Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Her eyes widen, and she looks away, letting out a slow breath. “How are you so normal?”

  “Ha. I’m not sure I’d say that I am. But thanks for thinking so.”

  When she turns her face back to me, she gives me a bemused smile. “I just forget, you know? That you used to be famous.”

  “Still kinda am.” Tugging her hand, I get us walking again, needing to move. An itchy feeling always settles between my shoulder blades when this subject comes up, and even though I know Lauren isn’t trying to use my celebrity or connections for her own nefarious purposes, the fact that lots of people do still makes it an uncomfortable subject.

  She nods, falling in step beside me, not seeming bothered by my sudden stops and starts. “Yeah, true. Your brother has you and Colt performing with him sometimes, so people have started paying attention again.”

  “Yeah. That’s made it harder to pretend I don’t know why someone might think I look familiar. My old pictures keep getting dug up and matched with current ones. People figure it out now.”

  She’s quiet for a beat, walking beside me. “Makes sense.”

  “It’s nice, though.” I glance at her and nudge her with my elbow. “The fact that you forget. Makes it easier to just be myself.”

  She smiles, a soft, private smile. “You’re pretty easy to just be myself around too.” After several more steps, she looks around. “So where are we going?”

  I let out a laugh. “I don’t know. I just figured we should keep walking.” That’s close enough to the truth, at least. “What do you feel like for dinner?”

  There’s a flash of heat in her eyes, and her grin turns wicked as she looks me down and up. I’m wearing a bulky coat, and she can’t see anything beyond that, but she’s definitely undressing me with her eyes. Which is making me hard. Again.

  She bites her lip and looks away, her eyelashes fanning over her cheeks. I bump her with my shoulder. “What?”

  “Gah!” She fans her face with her free hand. “That smolder. It’s powerful stuff.”

  “So powerful it makes it so you can’t even look at me, huh?”

  She giggles, glancing up at me out of the corner of her eye. “Not head on. Not in public, anyway. It’s surprising that they made Jonathan the face of Brash instead of you.”

  That makes me laugh. “I was just the drummer, remember? We’re never the face of the band. Plus, Colt would be mad to hear you say that, since he was the lead singer.”

  With a wave of her hand, she dismisses that. “He was just a baby, though. They couldn’t make him sexy.”

  “I was only fourteen,” I remind her.

  The look she gives me this time is assessing, almost calculating. “Yeah. I guess you were just a baby too. So was Jonathan, for that matter. But I was only twelve and thirteen when you guys had your run, so I thought you were both just dreamy.” She sighs and flutters her eyelashes at me.

  I know I have a goofy grin on my face, but I can’t help it. “Dreamy, huh?”

  She shrugs. “Something like that. I had posters of all of you all over my walls, and I kept all the magazines where you guys were interviewed, both as a group and the ones with just your brother.”

  “Did you fight Gabby for him?”

  She snort-laughs, looks at my face, and then laughs even harder. “No. Oh my god, no.” She shakes her head, her gaze abstracting as she accesses a memory. “The first time I met him, I tried to get his autograph—sort of jokingly, but I totally would’ve been thrilled if he’d given it to me—and Gabby scolded me and wouldn’t let him.”

  “I can see her doing that.”

  “Right? She was protective of him before she even really knew him. But his former stardom had nothing to do with why she fell for him. They obviously had chemistry and a connection from the very beginning. I wouldn’t have ever tried to get in the way of that.”

  I nod, thinking back to that semester when Jonathan met Gabby. “I was really pissed at her for a long time.”

  We stop at a corner, waiting for the crosswalk, and Lauren turns to look at me. “I remember. She vented to me about you when you guys came up for Jonathan’s graduation.”

  “About me specifically?”

  She tilts her head from side to side. “She did mention you, yes, but more just that you and Colt didn’t seem to like her much. And she was hoping to at least get someone on her side, since your mom was so dead set against her sticking around.”

  “Ah. Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck with my free hand. “You have to see it from our point of view, though. She’d already broken up with him once, and that was before anything was even settled. Touring, the publicity, living in the public eye—it isn’t easy. If she couldn’t handle that tiny taste before things even really got going without freaking out, how could we trust that she’d stick around when shit got real?”

  She nods. “Yeah. If the situation were reversed, I’d probably feel that way too. But it was hard on Gabby. That wasn’t really why she broke up with him.” With a wave of her hand and a shake of her head, she dismisses the subject. “Not that any of that matters. It’s all worked out for the best. They’re disgustingly happy, and their happiness has even bled over to give us this awesome trip. Now, the light’s about to change to go that way,” she points to our right, “but I’m not sure if that’s the way we need to go. Because you still haven’t said where we’re going.”

  With a laugh, I take in the cross streets, trying to figure out the best way to go. “What are you up for? Fancy? Hole in the wall? Comfort food from a chain you know and love?”

  She wrinkles her nose, considering, and the light changes, people streaming across the street, except for us, rooted in place while we figure out which direction to go. “Probably not fancy, because I’m not dressed for it.”

  “We could go back to the hotel and get your dress from the wedding.”

  She straight up laughs at that. “I’m not wearing a bridesmaid’s dress out to eat. Plus, I don’t want to make you spend that kind of money.”

  “You know I don’t mind.”

  “Still.” She looks around, still thinking. “I’m good with trying something new. I’m not a fan of seafood, so nowhere that only serves that. But anything between super fancy on down to hole in the wall is fine with me.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Lauren

  A few hours later after sharing slices of authentic New York pizza—we opted for hole in the wall served by grumpy old men who probably still use Grandma’s recipe from the old country—and several earth-shattering, mind-numbing orgasms, Brendan and I are lazing in bed in that sleepy, cuddly, sated state particular to the aftermath of amazing sex.

  He’s lying behind me, one hand lightly trailing up and down my arm, sometimes running over my hip and down my leg, back up over my belly, where he cinches his arm tightly around my waist and pulls me even closer to him. I turn my head, and he drops a light kiss on my lips.

  “What do you want to do tomorrow?” His voice is quiet, just a shade above a whisper. “Since we’re popping your New York cherry, we better make it good. Especially since we don’t know how much time we’ll get.”

  That thought sobers me a little.

  “No calls from your parents today?”

  I shake my head, brow furrowed. “Which means they’ll call tomorrow for sure.”

  He kisses the wrinkles on my forehead. “Then we’ll deal with that tomorrow. For now, let’s plan out how to make the most of whatever time we have. We’ll have to go to the Statue of Liberty, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  His hazel eyes are bright and happy. “What else? You must have something on your list of places you have to see if you only get one day in New York City.”

  I smirk. “Well, I’ve already got more than one day. There’s today. And tomorrow.” I hold up two fingers and wiggle them. “That’s two days.”

  He narrows his eyes at me. “Not necessarily. If your parents demand I put you on the next flight o
ut, you might only end up being here for twenty-four hours.”

  I open my mouth to automatically protest, but at his raised eyebrow I concede his point. “Okay, fine. Then sure. We’ll at least go take a passing glance at Lady Liberty. Do you think those city tour things are running in December? Maybe we should do one of those.”

  Brendan wrinkles his nose like he smells something bad. “Really? That’s what you want to do? A hack touristy thing?”

  I throw up a hand. “You’re the one that started with the Statue of Liberty. How is that not a hack touristy thing?”

  He lets out a gasp. “Hack touristy thing? The symbol of freedom and immigration lighting the way to America’s shores? Are you serious?”

  “Oh, um, well,” I stammer. “I didn’t realize it was that important to you. Uh … did your family—”

  He starts laughing, and I realize he’s just fucking with me. So I smack his pec, which probably hurts my hand more than him. “Shut up.”

  Dropping his head again, he kisses me. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist. But it is iconic, even if it is a major tourist attraction. Seriously, though. What else? You wanna see if we can catch a performance at Carnegie Hall? See a show on Broadway?”

  I bite my lip. “The Carnegie Hall thing sounds cool. And in a perfect world, I’d love to see a show on Broadway, but time is a factor, so that’s probably out. I’d at least like to see the outside of Carnegie Hall.”

  Staring at the ceiling, I think about the things I most want to see here.

  “What is it?” he prompts. “I can see you thinking of something. Spit it out.”

  “The castle in Central Park.”

  “That’s it?”

  I lock eyes with him. “Yeah. We already did the ice skating. Those are the other two things at the top of my list. You have any suggestions?”

  He stares at the wall for a second before returning his eyes to mine. “I know a guy that could get us into an exclusive club. If you’re here another night, that could be fun.”

  My eyebrows jump. “Did you just offer to use your celebrity connections to get us in somewhere?”

  He laughs, wrapping his arm around me again and burying his face in my shoulder, his body jiggling behind me. With a gasp, he lifts his head. “No. Not exactly. He’s the guy that books the DJs. Said if I was ever in town to give him a call, and he’ll get me a slot.”

  That has me turning over to look at him. “So if we went, you’d play your own mixes?”

  He nods, gaze steady. “Yeah. Which means you’d end up hanging alone for a bit, probably. If you’re not into it, it’s no big deal. I just thought …”

  Clutching his arm, I don’t let him finish. “Yes. We should definitely do that. Call your guy. Or text him or whatever.”

  “You want me to try smoke signals?”

  “Ha ha.” I give his shoulder a shove. “You’re hilarious. If I’m here long enough, I want to hear your mixes and see everyone go crazy over them. That sounds like fun.”

  His gaze softens, like my saying that means something to him. But I don’t want to think about why my interest or approval would really matter.

  It’s not like this can go anywhere.

  We were both clear about that from the beginning.

  So to erase the feelings of hope and happiness that are springing up from the look on his face and the nonstop affection, I lean in and kiss him, pushing him onto his back and straddling his hips.

  “Someone’s happy to see me,” I purr as I circle my pelvis over his thickening cock.

  “He’s always happy to see you.” His hands clamp onto my hips, dragging me up and down his length until he’s hard and twitching beneath me. Then he reaches over and grabs a condom, tearing it open and taking it out. With a tap on my ass, he says, “Up.”

  I lift onto my knees, and he unrolls the latex over his cock. Instead of lining up and filling me like I expect, he brings one of his hands up, rubbing the ridge of his index finger back and forth over my clit. Then he plunges that finger inside me, pumping it in and out. “Yeah. That’s it. You’re so fucking wet for me.”

  All I can do is moan out a “Yessss.” Because I am.

  “You want my cock?”

  I nod, biting my lip.

  “Say it.”

  “I want your cock.”

  “How bad?”

  “Oh my god. Just fuck me already.”

  He lets out a low, dirty laugh, and with one hand holding his cock and the other on my hip, he guides me down onto him. Once he’s notched inside me, his other hand comes out, but he doesn’t push down. And he doesn’t thrust his hips up.

  “I want to feel you sink down onto me. Slow. Go slow.”

  With my hands on his chest for balance, my eyes locked with his, I impale myself, the now-familiar stretch feeling so good. And I keep my pace excruciatingly slow.

  When I finally settle my weight onto him, he arches his head back, hissing air through his teeth. “Fuck. You feel so damn good.” His eyes meet mine again. “I’m going to miss this when I have to send you home.”

  “Me too.” The words tumble out of me before I can think to call them back.

  Fortunately, Brendan doesn’t give me any time to examine those feelings. And I have no intention of doing so later, either.

  He presses his hips up, burrowing deeper inside me, making me gasp. “Time to bounce on my cock, baby. I want you to use me to make yourself cum. And then I’m going to pound that pussy until I follow you. Got it?”

  “Fuck yes.” I’m grinding on him before he even finishes talking, my hips swiveling, lifting, falling, swiveling again.

  “Yeah, baby. That’s so fucking hot. Keep going.” As always, Brendan’s dirty talk, his filthy encouragements, arouse me as much as his hands and his body. Everything about him gets me hot and primed to explode.

  He reaches up for my breasts, thumbs circling my nipples and making them even harder, then pinching them between his thumbs and fingers, tugging and tweaking and rolling them as I move faster on top of him. “Yeah, you like when I play with your tits. You have such gorgeous nipples. I could lick them and bite them all fucking day. If we had more time, I’d set aside a day just to do that. Keep you naked in the hotel, play with your tits, and fuck you silly.” At my groan of arousal, he gives me a wicked smile. “You like that idea? Hell, maybe we should schedule a meet up sometime just for that.”

  “Oh god …”

  “Yeah. A whole day of fucking and playing with this delicious body of yours. That’s my fantasy.”

  Ungh. Now it’s mine too.

  One of his hands slides down my belly, his thumb slipping between my legs, finding and circling my clit, coiling the tension in my belly even tighter. “Come on, Lauren. I’m not gonna last much longer, so I need you to get there soon. Can you do it? Can you come for me? With my cock in your pussy and my thumb on your clit and my voice in your ears. Come for me. Come now so I can flip you on your back and pound us both to oblivion.”

  And the tension snaps, my muscles jerking as I come hard. While I’m in the middle of it, Brendan does exactly as promised. His arms wrap around me, and he rolls us over, one hand catching behind my knee and pulling my leg up, opening me wide for him, hammering into me, his face tight with effort.

  He’s relentless, and it keeps my orgasm going for far longer than normal, and it’s all I can do to hold on till he thrusts hard and deep, grinding against me as he trembles through his own orgasm before collapsing over me.

  He slumps over to the side so he’s not crushing me, and I lie there breathing hard for a minute, our bodies still joined. Turning my head, I find his eyes watching me. “Holy fuck,” I whisper.

  He grins. “Holy fuck is right. That was a religious experience.”

  My answering laugh pushes him out of me, and he groans at the movement, reaching between us to hold onto the condom as he pulls the rest of the way out.

  When he climbs back into bed, he pulls the sheet up over us and pulls me against his ches
t again, spooning behind me and placing a soft kiss on my shoulder. “Damn, woman. Maybe it’s a good thing this trip is so short. You’d kill me draining me dry like that every night.”

  I force out a laugh to cover the slice of pain at his words. They shouldn’t hurt. Because this was never supposed to be more than this. It is a good thing we have a definite end date. This would only be messy and end in heartbreak. There’s no other way for it to happen. We have different lives, different goals, different priorities.

  It’s just a fun fling. A fantasy fulfillment trip.

  And it’ll all be over soon.

  But if that’s a good thing, why does it make me want to cry?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Brendan

  After a long, cold day of playing tourists, followed by shopping and dinner from room service, Lauren stands in front of the mirror tugging on the hem of her new emerald green dress, adjusting the straps, and fussing with her boobs.

  The boob thing is fucking hot. Just sayin’.

  I had no idea women plumped their tits like that before going out.

  She’s suddenly still, and when I lift my eyes to the reflection of her face in the mirror, she’s wearing a smirk.

  “What?”

  She snorts out a laugh. “You were just staring at my boobs like you’re mesmerized. I was half expecting drool to be dripping from the corner of your mouth.”

  I shrug. “Can you blame me? You just reached inside your dress and adjusted your boobs, then felt yourself up from the outside too.”

  With a laugh, she turns to face me. “They have to look symmetrical and even.” She smooths her hands over her hips. “I still can’t believe you bought this dress for me. You really didn’t have to.”

  “We’re going to a club. I’ve seen what you have in your suitcase. And as much as you rock the leggings and off-the-shoulder sweater look, I didn’t think you’d feel good wearing that to a dance club.”