Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Lauren’s looking down, pushing the food around on her plate with her fork. I’ve come to realize that when she says something without meeting my eyes, it’s because she’s nervous or uncertain.

  I shake my head. “I don’t think I do know.”

  My response is met with a brief glance and a smile. Lauren enjoys wordplay.

  She takes a bite of her chicken, looking around the restaurant as she chews, then she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head and refocuses on her plate, poking at the pile of mashed potatoes with her fork. “We’ve decided to have a road trip fling or whatever,” she punctuates fling with a sweeping gesture with the fork in her hand, “and you’ve made it clear that you’re planning to have sex with me tonight.” She stops, though it’s clear the thought is left unfinished.

  “I seem to recall those conversations, yes.” I figure I ought to fill in the pauses with something. But this time she doesn’t even lift her eyes from the plate.

  She purses her lips, again poking at the potatoes. Then she sighs. “We haven’t even kissed, though.”

  I pause, mid chew, then finish and swallow. “You’re right. We haven’t.” Reaching for my glass, I take a sip of water, considering her while I take a drink. Her eyes flick up to mine, then back to her plate. “Is that a problem?”

  She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, but the fact that she brought it up at all means it obviously matters.

  Not that I wasn’t planning on kissing her at some point, but the opportunity hasn’t presented itself. When I think about my plans for tonight, it includes having my mouth all over her body. Including tasting her lips and tongue.

  I set my glass down and lean toward her, pitching my voice low. “Would you rather I kissed you now? Or at the hotel?”

  Her head snaps up, her eyes wide. Then they narrow. “Are you fucking with me right now?”

  I make sure to keep my face solemn as I slowly shake my head. “No. Because I have a feeling that would significantly decrease my chances of getting to fuck you. And trust me when I say I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

  She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes still narrowed. Then she says, “Okay. I believe you.”

  “Good. And the kiss?”

  Sitting back in the booth, she tilts her head to the side. “Surprise me.”

  A wide grin takes over my face, and I sit back as well, studying her as she takes another bite. “So you don’t want to know when or how I plan to do it?”

  She shakes her head, glancing up at me. “Nope.” She pops the P. “If you’re that serious about getting in my pants, then I think you’ll do a good job.”

  I mull that over for a second. “Because doing a good job is a prerequisite for getting in your pants?” I guess.

  She smiles wide and gives me a wink. “You’re catching on.”

  We eat in silence for a long moment, and I study her. She stares at her plate, takes a bite, and then looks off to the side, studying the people around us, looking everywhere except at me. The contrast of her nerves with her brazen demands is adorable.

  Makes sense, though. Not many girls can say what she just did without stumbling over her words or chickening out. There’s a certain type of girl who’s learned to be direct about what she wants, but Lauren doesn’t strike me as that type. She’s not shy, exactly, but she’s not that upfront either. Her sarcasm is a front, a defense, designed to keep people at a distance. And if they’re laughing with her, they don’t notice.

  But she’s let her guard down with me already.

  “What?”

  Her voice, the almost disgruntled quality of the question, pulls my eyes from her lips, which I’ve been studying, to meet her gaze, which is finally fixed on me again. I deliberately quirk my lips in a flirty smile. “Just enjoying the view.”

  She rolls her eyes and snorts at my line. “Please. You don’t need to work that hard.” She points her fork at me. “I’m practically a sure thing.”

  Sitting back in the booth, I twist my glass of water around on its coaster, studying her. “I don’t know. You did just say that if I didn’t do a good enough job kissing you, I wouldn’t get past first base.”

  She stops chewing, her cheeks turning pink.

  I lean closer, lowering my voice again, pressing the issue. “Right? I didn’t misunderstand?”

  She swallows hard, the muscles of her throat working, and I have the sudden urge to put my lips right there. But she shakes her head. “No. You didn’t misunderstand.”

  “Scoot over.”

  Her head jerks as her eyes clash with mine again. “What?”

  I slide my glass across the table to her side and gather my silverware and plate. “Scoot over. I’m going to come sit next to you.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. You’ll see.”

  She flattens her lips, throwing me a suspicious look, but does as I ask when I stand to move around the table. Once I’m seated, I pick up my burger and take a bite, not looking at her or acknowledging her at all, even though I can feel her staring at me.

  Eventually, she relaxes and turns back to her food, leaving me to mine. Even though I’m pretending to be unaffected by her, that’s far from the truth. But she wants me to surprise her, so that’s my plan.

  Whether she knows what she’s getting into or not.

  I have to suppress a chuckle at my own deviousness. This is going to be the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

  Since my goal is to get her to relax, I ask her about school, let her talk about her semester, ask what it was like living with Charlie. While she’s talking, gesturing with her fork some more, her face animated and alive as she tells me about her life, I gently press my leg against hers.

  At first she moves it away, but when I do it again, she pauses, staring at me for a beat. I hold her gaze, pressing my leg against her hard enough that she knows it’s on purpose. “Go on,” I encourage.

  She stares at me for a beat longer, her lips parted, and it’s tempting to lean over and kiss her right now. But it’s not the right time. Not yet.

  She thinks she wants me to kiss her now, but only because she feels weird about having sex with a guy that she hasn’t already been affectionate with in other ways.

  When I’m done with what I have planned, she’ll be begging me to kiss her because she can’t stand the thought of going another second without my lips on hers.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Lauren

  Brendan has turned up the charm since I mentioned the kissing thing. Or the not-kissing thing, as the case may be.

  It’s funny, because it’s not necessary. I mean, yeah, going from barely touching to sex without any kind of segue seems kind of … abrupt, hence me bringing up kissing first. But that doesn’t mean I need him to act like we’re dating or something. I know what this is. And I don’t need that.

  Even though I told him he didn’t need to charm me—okay, being truthful, he already has—he’s still being flirty and funny, encouraging me to blabber on about myself, looking me in the eyes, asking interested questions.

  And the touching.

  All the touching.

  It’s … disconcerting. But in a really fantastic way.

  First it was his leg pressing against mine. Then, after he finished his burger, he slipped his arm behind me along the booth. Now his hand is caressing my shoulder, and he’s looking deep into my eyes as I explain the distinction between staccato and spiccato, hanging on my every word.

  “I never knew that,” he mutters when I finish, his eyes scanning down to my lips. He does that every time I finish talking, and even though I know it’s intentional, I can’t help but wonder, is this it? Is he going to kiss me now?

  His hand caresses my shoulder, sliding to the back of my neck, his thumb passing slowly back and forth below my ear, and he leans in another inch, his eyes still trained on my lips.

  My breath catches, my lips part, and I’m staring at his lips moving closer to mine. Closer. Closer.
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  “What time is it?”

  I have to blink to make the words register. Then I jerk back. Or try to. But his hand on the back of my neck doesn’t really allow me much movement.

  Fumbling for my phone on the table beside the remains of my dinner, I manage to hit the button to light up the screen. “Wow. It’s almost seven. We should probably hit the road so we can go a little farther before we stop for the night.”

  He makes a rumbly sound in his chest, which has my girl parts clenching all on their own because it sounds so much like the growly sounds he made last night before he came. Then he lifts his free hand, two fingers resting under my chin, tipping my face up toward his.

  With his eyes once again trained on my mouth, he leans closer, and I part my lips, drawing in a half breath and holding it, waiting. This is it. He’s going to do it now.

  But instead of his lips meeting mine, he turns my head at the last second, and nuzzles my cheek. His breath fans hotly over my ear as he whispers, “Let’s go.”

  I shove his shoulder when he pulls back, leveling my best glare at him. “You’re such a tease.”

  He laughs, pulling his wallet out of his pants and leaving enough cash on the table to cover our meal and a tip. Then he links his fingers with mine and tugs me out of the booth, a wide smile still on his lips, his eyes heated as they scan over me.

  Once I’m standing, he leans in close to my ear, his tongue flicking out to taste the shell of my ear before he whispers, “The tease is just the lead up. Don’t worry. You won’t feel that way when we get to the hotel tonight.”

  My breath catches, and my knees go a little weak, making me clutch Brendan’s arm with my free hand. He chuckles again, low and sexy, wraps his arm around my waist, and leads me to the car.

  When he opens my door for me, I straighten away from him, looking up into his intense hazel eyes. “Seriously, Brendan. You don’t have to romance me. That’s not what we agreed on.”

  He takes a half step closer, looming over me, causing me to put my hands on his chest for balance. Once again he lowers his face to mine, making me think he might kiss me, but he doesn’t. Not on the mouth, anyway. His scruff scrapes against my cheek, warming me, then his lips pass over my jaw, down my neck, and his teeth graze the tendon there, drawing an involuntary gasp from me.

  His hands tighten around my waist, supporting me as I sag against him while he has his way with my neck and shoulder, lifting his head to suck my earlobe into his mouth, then pressing a soft kiss behind it, a rumble vibrating his chest.

  “You said I’d better make it good or I’m not getting into your pants.” His voice is hot and raspy by my ear. “I’m not willing to take any chances.” Soft lips glide across my cheek, stopping millimeters from my mouth—not actually kissing, just resting on my skin. And he lifts his head at the last second before actually kissing me. Again.

  I make a sound that’s half groan, half whimper. And any other time I’d be ashamed of myself. But I’m so far gone right now that I don’t even care.

  He lifts his head, his bright eyes meeting mine, a satisfied smile playing over his lips. “We have a couple more hours before we get to the hotel. Let’s get going.”

  Something like “unf” or “ergh” comes out of me. Maybe both. But I nod and obediently climb into the car, my brain scrambled by the feel of his chest under my hands, his face against mine, his lips on my skin.

  What will it feel like to kiss him finally?

  My hand drifts to my lips as I consider it, not really paying attention as he climbs into the car.

  “You alright over there?” The engine revs, vibrating the floorboards under my feet.

  Slowly, I turn my head his way, my eyes focusing on him at last. “Hmm?”

  His grin spreads. “You haven’t buckled your seatbelt.”

  I blink. “Oh. Right.” I pull my hand from my mouth, fumbling for the seatbelt behind my right shoulder. “Sorry.”

  His hand lands on my thigh, squeezing. “No apologies necessary.” As he pulls out, cranking the wheel with one hand to turn the corner, his fingers drift higher up my inner thigh. Just like earlier.

  I swallow, wishing I didn’t have on pants right now. “How far did you say the hotel was?”

  He darts a glance at me, his fingers questing farther up. “About a hundred and fifty miles. Think you can last that long?”

  Another wordless sound of anguish, longing, and anticipation comes from deep in my throat. “I don’t know.” I might combust before then with the way he’s teasing me. And I think he’d like it if that happened.

  After about an hour of Brendan’s teasing fingers sliding up and down my inner thigh, drifting lightly across my center a few times, and inane conversation, he pulls off at a rest stop.

  I blink when he removes his hand from my thigh for the first time since we got in the car, looking around, trying to figure out why we’re stopping. We haven’t been driving that long. And the hotel’s only another hour away …

  “Did you secretly drink a bunch of soda at dinner, and I didn’t realize it?”

  He laughs, shaking his head. “No. I just need to do something.”

  “Oh?” I pop an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

  Without saying anything, he pulls into a spot as far from the utilitarian brick building as possible, only partly lit by the orange glow of the streetlamps in the parking lot. Killing the engine, he unbuckles his seatbelt, turns and reaches for me. “This.”

  He unbuckles my seatbelt, then pulls me to him with one hand behind my neck and the other sliding around to my back. Once again his cheek is scraping across mine, his lips sliding along my skin, his teeth biting. He soothes each spot with his tongue, then presses a kiss there. An actual kiss this time, not just the friction of his lips on my neck and collarbone.

  When he sucks my earlobe into his mouth, I gasp, my head arching back, but his hand behind my neck doesn’t let me get away.

  Then he slides his lips along my jawline, hesitating next to my mouth.

  “Do it,” I whisper, urgency making my voice harsh. “Just do it already.”

  His stubble scrapes over my cheek again. “Do what?”

  “Kiss me. Now.”

  “Ask me nicely.” The calm, soothing tone of his whisper contrasts sharply with the rasp of my breath.

  “Dammit, Brendan. I’m not fucking kidding.” I reach a hand up to the back of his head, intending to bring his mouth to mine by force if necessary. “Quit teasing and follow through.”

  He pulls back enough that I can see his eyes flash in the dim light. “Oh, I intend to.”

  And with that, his lips are on mine, parting them, his tongue pushing into my mouth. He explores my mouth in long, deliberate strokes. Pulling back, he adjusts his angle and dives in again. His fingers flex where he holds me, and I echo the motion, gripping his neck with one hand and his bicep with the other, working to get closer.

  It’s everything I hoped it would be and more. Pressure and heat and want. So much want.

  When he pulls back, his chest is rising and falling as rapidly as mine. His pupils are dilated, the irises only thin golden bands as he examines my face, his gaze snagging on my lips again. He presses one more kiss there, no tongue this time, and lets out a noise that’s part satisfaction, part unmitigated desire.

  Then he releases me, turning back to the steering wheel, starting the car, and buckling his seatbelt.

  With fumbling fingers, I belatedly pull mine across my body and click it into place as he watches me, his gaze searing everywhere it lands. This guy knows exactly what he’s doing to me. He’s potent. And OMG, I don’t know how I’ve managed to live my life without experiencing anything that compares to this. And we haven’t even had sex yet.

  “Only one more hour,” he says. “Can you make it?” His voice is no longer smooth and unaffected. It’s husky and tortured.

  I nod once. “I think so. But I might burst into flames if you keep teasing me.”

  A grin splits
his face, staying there until we’re on the freeway, when his hand finds its way to my thigh again.

  Oh god.

  I’m not sure how I’m going to survive the next hour.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brendan

  Teasing Lauren for two hours in the car, only interrupted by the rest stop where I finally kissed her, is as torturous for me as it is for her.

  That kiss.

  Dammit.

  This girl.

  I know there’s no future here. No room for anything beyond this adventure. She still has a year and a half left of school, and I’ll be in California for my internship, learning the business side of producing and making contacts to launch my own career.

  This is only supposed to be a fling. But the way she responded to me …

  Fucking hell. I can’t wait to get inside her.

  When we get to the hotel I booked just outside of Des Moines, I park as close to the front door as I can, grateful my new winter coat hangs past my hips and effectively covers the massive hard-on hiding in my now too tight jeans. “Make sure you get everything you need now,” I grit out as I pull the keys from the ignition and unbuckle my seatbelt.

  Lauren’s lips tip up in a mischievous smirk. “Why? Can’t we just come back and get our things once we check in?”

  I let out a growl, hook my hand behind her neck, and pull her to me for another scorching kiss. She opens for me immediately, the spicy cinnamon of Hot Tamales lingering on her tongue, imprinting that flavor on my mind forever as something erotic. Her hands come up to my chest, her fingers curling, digging in, gripping my T-shirt in her fists. When I pull back, we’re both panting.

  “No. We can’t come back. Not anytime soon. Bring it all now.”

  She nods, her head bobbing loose and slow, her body limp against mine like a puppet whose strings have been cut.