnerable man? A man that didn't try to have sex with you? Who took care of you?

Unicorn.

Oh, the bar was low.

We approached the vanity mirror to dressing room seven. The room was dark when I peeked through, making sure the coast was clear. Also, I'd never seen a two-way mirror before.

"Do you watch everyone?" I asked.

Erique shifted uncomfortably, like a child who just got caught. "It's an unfortunate side effect to my condition."

He set the lantern down and unlatched the door before retaking my hand.

The glow from the lantern faded as we went farther into the room. Erique stopped us just shy of the door. "You will be alright. I will see you for your lesson tonight," he said, but didn't release my hand.

Even though I nodded, I wanted to say I didn't want to go back today. That staying with him, lounging about sounded like a dream.

The wounds were still a little raw though and neither of us knew where we were going next.

I'd hoped he wouldn't kiss me. I don't know if we were ready for that. Or that it was something that should happen again.

My blood warmed thinking about a kiss again, but the pit in my stomach grew when my hand found the door handle and opened it enough, just to close it.

I threw my arms around Erique's neck, squeezing tightly. His hands locked into my spine and held me like he hadn't seen me in years.

"Mmm. My Melody," he hummed.

I forced myself to pull away. If I didn't, I would have made him take me back. "Here goes nothing," I said.

Reluctantly I grabbed the door handle once again and I opened it.

"Where have you been?" Christine yelled, rushing up to me. Erique's grip on my hand tightened as he hid behind the door, taking half of me with him. "I've been looking for you. Where's your hair?"

My heart raced. "Uh. I lost my wig. This is my hair."

In all the clouded thoughts surrounding everything, I'd forgotten to grab the damn thing somewhere in Erique's home.

"I like it. It's different."

"Thanks. Um. I'm just finishing up. Are you alright?" I asked.

"I wanted to see how you're doing after last night."

My blood froze. Did the girl I helped tell?

It was hard to focus between my heart's erratic behavior and Erique moving my hand to his chest, forcing me to feel his heart beating beneath it.

"What do you mean?" I barely got out.

"Joseph Buquet, the smelly stagehand is dead. They found him hanging above the stage last night."

His soft kiss pressed against the back of my hand, then my wrist. I thought I was going to drop.

Everything was so confusing, and my heart rate was so high.

"What?" I nearly squeaked.

"Everyone thinks the Opera Ghost did it. I was surprised not to see you this morning."

"I was staying with a friend. I just got back."

She gasped and a wicked little smile spread across her face. "Were you with your Erique?"

"Um. We should go," I said, swatting my hand away from the pesky demon behind the door.

***

After a few days, no one seemed to care about Joseph's death. The managers tried to convince everyone that it was an accident because it looked like he was drunk and merely tripped into the rope.

No one even mentioned the stab in his leg. It was finally time to breathe.

Well, almost.

The managers had me working the private box, despite my reluctance. I agreed to one more. Which meant the nice dress again and an evening without a certain someone in the lesson room.

I don't know why they're so hell bent on this fucking box. They couldn't just go to another one? This is the second weekend in a row they had commandeered it against the "Ghost's" wishes. I'd love it if Erique fucked with them, just a little.

We still hadn't talked about us. Nor had there been any more kisses. It didn't stop me from thinking about him constantly nor my stupid desire for him either.

Lessons had been going on like nothing had happened. Except now, I got to see my teacher while he teaches. Which was hard, because I could never take my eyes off him. Also, kind of scary when I can't quite get something right. The stare he gives could stop a charging bull.

We'd finished Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. I'm very glad our reading had resumed. I think that might be my favorite time together. When we sit close and recite words from our current read.

As I readied for the night, I smiled thinking about the next few chapters we'll share together. Maybe talk him into taking me to his home again and reading by the fireplace together.

Maybe not. That could be dangerous.

M. Fournier hurried over to me. "Miss Reilly, what happened to your hair?" I'd forgotten it was M. LeBlanc who had asked me here tonight.

His eyes cut to the door where Philippe and Raoul followed in behind, surprisingly unaccompanied.

"You don't like it?" I asked, facetiously.

He huffed and returned his attention to the guests. I hated the sound of kiss ass. M. Fournier's forced laughter was enough to make me want to vomit.

I didn't understand. They were already patrons and it's not like the managers lost money if they left. What was the need to continuously nose into their asshole?

The group migrated to their seats. Well, most of them. Philippe seemed to hesitate, staying behind.

"Can I get you something before the curtain pulls?" I asked.

"Actually. Would you care to join me for the performance?" Philippe asked. "Since my letters keep getting lost in the post."

"Oh. Thank you. I'm working. You understand, I'm sure."

"Nonsense! Miss Reilly, you may have a seat with us and enjoy the performance," M. Fournier screeched.

I bit my tongue. I'm not even sure why. "I would be delighted, Monsieur. Thank you."

If I were any other girl, I'd be happy just to be here. He was handsome. Wealthy. But there was something off. It was probably that I just didn't like him though.

My sister would eat this up. Man, it'd be nice to talk to someone about everything.

The lights dimmed and the curtain lifted. Once the performance started, I'd forgotten all about the men I was with and this uneasy feeling, and just focused on Christine.

Unfortunately, it would be her last weekend. Rumor was Carlotta was coming back with security this week. That woman was a masochist for real.

Erique was gonna have a heyday, and I couldn't wait.

"Miss Reilly, would you mind so terribly grabbing a round of drinks?" M. Fournier asked.

"Nonsense," Philippe said coldly.

"No, really. It's fine. I'll be back quickly," I said. Any excuse to get away.

Philippe gritted his teeth and nodded.

I was back with the drinks quickly as I said, only instead of retaking my seat by Philippe, I took my place in the dark near the column.

I could see it bothered him. I didn't care. I felt much better away from him. And a part of me hoped Erique was nearby.

It'd been a whole new world being able to see him while actually getting to do stuff together.

And as if he were reading my thoughts, like always. "Does it still move you?" his soft, demanding voice whispered into my hair.

It was like a drug, something I needed, wanted, had to have more of. My breath hitched and my eyes darted to the guests, hoping Philippe would stop looking in my direction.

"I could see this a hundred times and it would still move me," I said.

Like a caress from an angel, his breath warmed my ear. "Do you really want to sing?"

His hand slid around my hip, pulling me further into the dark against him. Shivers rippled through my limbs as another hand caressed my arm.

I relaxed, sinking into his warm embrace. Lolling my head against him.

"Do you want to sing like that?" His breath trickled from my ear to my neck. My knees weakened. The only thing keeping me up at this point was luck.

His scent engulfed me, and his touch ensnared me. I thought I'd burst into flames as his hand trailed down my arm to find my fingers eagerly waiting to intertwine.

He pressed his lips to my ear. "You will continue to blossom. One day you will shine."

"I can't."

"You will." Unique eyes beneath the silhouette of the Phantom's false face stared back at me as I found them, always soft. Always adoring. Even when he was upset that I may have missed a note or two.

Parted lips rested close to mine. "You will sing for me." His words fell into my mouth, as if they were my own.

It was brutal. Being this close. Erique's face was millimeters away, I could kiss him. What was he doing?

"Ok," I quivered.

The man in the darkness pulled away slowly. Hoping to prolong our proximity, I squeezed his hand as the applause roared ending the first act.

He gave one final squeeze and slipped away. The ghost was gone, but left behind in my palm was a folded piece of paper.

My heart fluttered as I unfolded it. He'd never written to me before.

His handwriting really was atrocious, and I loved it.

"Melody?" Philippe's voice pulled me from the note.

I hadn't noticed the booth emptied and we were the only two left.

"Yes? What can I do for you?"

His eyes flicked to the note in my hand, then overlooked the evacuating theater. "Would you join me for dinner? After the show?" he asked.

Jesus, can't you take a hint?

Madame Giry, the head keeper and one who usually tended to Erique in his box or arranged things delivered to his home, had stepped into the room and stood in wait.

She glanced down at the note in my hand and gave me a knowing look.

"I'm sorry, Philippe. As nice as that sounds. I am otherwise engaged. Actually, I need to leave now."

"Wait," he said, grabbing my arm. "My apologies, Madame." He let go, drawing his hand back. "You really have no desire to accompany me?"

It was like the air was sucked from the room. How did he not understand that I wasn't interested?

"I don't think we're a compatible pair," I said. "And I'm not really interested." Oh my God, I finally said it!

"I see."

"I can just tell we are two very different people, Philippe."

"How do you know? We have spent very little time together." There was an edge to his comment. He was right, but I didn't owe him anything.

"Maybe you're right. But I kind of have…"

"There is another," he said, looking at the note in my hand again.

I shoved it into my pocket. "I need to go," I said, and spun around, leaving his dumbfounded face standing there. The audacity.

My nerves pulled jump rope while I walked the hallway. Why was I so nervous? I'm just meeting with a friend.

A friend that I wanna do things with… Ugh. Chill out.

The access door to the roof was not far past my room, as long as it was the one I was thinking of.

The door creaked open slowly and the cool spring air flowed in as I stepped out into an overwhelming glow of candles and moonlight.

My jaw dropped. Tall brass candelabras stood about holding long white candles that danced in the surrounding darkness.

The only thing more beautiful than the layout of candles, was the dark figure that stood at the center of them.

Move over Gerard Butler, there's no more room for you in my mind anymore.

A slow smile spread across my face when our eyes met. "Erique, what is this?"

He stared with a longing then stalked towards me. My eyes raked over his frame as he grew closer. I hated him. I was a deer caught in the headlights, waiting for the impending collision.

Firm hands slid along my arms and took mine in his. He put one over his shoulder and kept the other. I was almost disappointed that he didn't kiss me.

We moved along with the sounds that crept in around us. "How are we hearing music?" I asked.

He moved us close to a vent that had been propped open. There were several around the roof. It was like our own surround sound.

My heart couldn't take it. It was surreal. How was I going to fight against wanting this?

"Why all this?" I asked.

"I wanted to dance with you."

I felt so stupid for the immediate tearing in my eyes. It was so beautiful, but still, I couldn't believe this was just because. Have I fallen so far in my life that candles and music would bring me to my knees?

"How are you such a good dancer?" I asked.

"Not every moment of my life was agony, dear."

We danced all the way through Lorenzo's song and the one that came afterwards. I didn't even know I could dance anymore, that's how long it'd been, and I sure as heck didn't want to stop.

"You told me that you were a writer. That you tried and failed." His voice vibrated against my cheek as it crept into my ear.

"Mmhmm," I answered through intoxication forgetting everything else. He pushed me into a twirl, catching me on the recoil.

I didn't know I was capable. I was indulging so hard.

"With the passion you have, there is no part of me that believes you were less than adequate," he said.

"Shhh. Don't ruin this moment," I whispered. "I don't want to talk about it."

"We will talk about it," he said. "You are going to write with me."

"What?"

I stepped back without taking my eyes from him. Erique closed in on me quickly. As if I had no choice in the matter.

"I have many operas in need of physical words, Melody. Ink to parchment. I have the words, but…" he said. "As you saw, I was not taught to write, and conveying such things needs a practiced hand."

"You want me to transcribe for you?"

"More than that. I want collaboration. Partnership. I want you to tell me what my stories need. I want to tell your stories. You've told me of them and I hear nothing but promise. Just like in your voice, dear."

"I don't know. That can get complicated. I'm not the easiest person to work with. And remember, I can't speak any other languages."

"You are quite stubborn, that is true," he said, smirking. "However, you're a storyteller, like me."

"That doesn't change that I can't speak the language."

"We will write in English."

"They would never be played," I said.

"Let that worry be mine."

Stars sparkled all around. How could it be such a perfect, clear night? Even the smell was dull. I chewed my lip as we continued moving around the rooftop, thinking about his offer.

A mischievous look grew in his eyes. "Enough of that…" he said.

As much as I wanted to tempt him, AND turn away from this topic, I responded, "You can't think just because I'm passionate means I'm good."

"I've seen your writing."

"Erique… You swore…"

"Shhh… My Heart ."

It was nearly impossible not to believe him. He always sounded so sincere and confident. Hopeful. For someone so tormented, his outlook on this was confusing at best.

A chance to write again. A connection with another. Everything I've been missing and wanted was right here offering himself to me.

Exactly what I was afraid of.

I loved that he showed this side of himself though. And I hated it at the same time.

My eyes cut away from his gaze. I slowed us to a halt again. "What if something happens?" Like I go home. Or you don't want me anymore.

"There is nothing in this life that could stop this if you accept," he said. His eyes glimmered with tenderness and passion, as the light danced in them. "And if there is something, we will meet it together."

Why did I think he was talking about something other than operas?

He moved us into a dance again while I searched my mind. It was always my dream to write. But two dozen failed screenplays slapped me like phantom pains.

Come on, musicals and operas? What did I know about writing that?

"I would be lying if I said the thought of writing with you didn't excite me," I said. My insides shivered, warning me against the unknown. "Remember, I may not even be here tomorrow."

He nodded slowly.

I bit my lip going over one last thought. "Ok. We can see how…"

His mouth covered mine with a great hunger. I returned his kiss with reckless abandon.

A part of me thought we'd have to start over after what happened and how we'd been since. I even tried to convince myself what happened in the booth earlier was just, I don't know. I'm just out here lying to myself all the time.

Reluctantly, we pulled apart. Chests heaving with surprise and something more. My body screamed at the disconnect as we stood there.

"I needed to make sure you were real," he said.

"Beautiful Erique," I whispered, gliding my fingers over his lips.

His lids closed as if the words branded him, and a boyish grin spread across his mouth. He moved us faster around the rooftop.

We were almost floating at one point. Laughing, and gazing in adoration as he spoke excitedly of the stories we'd start on.

"Aren't you tired yet?" I asked. "I'm starting to see stars that aren't there!"

He laughed a true, light laugh. "I could do this for a hundred years, my Angel."

We'd covered every bit of space within the confines of the candelabra. Even nearing the edge of the rooftop by one of the golden angels. Dancing behind me, kissing my neck like the devil I wanted him to be.

There was a dreamy ecstasy to our kiss now. He was a quick study. Swiftly, he flipped me around and pressed me against the base of the statue, reclaiming my mouth.

We fought the buttons to his jacket, tossing it aside as soon as it was undone.

The pleasure and the teasing was all so delectable. I matched his energy with my own lust filled need. Squeezing him and entwining my fingers in his hair, I parted my legs and forced him tighter against me.

My tongue flicked his, and like a switch had been flipped, Erique dug his fingers into my hips. It almost hurt how harshly he held us together.

I groaned into his mouth at the devilish new pressure against my stomach.

This was about to happen with someone I really cared about.

Abruptly he stopped and stepped back, taking my breath with him. "Forgive me," he said. Astonishment and confusion plagued his widened eyes.

"What's wrong?" I asked, panting like I'd just run a mile. I tried not to gawk at the erection I'd felt against my stomach, which I desperately wanted knocking into it.

His eyes cut around frantically, like he was trying to figure something out. "I haven't... I'm not..." he stammered, as he paced. "I should take you back. It's late."

No. No. This couldn't be happening again. I was dumb to think it'd be different this time.

"I don't care," I practically yelled.

His gaze cut back to me with a hunger that I knew all too well.

He prowled towards me. Expression dark and primal. Fiery filled lips caught mine before I knew it. Everything gave out immediately. My instinctive response to him was so powerful. I pulled him onto me as I laid back.

Every brush of his tongue against mine had broken another dam below. His movements were better with every passing moment.

"What do you want, my Angel? I'll give it to you. Anything.... Everything," he said breathlessly, nipping at the spot below my earlobe.

I tugged at my skirt, desperate to feel him on my skin. "I just want you to touch me, Erique," I whimpered.

"Where?"

"Everywhere."

Like a man in the desert being offered water, Erique left my swollen lips. Kissing, licking, and nipping down my neck to my covered breasts that begged to be taken into his mouth. To have a tongue roll around them.

This stupid dress had no freedom to do so, and it was torture.

He rocked onto his knees. It was like he was afraid to touch me. "Do not let me hurt you," he demanded.

Awe and wonder burned in his eyes as trembling hands pressed against the outer part of my exposed thighs. The pressure from his fingers seared my tingling flesh as he moved up slowly.

"Is this ok? It is not too late..." His voice was shaky, like he wanted me to want to stop him.

I wanted this badly, but it sure didn't mean I wasn't anxious either.

Eager hands moved around my hips and hooked over the brim of my underwear.

"You're fucking killing me, Erique. Do it."

A smirk formed on his lips. He was toying with me now.

"You are the devil," I said.

With haste, he yanked them down as far as he could. I wiggled to aid in getting them off.

He found my thighs again and ran his fingers along my tender skin. It tickled in a deliciously agonizing way.

"Interesting composition," he said, circling the tattoo on my leg.

"Uh huh," I panted. Any other time I would have loved the irony in his attention to it. The Phantom finding interest in the Phantom score.

"From your favorite show?"

I nodded quickly, trying to move it along. My hand found the underside of his chin and brought his attention back up. One heated kiss later he was traveling up my thighs again.

The breath left my lungs and my heart stopped as he neared the more sensitive area of my body.

His finger lightly traced the soaking wet fuzzy crevasse at the center of flesh that hid the joy we both desperately craved. Each slow pass of his fingers was like a thousand little tickles flowing into my core. The need to have him grew painful.

I gasped as he slid a finger in between and ran across the little button of nerves that made me twitch.

"Yes. There!" I took his hand and moved him to the spot again.

My eyes rolled against their will, as I moaned when he moved with me. "Is this alright?" he asked. The need in his voice only heightened my own.

My body jolted against him; I didn't even know which way was up at this point. He leaned down, hovering over my body. I couldn't wait to have the full weight of him on me.

Intent lips met my neck, kissing and grazing his teeth against it.

If it were possible, I would burst into stars and no one would question it if they knew why.

"Answer me, Melody. Or I'll stop," he commanded.

With watery eyes, I nodded feverishly. "Yes. Yes."

"That is my good, sweet, Angel," he said.

No matter what kind of imagination I had, nothing could have prepared me for this. For him.

His own arousal pressed against my leg. "Let me touch you," I whined, trying to unbutton him. Free him. Hold his cock in my hand. I wanted the man in the darkness. To complete our connection.

And I was horny as hell.

Erique smirked as his fingers migrated. Greedily, I scooted, trying to find them again.

In a slow and forceful motion, Erique entered me with a finger. The coldness of his gold ring pressed against my thigh as he held my sex.

A very audible groan escaped both of us. Erique fell into my chest as my back arched.

My eyes felt like they were going to pop from my head at the overwhelming pressure from just a finger. Cheeks burned like the summer sun, and I sighed in relief.

His name fell from my quivering lips as he moved slowly in and out. I gasped again when he added a second.

The skilled composer's palm rubbed against my happy little button as he rocked against me.

Here I was without a second thought, my legs spread apart, skirt pushed above my knees, beneath a starry sky. Surrounded by candlelight, on the roof of a building in 1880 Paris. While the man that filled my most vivid dreams, pleasured me with just his fingers and I was lost to him for it.

The pressure that had been building within was reaching its peak. "Please... don't stop. I'm there. I'm…" I cried out.

Determined eyes locked on mine as he maintained his tempo.

"We will write beautiful music together," he demanded.

I couldn't answer. I was there.

"Melody…" he strained.

"Yes! We will!"

"Sing," he commanded.

My eyes closed and tears of bliss leaked while my body jolted and bucked against him as I sang out his name.

He didn't waver in his duty no matter how much I knew he achingly throbbed until I stopped him.

Through aftershocks and hazy sight, I found beautiful, overjoyed eyes staring. Tears rested in the corners of them.

We fell into a kiss so deep our souls sparked. He pulled his fingers from my body and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me tighter into our scorching kiss.

"Please," he begged through panting breath.

"Please."

He pushed back onto his knees again between my open, waiting thighs as he slipped off his suspenders. Our hands flew to the clasp of his trousers undoing them as quickly as humanly possible.

Erique stilled and lifted my face to meet his penetrating stare. "No sonnet, nor poem, nor composition can compare to the beauty that you are. Close as they may come, nothing could ever reach such a plane," he said. "I love you, Melody."