Worthy of the Harmony (Mountains & Men Book 2)

by Martin, R. C.

  She squeezes my fingers once more and then lets me go. “Thank you,” she says before she disappears into the darkness.

  Derrick clicks the beat and then Knox starts plucking out his solo. The stage lights come up and the crowd gets even louder. I know I only have a few more seconds before I have to be out there, but there’s one more person I want to share this moment with.

  I turn and see Millie staring straight at me, and my heart skips a beat.

  Fucking hell. She’s turned me into a damn pussy.

  I won’t complain, though. She’s totally worth it.

  I slip out of my leather jacket and hang it around her shoulders. “Hold onto this for me,” I murmur into her ear. She nods and I flash a quick smirk before smacking a kiss against her lips. “Gotta go, doll face.”

  HE WALKS AWAY from me, and the second he steps into the spotlight and onto that stage, I feel completely and utterly empty. I try shaking off the sensation; I try shoving it into the back of my mind; but the funny thing about emptiness is—you can’t just get rid of it. It’s not an emotion that can be ignored or a pain that can be placated. It’s a feeling that leaves you hollow, and the only way to reverse the condition is to replace or refill what was taken.

  Only, Sage is irreplaceable.

  “We’re Mountains & Men—and we’re about to get Wild!”

  His introduction is brief, but when he belts out the first note of Wild, the band perfectly in sync, the roar of the audience sends a very clear and enthusiastic message: they might not have known who Mountains & Men were a few minutes ago, but they sure as shit know who they are now—and they want more.

  Violet throws her arms in the air, yelling her encouragement, her voice lost in the cacophony of sounds that fill the entire building. When she starts singing along, every word memorized, a pang of despair hits me square in the chest—resounding off of the walls of my hollow insides.

  I’m losing him.

  Right here. Right now.

  I’m losing him.

  He doesn’t belong to me. He belongs to them.

  He belongs to the crowd, to the countless number of people who will sing with him.

  Without my permission, my emptiness starts filling up with unwelcome memories.

  I think of Clay…

  Six weeks is a long time to keep his dick in his pants…

  I think of the green room…

  Beer. Booze. Boobs.

  The amount of scantily clad women hanging out with the bands backstage is probably nothing to any of them. But that was before the show; before the after-party; before the copious amounts of alcohol that I know will be consumed before the rising of the sun.

  I think of that embrace…

  Maddox held onto Sage like a lifeline, and isn’t that what they are to each other? All of them—they are more than family, bound together by something more meaningful than blood—by the very thing that gives life to their blood—their dream!

  I think of Alex…

  I saw it. Even in the darkness, I saw the way she reached for his hand. She’s one of them now…one of the men he’d go to war for. In her moment of need, he’ll be there for her, too. It may be true that he would never betray me, but leaving me and betraying me are not the same thing.

  Now—as I look out onto the stage, I see the man who holds my heart and know that I will never get it back. And as he struts before the fans like the peacock that he is, his rich, smooth, tenor voice making my insides quiver, I know that where he goes, I will not go. Tonight is his beginning. His future is even brighter than he is—I can sense it. Yet, in spite of how I feel about the man, I know that we will not last; that the grandeur of all that awaits him will rip him away from me.

  I can’t keep him.

  I fooled myself into believing that I could.

  Nine days.

  He’ll be gone in nine days. Right here, right now, I’m wise enough to know that whatever promises he makes will be made in vain, even if he thinks he means them now.

  The truth—the fucking god’s honest truth—is that they always leave.

  Always.

  I feel the heat of a body behind me and a chill runs down my spine.

  “Should have known, with a catch like you, he’s the heartthrob—the fan-favorite type,” Clay speaks into my ear. “Like I said—you need me, you look me up, baby.”

  I clench my teeth together, willing myself to stay calm.

  Nine days.

  I slip my arms into Sage’s jacket. The weight of it wrapped around me and his scent holding me brings me comfort.

  I won’t get to keep him, I know, but for just this moment—I want him and he wants me and that’s all that matters.

  Right?

  Just then, he looks over at me and winks.

  I don’t want to love him, I remind myself. It would kill me to love him.

  IT’S BEEN FOUR days since our show at The Fillmore and the residue of my stage high still lingers. Being up there in front of all those people—the crowd so expansive that I couldn’t even see where it ended—it was one of those life changing moments that I’ll never forget. And the best part is, I’m about to do that over and over and over again. In five days, we load up and head out for our first leg of the tour. A week from today, I’ll be playing for a Texas crowd.

  Fucking Texas!

  It’s time that big ass state knew our name.

  “You’re doing it again,” says Sarah with a laugh.

  I look over at her, from where I sit on the stool behind the front counter at Little Bird, and watch as she restocks the pastry case. I know I’m not the only one around here who’s glad to have little miss blondie back. Brandon’s been in an exceptionally good mood since she’s been home, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Millie says that Sarah hasn’t slept at the apartment since her return.

  Though, she can’t really say for sure. I’ve been keeping her quite busy.

  “Hello! Earth to Sage.”

  “Sorry, what?” I ask, shaking my head as I focus on what Sarah is saying.

  “You’re going to be like this all week, aren’t you? Here but not really here before you’re gone for good.”

  “What are you talking about? I’ll be back.”

  She stops what she’s doing and looks right at me, resting her hand on her popped out hip. “Do you really believe that? I mean, don’t get me wrong, your job will still be here when you get back, but do you honestly think you’ll need it?”

  I chuckle nervously, shrugging my shoulders as I shake my head. “Sarah—I have no clue. But I sure as hell hope not. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

  “Hey, kid, what are you still doing here?” asks Brandon as he comes from the back. He passes me and heads straight for Sarah, kissing her forehead before he starts timing espresso shots.

  I look at the clock on the register and hop off the stool. “Shit. What am I still doing here?” I pull off my apron, tossing it under the counter before grabbing my jacket as I walk around to the other side. “Two cinnamon swirl coffee cakes, please.”

  “Two, huh?” Sarah says with a grin as she bags up my order. “Might one of these be for your girlfriend?” she asks, grossly exaggerating the word.

  “This is the last Tuesday we’ll have for a while,” I mutter with a shrug. “Just want her to know I’m not gone yet.”

  “You know what? You’re not too bad at this boyfriend thing.”

  She rings me up and I hand over the bills I owe her before snatching up my sack of goodies.

  “Sarah,” I begin to say, backing my way out of the lobby. “I’m the best she’s ever had.” She laughs and I wink before turning to make my exit.

  It takes me twenty minutes to get to campus, and when I arrive at Millie’s office, I find it locked. I’m not surprised or bothered. I know she’ll be making her way around the corner any minute now. While I wait, I hop on Facebook and scroll through my feed. The guys and I acquired a few more friends on the social media network
after having met Twisted Tuesday and Lawful Sinners. Everyone’s been talking about the tour, posting clips from our last show, and creating the necessary hype for our first few stops.

  I hear the echo of a pair of heels as someone makes her way down the hallway. I pocket my phone, hoping it’s my girl. Sure enough, she comes into view and the sight of her makes my dick jerk. She’s got on a dress. It’s navy blue and covered in a subtle pattern that you’d miss if you weren’t paying attention. The top is cut like a blazer, closed halfway down her chest—only she’s not wearing a shirt underneath. The long sleeves are folded up her forearm, the gold belt around her waist reminds me of what lies underneath, and the skirt hangs just above her knees—her bare knees.

  “You’re wearing a dress,” I murmur, a devious smile curling my lips.

  She approaches me with a straight face, pressing her freehand against my chest as she pushes herself up on her tiptoes. She puckers her lips and I lean down, giving her what she wants. When I pull away, she whispers, “I am. What are you going to do about it?”

  “Well, doll face, I would take you against the wall if you’d let me, but since you have rules—”

  “Fuck my rules, Sage,” she breathes.

  The feel of her breath against my lips, coupled with the promise of her words, sends a rush of blood to my dick. I kiss her again, this time reaching for her ass and pulling her against me. “Open the goddamn door, Millicent, and stop teasing me before I take you in this hallway.”

  “You have a condom?”

  I arch an eyebrow at her ridiculous question. When I get back, I fully intend on convincing her that we don’t need the rubbers. For now, I’m too turned on to argue. “Have you seen my girlfriend?” I ask, giving her ass a squeeze. “I don’t leave home without one.”

  A small smile plays at her lips and she pulls away from me, reaching for her keys before unlocking the door. I follow her inside and she shuts us in before twisting the lock, not even bothering with the lights. The second she drops her bag, I drop mine into the nearest chair and my hands are around her hips, guiding her back against the wall and out of sight of the narrow window beside the door.

  My mouth goes straight for her neck. Her hair is pulled back into a long ponytail, giving me full access to what I want. I lick and suck from her jaw, all the way down her chest, until my lips meet the fabric of her dress. She smells amazing and she tastes delicious, and when I press my hard-on against her stomach, the sound of her whimper is my undoing.

  I reach for my wallet and she tugs at the button of my jeans. She frees my cock just as I get the condom open, and her greedy hands slide underneath my shirt as I roll it on.

  “Are you ready for me, Millie?” I ask, reaching up her dress. I yank off her thong, pulling it from around her ankles before throwing it over my shoulder. As I stand up, I dip a finger between her slick folds.

  “I’m ready, baby,” she insists, grabbing hold of the back of my neck. “I need your cock. Right now, Sage. I need—”

  She gasps as I lift her up and penetrate her entrance in one swift motion. Her legs lock behind my back and I palm her bare ass. The warmth of her skin in my hands and her hot pussy around my dick takes my breath away.

  “Oh, Sage—yes,” she mewls. “Fuck me, baby. Harder!”

  A growl crawls its way up my throat and I pound into her. It’s not long before I feel a bead of sweat trickle down my back. It’s hot as hell in my jacket, but I can’t stop. Not for anything. She feels so fucking incredible.

  “God, Millie. I can’t get enough of you, doll face.”

  “Kiss me,” she mutters.

  I’m quick to obey, tangling my tongue with hers as I rock in and out of her. She sighs into my mouth before she sucks on my lip. When she lets me go, I nip along the length of her jaw and she grips my hair. Her legs tighten around me, causing her heels to dig into my backside. Every sound that escapes her lips pulls me closer and closer to my release. When she tilts her head back, closing her eyes as she frees a long moan, my balls start to tighten.

  Love it when she sings to me.

  Knowing that I’m not going to last much longer, I slide one of my hands around until I find her clit with my thumb. As I begin to massage her sweet spot, her mouth falls open and her eyes find mine.

  “Baby, I’m going to come! I’m going to—fuck, Sage! God, yes!”

  Her pussy squeezes my dick and I pump into her once more before my own release immobilizes me. I groan, pressing my forehead against hers as my orgasm sends a shock of pleasure up my spine. For a moment, I wonder how the fuck I’m supposed to be without this woman for six whole weeks.

  “I’ve wanted to do that since the day you told me you were a professor, before I even knew where your office was,” I mutter, still short of breath. She giggles and a smirk tugs at my lips. “Mean it, baby doll.”

  “I know you do.”

  I bring my mouth to hers and kiss her slowly, deeply. I go soft inside of her, but I’m not ready to pull out yet; and when she kisses me back, clinging to my neck affectionately, I know she’s in no hurry, either.

  “I brought you something,” I tell her, forcing myself to end our kiss before I get hard again.

  “Oh, yeah? Something cinnamon?”

  “You bet your sweet, little ass.” I give her backside a light smack before I set her down on her feet. “You hungry?”

  “Mmmhmm. I could go for a treat. Will you help me find my panties, first?”

  I chuckle, slipping the condom off and tucking myself back in my pants. “Sure thing, doll.”

  AFTER WE STRAIGHTEN up, he sits behind my desk, as he so often does, and pulls me into his lap. As is becoming our custom, we each enjoy our slice of cinnamon swirl coffee cake together.

  Custom. I don’t even know why I use the word. We won’t do this again…

  I cherish every single moment, knowing that it is one of our last. I can barely take my eyes off of him, wishing to memorize every single detail of his sinfully handsome face. I never want to forget how cool and beautiful his icy blue eyes are, or the way his horn-rimmed glasses make him look sexier than they should. I know that it is no use. I know that time will force me to forget; but for now, this hope is all I have.

  “What are you up to tonight?” he asks me, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “I was going to go to the gym before I head home. I’ve got some grading I need to get done, too.”

  “I have a shit ton of laundry I need to do if I plan on packing for this trip. But I could come over after, if you want. It might be late.”

  “I’ll wait up,” I assure him with a nod.

  I’m running out of time. I’m running out of opportunities to fall asleep in his arms and wake up with his kisses. I used to think it was awful to be blindsided by the end of a relationship—but to see it coming is so much worse.

  “Alright. I’m gonna jet, then. I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Yeah.” I stand from his lap and he vacates my chair, gathering our trash before he kisses me goodbye.

  As I watch him leave, the reminder that I’m the one who will have to end this hits me square in the chest. I’m the one who will have to walk away. I can’t hold onto his promises with the shadow of the inevitable cast over them. It’ll be better to do this now rather than later—cut our losses and all that shit. It’ll hurt like a fucking bitch, but what other option do we have? None. His destiny has made this decision for us.

  I know he’ll fight me. I know he’ll try and convince me that I’m wrong. He’s got an optimistic heart. It’s one of the things that I adore about him. It’s also the truth I cling to as I selfishly hold onto him for a few more days. I haven’t said a word about my decision. He knows nothing of my doubts and what I intend to do with them—and he won’t. Not until just before he leaves. Not until he has no choice but to leave me behind.

  For the next four days, I am his. I will indulge every desire that I have and I will say yes to whatever he wants. It’s why I wore a dress to
day—why I was prepared to wear a goddamn dress every single day this week, in hopes that he’d drop by with that look of lust in his gaze. If these are the last memories that I will have with him, then I need to make them count. I will make them count; because when he is gone, there will be nothing else for me to hold on to.

  I know by waiting I’m being a complete bitch, but it’s the only way. I won’t be able to resist him if he stays to fight for me. He’s fought for me before, more than once, and he has won every single fucking time. This time, I won’t allow it. I can’t. We have to say goodbye. This is about self-preservation. If I end this, I will carry around the pain and our memories until I’m too numb to feel a thing. If he ends it…if I wait for him to end it, I know it’ll destroy me.

  I can’t operate under the schedule of his heart. It could be months before he realizes that what he wants isn’t me; before he realizes that I mean nothing in comparison to his dream. By the time he figures it out, I’ll surely be in love with him. And it would be a dangerous kind of love. I know this because I know I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about him.

  I don’t want to love him, I remind myself, and so my mind is made up.

  I just can’t—I can’t let him end it. I won’t. It has to be me.

  “SAGE!”

  I shake my head at the sound of her voice, amused that such a large noise can came from such a small body.

  “In here, little lady,” I call back from the laundry room. After I finish swapping the clothes in the washer to the dryer, I load a new pile of dirty clothes into the washer. Rosy enters the room just as I start the machine. “Hey, what’s up? Didn’t know you were dropping by.”

  “Yeah, I know,” she says with a sigh and a shrug. “It hit me today—like really hit me…”

  Her voice trails off and I scowl at her in confusion, reaching for the basket full of clean clothes. “What hit you?” I ask.