Overtones (Songs and Sonatas Book 6)

by Jerica MacMillan

  I’m not sure if he’s worried about elevator security cameras or if this is some game to heighten the anticipation, but I can’t wipe the grin off my face. And from his reflection in the shiny, mirrored interior, neither can he.

  With a ding, the elevator doors slide open, and Brendan guides me forward at an unhurried pace. I’m tempted to sprint to our room just to see what he does, but with the way I’m pinned to his side, plus my throbbing feet in these torture boots, I’m not sure I’d be able to get away.

  And really, I don’t want to get away. The only good that would come from running is getting caught in the end. I’m well and truly caught already. There’s no use in trying to deny it.

  Once we’re in the room, Brendan releases me, reaching out to flip the deadbolt and close the safety latch before turning to face me, his eyes hot. Predatory.

  When he takes a step toward me, I instinctively take a step back. He smirks.

  “Did you enjoy dancing tonight?”

  Swallowing, I nod. “Yes.” My voice is hoarse, low, sexy. “Especially to your music.”

  He takes another step closer. This time I hold my ground. “You liked being up on that platform for everyone to watch?”

  “I liked dancing for you to watch.”

  One eyebrows lifts. “Would you want to dance for me now?”

  I expected him to close the distance between us, but with that question he stops, leaning toward me like he wants to reach for me but is holding himself back.

  Licking my lips, I shake my head, my mouth forming a soundless, “No.”

  And then his arm wraps around my back, pulling me to him with a suddenness that steals my breath. His mouth claims mine, but rather than the ferocity I expect, his kiss is almost tender. Just a shade too hungry for that description, like he’s still holding himself back.

  He backs me up, steering me with his hand on my hip like we’re still dancing, but this time to the thrumming of our hearts instead of the artificially produced beats of the dance club. When my legs hit the bed, I sink down, and he follows, his mouth only leaving mine to trail hot, wet kisses down my jaw, my neck, over my collarbone. His fingers slide under the straps of my dress, peeling it down my shoulders to give him access to more skin.

  With my head thrown back, I let him taste and suck and bite where he wants until I’m squirming, restless to get rid of this dress. I make myself wait, curious to see what happens if I don’t demand what I want.

  But that doesn’t last long, because his hands are wandering over my body, palming my breasts over my dress and bra, sliding over my hip, caressing the skin on my thigh, but never touching where and how I want. Which is on my bare skin. Tugging my nipples. Rubbing my clit. Getting me ready for his delicious invasion.

  The movement of my arms is limited because of the way he’s pulled down the straps, but I manage to grip handfuls of his shirt and pull enough that he lifts his head, his eyelids heavy and his eyes dark with lust. “Clothes. Off. Now.” I give his shirt another tug to make my point just in case words don’t compute.

  I didn’t need to worry, though, because his predatory smile comes back, and he slowly slides the straps of my dress back onto my shoulders. Then he stands and steps back, pulling off his clothes, his eyes never leaving me until he’s standing before me completely naked, his long, hard dick in his hand as he pumps himself slowly.

  “You want this?”

  My eyes are fixed there as I nod slowly. He lets out a low chuckle and steps closer to me, his free hand running through my hair. With no other encouragement, I lean forward and place a delicate kiss right on the tiny slit leaking salty fluid. His breath comes out on a shaky exhale, and his hand tightens in my hair as I dart my tongue out for a swirling lick, then open my mouth and give him a suck. Just on the head, because his large hand is still covering most of the shaft. But for some reason that just makes it even hotter.

  “Fuck, Lauren.” He pulls back, releasing himself and taking my hands, pulling me up to standing again. “Turn around.”

  Giving him my back, I pull my hair over my shoulder, allowing him access to the zipper, enjoying the weight of his hand running down my back as he pulls it down, and the heat of his mouth as he kisses the nape of my neck.

  My dress falling loose around my torso, Brendan unhooks my bra, and I pull my arms out of the straps, letting my bra fall to the floor as I push the dress down over my hips. He wraps his arms around me from behind, one hand cupping my breast, capturing my nipple with his thumb and finger, tugging and twisting as he holds my torso against his, his erection nestled against the crease of my ass. His other hand starts at my waist, but travels down inside the silky fabric of my thong, cupping me, then moving his fingers till he finds my clit, sliding back to see how wet I am already.

  “Christ, Lauren. You’re so fucking wet. So ready for me.” He presses a kiss below my ear, his breath fanning hotly over my skin. “I love that you get so wet so fast. All for me. Do you get this wet for other guys? Never mind. Don’t answer that. I don’t want to think about you with other guys.” He nips my earlobe with his teeth. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine. Forever. Even though you’re leaving tomorrow and our deal was that we’d leave it at that, you’ll always be mine. Even when you move on to someone else, some part of you will still belong to me.”

  My world seems to tilt, and I can’t breathe at his words. But he doesn’t give me any time to process them, turning me in his arms, his mouth fusing with mine, demanding my capitulation. And I don’t want to resist. Even if his words are confusing.

  I push them away. I’ll have plenty of time to consider the implication of what he’s saying tomorrow on my way home.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Brendan

  I can’t believe I just said that.

  The only thing worse would be if I made a declaration of undying love.

  To cover it, I crush her body to mine, determined to obliterate words with actions. With physical sensations. With fucking.

  Because that’s what this is. Fucking. Nothing more.

  I need to get my head straight, because in the last few days of fantasy fulfillment and trying to make sure she has the best time possible for her all-too-short visit to New York, I seem to have gotten wrapped up in the idea of us as more than just friends with benefits.

  And that’s impossible.

  Hell, after this we’re not even going to be friends.

  This is a short-lived fling with a definite—and imminent—end date.

  After tomorrow morning, I’ll probably never see her again. Or if I do it’ll be with my brother and his wife as a buffer.

  My gut twists at the thought of never seeing her again, but the idea of a potential future date when I’d see her and she wouldn’t acknowledge that there was anything more between us sucks my breath away.

  So I push both thoughts aside and focus on the here and now. On the way Lauren’s body presses against mine, the heavy weight of her breasts in my hand, the smooth silk of her skin. The pleasure of slowly sliding her tiny panties off her body. Unzipping those fuck-me boots and listening to her groan as her feet are finally set free from their confines. Watching her roll down her stockings and tossing them to the side so she’s totally naked and lying propped on her arms on the bed, her hair wild around her, her ever-present smirk-smile on her lips, waiting for me to kiss her. To lick her. To make her come. And fuck us both into oblivion.

  And that’s just what I do, drinking in her sigh as I stroke her, the hitch of her breath as I slide inside her, her moans as I drive her over the cliff till she’s shuddering through her orgasm, dragging me along with her.

  We spend all night naked and in bed. Alternately napping, waking, and fucking again. I almost think of it as making love, but that way lies madness. This isn’t love. It can’t be. It’s lust.

  I need to get my fill of her while I have the chance, because this is it. This is the last chance I’m ever going to get.

  And I’ve barely take
n the edge off my need for her.

  I don’t even want to sleep, only exhaustion and my body’s need to recover pulling me under, my arms wrapped around Lauren, never letting her out of reach except for necessary trips to the bathroom.

  The next morning we’re both hungover from a night of too much sex. My dick is chafing from the condoms. But when she turns on the shower, I can’t stay out.

  I follow her in, enjoying the way she turns and smiles at me over her shoulder, ignoring the slight tinge of sadness in her face.

  She steps under the water and turns to me, sliding her arms up my shoulders and around my neck when I step in, bringing my face to hers for another kiss. The sharp edge of hunger is gone now. But this is it. Our absolute last chance.

  After the shower we’ll get dressed and check out and take my car to the airport. I’ll walk her to the security line, hug her and kiss her goodbye. I fucking hate saying goodbye to people I like.

  Tipping her head back, my hands tangle with Lauren’s as we both reach up to run our hands over her hair under the water. She laughs, and the sound is a balm, helping patch the parts of me that are starting to fracture as we draw closer to her inevitable departure.

  I’m a mess, and I hate it. I don’t get attached to girls like this. In my experience, they’re more trouble than they’re worth.

  But Lauren is once again trying to prove me wrong. She’s not the man-eating flirt I pegged her as at the wedding. She’s funny and sweet and sarcastic and a really good listener.

  And fuck I love the way she tastes, the sounds she makes when I touch her, the way she resists me, which makes it all the sweeter when she gives in.

  Right now there’s no resistance. No time for it. No desire for it.

  She drops her hands, letting me wet her hair and shampoo it. Passing me the conditioner after the shampoo is rinsed out. Moving where I want as I wash her body, slowly and softly, making sure to caress her the way I’ve learned she likes the most, her nipples hard little points begging for my mouth. And once the soap is rinsed away, I lean over and suck one between my lips, scrubbing it with my tongue. Releasing it, I give its sister the same attention.

  Lauren’s hands clutch at my head, her short fingernails digging into my scalp, the sound of her gasp lost in the running water.

  Dropping to my knees, I kiss her belly button before lifting one leg and placing it on the edge of the tub, thumbing her open and swiping my tongue across her from opening to clit.

  Her fingers grip and release and grip my hair again and again as I repeat the action. “Brendan,” she pants. “I can’t … I don’t want to fall. I can’t let go like this.”

  “You can. Lean back against the wall. I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.” I squeeze her ass where I’m holding her, providing support. “Let go. I’ve got you.” And I press my face back to her center, lapping at her sweet juices, sucking on her clit, pressing my thumb against her opening. Her legs are shuddering, one of her hands leaving my head to squeak against the tile, searching for somewhere to hang on.

  I don’t let up. Sucking, circling, licking, keeping up the rhythm that I know gets her there the fastest and the hardest. Every time.

  And this time is no different.

  With a cry that’s half scream, half moan, she comes, her weight dropping more fully into my hands as her knees give out, her legs twitching with her full body orgasm.

  I finally relent, unable to resist giving her a few last licks just to feel her shudder around me. And then I stand, driving inside her, her bent leg hitched around my hip.

  With her back still pressed against the wall, I pound into her, wanting her to feel this, feel me, the whole way home. It’s not until the last second that I realize I didn’t put on a condom, and I pull out just in time to press against the slick skin of her belly and finish there, painting her with my cum like I did that first night.

  We’re both breathing hard, and I don’t even want to meet her eyes as we catch our breath. God, I’m a fucking moron. First I tell her that she’s mine forever and then I fuck her without a condom like I’m trying to get her pregnant. What the hell is wrong with me?

  But then she huffs out a laugh, and I have to look at her. Her eyes are bright, and it seems to be a combination of unshed tears and genuine amusement. I choose to focus on the amusement, and one corner of my mouth tugs up in an answering smile. “What’s so funny?”

  She shakes her head, pressing it back against the tile, her lips still turned up at the corners as her eyes wander over my face. “At least this time when you came all over me, I’m in the shower already. Decided to end the way we started, huh?”

  Leaning back, I look down and watch the water start to wash away the evidence of my stupidity, needing to clear my throat before I can speak. “Guess so.”

  She leans more into the water, running her hand over her belly to completely rinse away all remnants of me. And some stupid caveman part of me wishes I’d come inside her. What if …

  Before I can complete the thought, she turns and cups my face, pulling my mouth to hers for a sweet closed-mouth kiss. When she pulls back, she continues holding my face with her hands like she holds my eyes with hers. “Thank you. This trip has been amazing. I wish I didn’t have to go today. But everything about this, from the spontaneity of the whole thing to actually ice skating at Rockefeller Center to being with you like this, has been so much better than anything I could’ve imagined. Thank you for everything.”

  Her eyes dart back and forth between mine, shining with sincerity, and I hate the way this feels so final. So much like a goodbye while we’re still naked, still in the shower. Swallowing past the tightness in my throat, I force a smile. “You’re welcome. My pleasure.”

  She chuckles, giving me one more peck. “I’m sure. Mine too.”

  And with a sassy smile, she releases me, pushing the shower curtain aside and slipping out. “I’ll let you finish your shower by yourself. I think I’d just be a distraction, and we do have to get to the airport sooner than later.”

  “Right.” Fortunately, my voice comes out firm and solid, not broken and hoarse like I’m upset. Because she’s leaving. And she’s totally okay with it.

  I stand rooted to the spot, the water pelting my chest, listening as she grabs a towel and rubs it over herself quickly, then the bathroom door opens and closes, and I’m alone.

  Just like I’m about to be for the drive home. And the foreseeable future after.

  Because after this, why would I want to hook up with anyone else?

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Lauren

  Blinking rapidly, I refuse to let the tears gathering in my eyes fall down my cheeks as I wrap myself in a towel and leave Brendan in the shower. I managed to keep my voice steady as I left, at least.

  The need to protect myself runs deep, and so I’ve already reverted to being flippant and glib. Snark will come next, if the moment calls for it. Sarcasm. These are all my stock in trade.

  Quickly toweling off, I pull on leggings, a comfy long-sleeved tee, warm socks, and my flat knee-high boots. Good clothes for flying. Easy to remove shoes. My wrap sweater to layer over the tee, and I can deal with whatever the airport and airplane throw at me, temperature wise. Then I busy myself with packing, trying to pretend I’m not listening for the sound of the shower turning off, wondering what Brendan will say or do next. Hoping that he takes my cue and doesn’t make any more declarations about belonging to him forever or anything.

  I need glib and flippant right now. Otherwise I’ll dissolve into a messy messy mess, and no one wants that. Least of all me.

  That’s not our deal.

  Even if he’s trying to change the parameters now, or was in the middle of all the sex, that’s too bad. He can’t. I won’t let him.

  When he finally emerges, towel wrapped low around his hips, a rogue droplet of water running over his chest, he smirks at the way my eyes devour his body. “If you keep looking at me like that, your attempt to not become a d
istraction will have failed. Don’t forget, I know what you like to wear under your leggings.”

  My cheeks heat at his words, like he hasn’t said a thousand filthier things to me in the last few days. My eyes drop back to the shirt in my hands that I’m rolling to stuff into the corner of my suitcase.

  I clear my throat. “When I’m going to be in public for a long time I wear a thong.”

  His voice in my ear makes me gasp, because I didn’t know he’d stepped right behind me. “You think that’s somehow better?”

  Twisting, I lightly slap him on the shoulder. “Behave.”

  He catches my hand and kisses my palm, his eyes warm with some emotion that goes deeper than lust. “If you insist.”

  “I do.” Sadly, my steady flippant voice is gone, replaced by breathy and low, which makes him smirk even more.

  Clearing my throat, I return my attention to my suitcase. “I need to finish packing.”

  He sighs, and this time I’m aware of his movement as he steps away. The crazy part of my brain says I can feel the loss of his warmth, and I have to suppress a shiver. Not a sexy shiver. A shiver from the chill of not having his body behind me anymore.

  God, what’s happening to me? I’m being completely ridiculous. And no matter what he says, a guy like him doesn’t want some clingy chick who’s still in college a thousand miles away calling him and stalking him on social media.

  No. We’re sticking to the script.

  No exchanging numbers. No following on social media. No contact.

  That was our agreement from the beginning. And no matter how my rogue feelings might protest and try to convince me otherwise, I’m not going to be the crazy redheaded stereotype and beg for more.

  We finish getting ready in silence, and Brendan calls down to the front desk to check out. He’s driving me to the airport in his car.