Louise Marley

From my upcoming novel Mozart's Blood:

Teresa and Mozart, panting, tumbled together onto a pile of cushions in the salon of the Countess Milosch. Teresa’s head spun as much with giddiness over the success of the opera as with the wine she had drunk. She had laughed until she could hardly stand, had danced while Mozart played the Countess’s excellent harpsichord, had dined on roast pigeon with new potatoes and sweet dumplings.

Zdenka was on Mozart’s other side, pressing her lips to his throat. Teresa would not be outdone, but slid forward until her body covered Mozart’s. Emboldened, she found his mouth with hers, tasting wine and tobacco and an oddly pungent flavor that was all his. She reveled in the kiss, in the movement of his lips against hers, in the thrill that ran from her toes to her throat. She was drunk on success and excitement, and she felt at that moment that she could have anything she desired.