Reverb (Songs and Sonatas Book 7) Page 8

  “You were amazing up there.” Her soft, sexy voice draws my attention to her lips. Lips that are already pink and puffy from our kiss. Lips that’ll get a lot more bee-stung as the night progresses.

  “Thank you.”

  Her smile changes, turning into a sardonic smirk rather than a simple expression of joy and happiness.

  I drag my eyes back to hers. “What’s that face?”

  Her head tips back as she lets out a full-throated laugh. “My face? What about your face?” She lifts one hand and moves her finger in a circle around my face. “Wolfish grin. Bedroom eyes. You look like you think your hand’s on a sure thing.”

  Flexing my fingers on her ass, I grin wider. “Pretty sure I do. You don’t think so?”

  She strokes her chin, her eyes narrowed. They pop wide open in surprise, her hand going to my shoulder when I boost her up into my arms, pinning her against the door which we haven’t managed to move away from.

  Her surprise melts into lust as I rock against her center, the movement equal parts relief and torture. Her legs wrap around me, and her short fingernails once again dig into my shoulders. There’s a hollow thump as her head falls back against the cheap door.

  “Oh my god,” she moans. “Here? You want to do this here? Like this?”

  I grunt my agreement with that statement. “Why? You don’t?”

  Her head lolls to one side, and she makes a weird strangled sound. “I do,” she finally manages to pant. “Fuck yes, I do I do I do. But …” She flops a hand behind me, and I glance back at the couch.

  “Don’t wanna know what’s been done on that couch. The wall is safer.”

  “Unghh,” is her only response.

  With a low chuckle, I ease up the pressure on her body and let it slide down till her feet touch the floor, which provokes another wordless sound in the back of her throat. Then my hands are on the button of her dark wash skinny jeans, undoing it and giving a yank that pulls them down to her thighs. The sound of grinding metal means the zipper came undone as well.

  She gasps, shoving at my hands. “Let me. You deal with you. Condom. Now.”

  Blinking, I step back, almost dazed watching her toe off her shoes and start shoving her pants down her legs. She glances up at me, her eyes flashing. “Well? What are you waiting for? Catch up, dude!”

  That’s all the encouragement I need. I step back to the dressing table, where I left my wallet and phone before going onstage, and pull out one of the condoms I’d stashed there. I’m not going to say I’d planned on fucking Lauren in the dressing room, per se, but I never ruled it out as a possibility either. And after not having condoms the last time I saw her, no way was I taking that risk again.

  Holding the shiny foil packet between my teeth, I drop my hands to my belt. Lauren, her pants in a wadded heap on the floor next to her, licks her lips and stares at my waist. Unable to help myself, I slow down, sliding the leather through the buckle, watching as her chest rises and falls quickly. Once my belt hangs free, she lifts her eyes to mine, impatience flashing in their depths. “C’mon, dude. I told you to catch up.”

  I finish undoing my pants and free my dick, reaching up for the packet and tearing it with my teeth before rolling on the latex. Shuffling forward the few steps separating us, I reach for her. This time there’s no surprise, no resistance. Lauren wraps her arms around my shoulders, her legs around my hips and hangs on as I pin her against the door. It takes a second for me to line myself up, between keeping her suspended and needing to reach between us. It doesn’t help that she’s wiggling against me, trying to help, but actually making it more difficult.

  “Hold. Still.” I grit out, and she freezes, her arms and legs clamping around me. Letting go of her ass with one hand, I fumble around, rubbing the head of my dick all over her slick heat, which makes us both hiss in pleasure.

  When I find her entrance, I drive into her in one thrust. Her head thumps against the door again, and she makes that “ungh” sound again.

  I tilt her hips toward me, driving into her hard enough to push her up the door. Her eyes flutter open, and she looks down at me. “God, Brendan.” I thrust again. “Ungh. You feel.” Thrust. “Amazing.” Thrust. “Don’t.” Thrust. “Stop.”

  Like I would. Like I could.

  She makes me come undone in every way. The L word pounds into my skull in time with my hips, but I don’t say it. This thing between us—the heat and the chemistry are scorching, but the emotions are still tentative. Instead, I do what I know she wants. What I want. What we’re both craving.

  Picking up my pace, a string of filthy words falls from my lips. I don’t even know what I’m saying, but whatever it is, it’s doing the trick. She loves my dirty talk. Every time it makes her clench harder. Sooner. And she’s doing it now, her slick pussy squeezing my cock with every thrust.

  “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” she chants, her voice rising as her muscles tense all around me. Her words are in time with my thrusts, so that it’s almost like she’s giving me orders. Or like the person directing the oarsmen. I’d find it funny if I weren’t so close to coming, the electricity tingling down my spine.

  Clenching my ass, I try to hold off just a little longer, my legs and arms trembling both from the effort of fucking her against the door and from the effort of holding back.

  “Come on, Lauren. I need you to come for me. I need to feel you coming on my cock. Now. Come now. Come with me now.”

  The last word erupts with a roar as I thrust up as hard as I can. She shudders and moans as she comes, the rhythmic grip of her pussy melding with my cock emptying itself into her.

  She slumps in my arms, no longer helping support herself. I pull out, sliding her down the wall, holding onto her until she’s steady on her feet.

  The sound of someone clapping reaches us through the door.

  Lauren blushes to the roots of her hair, her hands coming up to cover her face and muffle the quiet exclamation of, “Oh my god!”

  Turning to grab a handful of tissues off the table, I huff out a laugh. “I’m sure that’s not the first performance they’ve heard of that variety. Remember, they tour with Jonathan and Gabby.”

  She lowers her hands and gives me a sardonic look as I deal with the condom and fix my clothes. “Don’t remind me,” she says as she bends to grab her pants. “I had to listen to their virtual sex sessions on video chat the semester they were apart. I’d mostly blocked that memory out. Thanks for bringing it back.”

  Once she’s dressed again, I reach for her hand and tug her closer so I can wrap my arms around her and kiss her again. Between the adrenaline high and a fresh orgasm with my favorite person, I’m feeling pretty good right now. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  She snuggles into my chest, wrapping her arms around my back, her fingers splayed to cover as much ground as they can. “Me too.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lauren

  Gabby points at me with her fork. “Alright, the food is here. The boys are all gone and should be occupied with the trainer for a while. You need to fill me in on a bunch of details, chica.”

  I gesture at the giant spread of high calorie breakfast foods laid out for us on the dining table in her suite. Waffles and omelettes and chocolate croissants. Even fancy mochas piled high with whipped cream and sprinkles. “What about your trainer? I know this breakfast isn’t on your approved foods list.”

  She makes a face and waves a hand. “Don’t you worry about that. I’m allowed a cheat day. I’m taking mine early.”

  “If you say so.” I scoop up a bite of waffles drenched in mixed berries and whipped cream. “Pretty sure you said the same thing at my house last weekend.”

  “Ha. You got a veggie tray. And we didn’t pig out on pizza like I expected. Didn’t count.” Gabby forks her own bite of loaded waffles, moaning a little as the breakfast perfection hits her tongue. I’m not as vocal about my pleasure as Gabby is, but I agree wholeheartedly.

  Lowering her brows, she glares a
t me. “Don’t think that distraction technique will work,” she says with her mouth full. Swallowing, she goes on. “I’m not going to be put off. You’ve been keeping secrets. For a loooong time, as far as I can tell. What is going on with you and Brendan? How did it start? And why have you said nothing to me about it for all this time?”

  Sighing, I sip my coffee, enjoying the sweet chocolate mixed with espresso. It’s smooth and delicious and much better than what I usually drink. I could get used to this kind of luxury, though I’m not sure about the grind of touring as much as she and Jonathan do. “I told you already. We drove to New York City after your wedding. That was the extent of our relationship.”

  Her look says she’s not buying it. “Clearly that’s not the case.”

  I sigh again. “Not anymore, no. But it was. At least at first.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me anything. At all. At the time, even.”

  I duck my head, feeling like an asshole. The truth is, there isn’t a good reason I didn’t tell her. I can say it’s because she was on her honeymoon, or that there wasn’t much to tell, or all the reasons I’ve already given her. But none of that’s really true. I could’ve told her at any point since she got back from her honeymoon and Brendan and his brothers showing up on my doorstep last week. It’s not like I haven’t had countless opportunities.

  Pushing my food around on my plate, my appetite having abandoned me, I mumble out the truth. “I didn’t want to talk about it. Because then I’d have to admit that I had feelings for him, and I wasn’t supposed to. That was the deal.” And I’d already fallen for him by the end of that trip. Hard. If I admitted it out loud, it would’ve made it more real, and thus harder to put behind me. Which was what I was trying to do.

  Silence is the only response. Not even the sound of utensils scraping on plates. I drag my eyes off my own plate to look at Gabby’s face. She’s paused with her fork halfway to her mouth, a drip of berry sauce suspended from the edge of her waffle piece. As I watch, it gathers and falls.

  She sucks in a deep breath, her brows knotted together, her look a mixture of confusion and concern. And I wait for the inevitable questions. The whys. I know I’d be asking a billion. Because while what I’ve said is true, that’s not all there is to it, and Gabby knows me well enough to know that. “Why weren’t you supposed to have feelings?” she asks at last.

  I have to force myself not to flinch, dropping my eyes to my plate. “We figured we only had that trip, you know? It was just a fling. Physical attraction and chemistry. It couldn’t lead anywhere. He has his life, I have mine, the odds of us seeing each other again were pretty slim. Or so we thought.”

  The wrinkle on her forehead gets deeper. “So what?” She stabs her now-empty fork in my direction. “That obviously didn’t work out. And from what you’re saying, you knew it before the trip was even over. Why not admit it? Why not say something to him?”

  I throw my free hand up in the air. “So I can be rejected and shot down? No, thank you. Besides, I’d sworn off men. I wasn’t supposed to be in a relationship. I was focusing. I had my recital. The contest. I didn’t need any distractions.”

  She softens. “Your recital was amazing. You played the shit out of Sibelius.”

  I swallow, feeling like my food must be lodged in my throat, even though I haven’t taken another bite. “Yeah, well, the concerto contest judges didn’t seem to think so.”

  Gabby makes a soft sound of commiseration. “They must be morons.”

  Forcing a smile, I glance at her. “Thanks. I doubt it, though. Damian killed on his concerto. I just …” Another sigh. “I really wanted to win something. Everyone else is getting what they want, and I’m …” I trail off, swallowing the end of that sentiment. Gabby doesn’t need to hear me moaning about my jealousies and wishing someone would swoop in and grant me everything I ever dreamed of. Even if that’s not exactly how her story’s gone, it’s close enough.

  “You’re what?”

  I shake my head, but she won’t let it go at that. It’s a futile effort, and I know it, but I still put up the token protest.

  She fixes me with that look of hers that I imagine she inherited from her mother. It’s no nonsense, the kind of look a parent gives a wayward child when they know they aren’t being truthful.

  Setting down my fork, I stare down at my fingers twisting in my lap. “I’m tired of being left behind. You ran off with your rockstar boyfriend, now husband. Charlie ran off to be famous again. Damian not only gets the girl, but also wins all the competitions and basically shows me up at every turn.”

  Gabby’s mouth is open to interject, but I hold up a hand to forestall her. “Every time I hang out with a guy, people start whispering. I’m the music department tramp, because I’ve gone on a date with just about every guy there, with the oft-noted exception of the freshmen. If any of them see me so much as talking to a guy around campus, I’m bombarded with questions about my supposed latest hookup. Last summer I thought I was getting involved with a nice guy, and it turned out he and his friends had some bet about who could bang one of the female counselors the fastest. He won, by the way. Because I’m a slutty slutty slut slut, and I can’t even win a fucking concerto competition to make it all worthwhile.” Swallowing down the hard lump that’s formed in my throat, I shake my head. “I’m so sick of it. I stupidly thought all that dumb stuff was just high school bullshit. That it would get better as we all got older and got our own lives. If anything, it’s only gotten worse.”

  Now Gabby’s mouth is open in shock. I guess she didn’t expect that little tirade when she started digging.

  But I’m not finished. “And you know what the stupidest thing is? I’ve only had sex with five guys in my whole life. Some super slut, right?” I shake my head again. “But I’ve proven everyone right anyway, you know? Hooking up with my best friend’s new brother-in-law on some harebrained road trip so I can go ice skating at Rockefeller Center. Because I happened to mention it was something I’d like to do, and he says, ‘Let’s go. We’ll leave in the morning.’ And because I apparently lack impulse control, I say, ‘Sounds great. What time?’” I cover my face with my hands, propping my elbows on the table on either side of my plate. “That’s my real problem, isn’t it? Impulse control. I never should’ve given in to Brendan. About any of it. Then I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

  Gabby waits several breaths before asking, “And what mess is that, exactly?”

  I crack my fingers so I can peer at her through the gap. “The mess where I’m in some kind of long-distance relationship, which isn’t something I ever wanted.” Where for the first time in my life, I feel appreciated and seen and understood by someone who’s not my parents. Or a girl. Gabby gets me that way, but no guy ever has before. And the first guy who does lives a thousand miles away. I want us to work out, but I just don’t know how.

  I drop my hands from my face and point a finger at her. “I was supposed to have sworn off men, remember? I was attempting to rehab my reputation. Focus on my music, my goals. And now I’m researching grad schools in California so I can be closer to a guy. What the hell is wrong with me?” It’s a rhetorical question, though. I know exactly what’s wrong with me. I know I fall too hard, too fast. At least this time it’s not one-sided. But still. Some part of me feels like I should resist. I have plans. Goals. And a guy was not part of that. But that was before Brendan …

  She takes a sip of her coffee, licking the whipped cream off her upper lip and closing her eyes in pleasure before fixing me with a hard stare again. “Number one, that’s not a mess. Not unless you make it one. Brendan likes you. Like really likes you. The way he looked at you when they showed up at your house that night …” She shakes her head. “He’s got it bad for you, chica. And you looked at him the same way.”

  “What way is that?” I mumble, poking at my waffles with my fork.

  Her lips curve in a knowing smile. “You know what I’m talking about. But I don’t
think you’re ready to hear the L word yet, so I’m not going to say it.”

  My breath freezes in my throat, and I stop mid-chew, my face heating. I give my head the barest quarter turn, trying to shake it, trying to deny what she’s not quite saying. But her smile over the top of her coffee cup makes it so I can’t. Because I’m not ready to admit that I’m in love with Brendan yet. Or that he might be in love with me.

  With a shrug, she continues her assessment of my problems. “And why is it such a bad thing if you end up in grad school in California? If that’s what you both want?” She pauses to let that sink in, but not long enough for me to formulate an answer. “As far as the rest of what you said …” She sets her cup down, her mouth twisting in distaste, and she flicks her fingers. “I’m not even going to repeat any of those things, because I can’t stomach saying them about you. You and I both know none of that’s true. But wouldn’t having a serious boyfriend dispel those rumors just as thoroughly as avoiding men altogether?”

  My stomach swoops and twists as I consider that possibility. She maybe has a point. About all of it.

  With a deep breath, I force myself to meet her eyes. “I’m scared,” I whisper.

  She nods as though to say, There’s the truth at last, and her smile turns sympathetic. “I know. It’s okay to be scared, though.” One shoulder lifts. “It’s not really worth it if it’s not a little scary, is it?”

  Saying goodbye to Brendan isn’t any easier this time around. Especially since we’ve once again only had two nights together.

  I ride with him in the car that takes him to the airport, my hand wrapped in his. I poke him in the side as we take the exit to his terminal. “Slumming it flying commercial, huh?”

  He laughs, his face full of affection. “Jonathan doesn’t have time to fly me back home before the next stop on their tour. I fly commercial more often than not. They were already in California, so that’s why I flew with them on the way out.”