Her naked body was more perfect than I could have ever imagined. Smooth slopes and sensual dips. Every freckle, every inch of skin, was a new area to be memorized and explored. I propped onto my elbows. “Kim,” I said awestruck. “You’re amazing.”
“Shh,” she said and straddled me right there on the floor. The Turkish rug scratched the damp skin of my back and legs but it could have been a bed of nails and I wouldn’t have moved from this spot.
She went to remove my boxers—all I wore—and I stopped her. “Kim.”
“I know. It’s too fast.” She sat back on my thighs.
“We should slow down.”
“Probably.” But she reached into my boxers and pulled me out, stroking down the length of me. A tongue dipped out to lick her bottom lip. “But where’s the fun in that?”
I groaned and threw my head back at the same time she said, “Oh my God.”
“Kim, we don’t have any protection. We shouldn’t—”
I hated my stupid, responsible self so much. My head was clouded. My balls were pulled up so tight, I dug my heels into the carpet to keep from coming.
“We won’t. Not tonight. But I need you—and you definitely need me.” She stroked faster.
I gripped her thighs to keep from losing control.
“Just this,” she gasped. “Because I wanted to see this that morning. In your bed.”
I propped back up on to my elbows to a sight I wouldn’t forget as long as I lived. Kim straddling me, touching herself furiously, as she stroked me. Her breasts bounced with the effort, and her skin shone with sweat. I wasn’t going to last a minute.
“Kim, I’m gonna—”
My hands squeezed up her thighs and she gasped.
“Yes. Please. Me too.”
And so we did.
Chapter 31
You are always in my thoughts.
DEVLIN
Later, after some clean up and redressing, Kim lay on top of me on the couch in the music room. I wanted to go back in time and fucking high five myself for deciding to put a couch in here. We could have used it earlier, but the rug burn on her knees was like the scratches on my shoulders. Battle scars. Frameable art.
“Turns out, I’m a bit of a horn dog,” Kim said. “Sorry I launched myself on you.”
“Never be sorry for that.” I looked down to where her chin rested on her balled fist on my chest. Her face was soft with happy sleepiness.
“Part of me feels like I should be a lot more embarrassed about the things I did and said … and admitted. And yet I feel so good I don’t even care.”
I kissed her forehead. “Never feel ashamed about what you feel with me. I loved every second of it.”
She buried her face into my chest and her cheeks were hot with blushing.
“I don’t know how I’m ever going to look at you again when we’re at the SOOK,” she said.
My chest tightened at the idea of the real world. When it was just the two of us, the rest of the world disappeared. I didn’t want to think about all that just yet.
“The mask will help.” I had meant it as a joke, but it came out ominous.
“So, that’s the plan then? Wear the mask for forever?” she asked.
“Pretty much.”
“Can I just say something?” she asked.
“Has anybody ever asked that question and not just said what they wanted to say anyway?” I tweaked her chin as I grinned.
She ignored me and pressed up on to her arm. There wasn’t a ton of room to maneuver so she sat up a bit awkwardly. Regardless, with her dark hair flowing around her and the satisfied glow to her cheeks, she was breathtaking.
“What’s the worst that could happen? So you were a teen pop star? So what?”
“Let’s not talk about this right now.” I tugged at the end of her hair.
“I’m not trying to ruin the moment. I’m just saying I bet nobody would really care. You don’t have to scare people to get respect. If anything, they’d think your background was cool.”
“Nothing about my time as a pop star was cool. I was thrust into a world I hated. I was used up by people who couldn’t have cared less about me and after about a year of undeserved fame, I fell off the map. I was dropped like that.” I snapped. I heard the tension amping up in my voice. “All my years of musical training, all my credentials and supposed gifts for instruments and composing, all forgotten. I was and will only ever be Erik Jones, one-hit wonder. That person is gone. Evaporated into anonymity. Devlin, at least, is known for musical composition and talent.”
“I just think—”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, but please drop it,” I said.
My hand itched to push her off me and leave the room. The anger was bubbling up. Why would she take this amazing moment we’d shared and ruin it?
She looked like she was about to spit venom but then she closed her mouth. A little crease formed between her brows. “Earlier. You said that sometimes you get angry when you can’t find the right words. Is that what you’re doing now? Getting mad at me because it’s easier than talking to me?”
My heart hammered against my chest. Her face was soft but determined. Sleepy but focused. “I don’t like to talk about this.”
“Clearly. You wear a mask to avoid connection with people. I just thought after we—after we shared so much, you’d maybe loosen the reins a little.”
I let out a breath and studied the ceiling. “There isn’t anything to talk about. People find out who I am, and they freak out.”
“Is that what happened with the other symphonies? You got fired when they found out who you were?”
Her gaze pierced mine as I held it. I chewed my lip before saying, “Yeah. Pretty much.” I was so close to telling her the truth. I hadn’t been fired—I’d quit. Because every time they’d found out who I was, they’d wanted to exploit me. They’d wanted me to sing Can’t Look Back as though they had any right to it.
“I’m sorry that happened. You’re so good. You are so, so good. It blows my mind a little. It’s hard not to put you on this pedestal because of your accomplishments.”
“I’m just a man.” My thumb tugged at her bottom lip.
“Oh, I know.” A slow smile spread on her face. Her hand moved up and down my chest. “Trust me.” She let out a breath and it tickled my nipple. “Still. It must be really frustrating to be judged by one thing you did a long time ago,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.” She smiled so big at me I couldn’t help but return it.
My God, if the symphony could see me now. If they knew what a sap I was for this woman, how she destroyed all my defenses with a single smile, I’d have no career left.
“Let’s not talk about our pasts anymore.” I pulled her back to my chest to kiss her lightly.
“You’re right. Let’s just be here now.”
I wrapped the blanket around us. We would have to face the real world tomorrow, but for now, we were here.
Chapter 32
Get out of your head.
KIM
Sunday evening when I returned home, I was surprised to find the house quiet. Usually there were a few stragglers leftover from my parents’ Saturday night festivities that often merged into Sunday brunch. I was glad to be alone for once. I floated on a cloud of ecstasy from the weekend and didn’t want to have to explain my good mood to anyone. Or worse yet, explain my relationship with Devlin. Which would be really difficult, because we’d never really gotten to that point. I wasn’t about to bring it up.
I just wanted to lay in bed with my few hours of free time and replay the highlight reel from the past few days. I’d had a breakthrough, I’d had some sexual experiences that rivaled walking on the moon, and I had found a sense of yearning to play my instrument again that I hadn’t felt in over a decade. Things were coming up Kim.
I had just passed the dining room when my mom called out, “Sweetie, can you come in here?”
/> Mom and Dad sat on a leather sofa with a small stack of papers, magazines, and books between them. My mother had her legs tucked under her—looking more elegant at close to seventy-five than I had in all my years on this planet. She had an arm around Dad. He took off his “readers” and placed them on the stack.
“Hey,” I said.
My mother wore a large loose-necked cowl sweater dress and black leather leggings. My father was wearing brown loafers with fancy little tassels. I noticed all this because I couldn’t quite bring myself to make eye contact with them. Could parents sense when their child had had mind-blowing orgasms? Lord, I hoped not. Why did it feel like suddenly a sign flashed above my head saying, “Your daughter got freaky this weekend!”
“Sit down, sweetie,” Dad said. “Let’s have a chat. Catch up. What’s going on with you?”
I sat in the armchair across from them, sliding in the leather as I tried to find a position to get comfortable. I ended up tucking my knees under my chin which made me feel even more like a child under interrogation. Nothing good ever followed a forced attempt to have a casual conversation. I was reminded of the ease I witnessed between Devlin and his family, of how they laughed and shared and spoke with the familiarity of long-time friends.
“Sure.” I settled on a vague, less was more response. “I’m good. How are y’all?”
My mother hummed a sigh and shot a look at my father.
“Best to just put it out there, Meredith. You know these things are worse if we build them up.”
An icy dread had me squeezing my legs tighter to my body.
She patted his head before picking up the glasses he had just laid down. They perched on her nose as she picked up one of the papers and began to read. “‘Devil of the Symphony makes more outlandish requests.’ Are chair auditions really that bizarre? It goes on. Yellow journalism, for sure, but here: ‘His muse and prized pupil, Christine Day, has moved quickly up the ranks as the new conductor seems to have taken a liking to her. Rumors of walkouts abound over the perceived favoritism.’” My mother put the paper back down, carefully folded up the glasses, and set them on top.
People were going to walk out over this? Devlin was supposed to be working toward bringing us together as a symphony. I was distracting him. I was causing this. I tried to clamp down on the wayward thoughts, but they ran wild with my heart rate.
“This is rubbish, obviously. You’re extremely talented and that’s why the Maestro chose you.”
“That being said …” my father started.
“That being said, we’ve heard unsettling rumors,” Mom finished.
“What sort of rumors?” I asked, knowing I was not pulling off casually unaffected.
“We’ve heard he’s been following you places?” Dad asked. “Then there are those ridiculous rumors of kidnapping.”
“Of course we know the truth of that first night at his place. He talked to us first.” My mother laid her arm on his shoulder. He squeezed her hand back.
“People are sensationalizing things for the sake of drama.”
“I’m sure those two that run the symphony are feeding off it.”
“They’re probably the ones who started the rumors.”
“No doubt.”
My parents volleyed back and forth, forgetting that I was in the room. As they spoke, my worst fears began to stack in my mind. I had lost control. I had let myself give in to deep desires and take what was not mine. Would all of Devlin’s work be destroyed because of this reputation? Would the SOOK really revolt?
“Honey?” My mom cut through my thoughts. “I’m sure it’s small town minds and all that. Richard has said that Carla is going to quit. Change like this is bound to happen when a new person takes over. We just want to make sure you’re being careful. If you’re feeling any unscrupulous pressure from Devlin …”
“He wouldn’t do that. He’s not like that,” I quickly said.
“We didn’t think so either. But you let us know, ok? If anything starts to feel like too much or …”
“Or any of those old worries and anxieties start to creep up again?” Dad finished.
Of course. They were worried I was backsliding. I’d been going out more, staying away from home. They’d never known the truth about camp. I’d been so scared to tell them, and even now, I was too gripped by growing anxieties to get the words out. In their minds, they probably saw old habits returning.
“Okay, well, we were concerned. Lots of buzz about the moody conductor and his current cellist muse.” Mom said.
“Muse?” I asked. Roddy had said that too. Was that what I was? It didn’t feel like that when I was with him. It didn’t feel temporary or fleeting. But what if that was how all muses felt?
“You know how artists are. He must have taken one look at you and felt inspired,” Dad said.
“Right,” I said focusing on the paisley pattern in the thick rug I squished my toes into.
“She attracts the wild ones, doesn’t she?”
“Oh, don’t you dare put the blame on her,” my mother said.
“You know I didn’t mean that, Meredith.”
“Well it’s not her fault people find her attractive, Lindsay. That added nothing to the value of this conversation.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way …”
Their voices faded away. I couldn’t take any more. I couldn’t hear any more. This. This was why I couldn’t be trusted. One moment’s bad choice, and everything got derailed. People got hurt.
I got up and left the room without another word. They had slid into a full-on debate and wouldn’t notice. I had to clear my head. I had to think. I climbed the stairs and locked myself in my room.
After I got back from camp, after Ariana’s suicide, I took on the blame for everything. I came home in search of freedom and distraction in the form of charming Jethro Winston. Juilliard turned into rehab instead. Returning to Green Valley, I was convinced that every person I passed in the street was gossiping about me. Every service-goer at church, every donut-eater at Daisy’s, all of them pointing at the girl who ruined lives, including her own. The girl who had been given everything and threw it away.
Changing my name to Christine Day and living primarily in Knoxville had stopped most of the gossip. I grayed out until I faded into the background. I toned down and tuned out. That was fine. I was fine. I was existing. Until now.
All that had changed with Devlin. While he wasn’t the charmer Jethro had been, he was definitely a distraction. And people were getting hurt.
I walked into rehearsal the week before the big Fourth of July show. My head hurt from all the thinking I’d been doing. No answers had come to me, but then I’d felt the silence and I knew. Like all the other times. All the whispering stopped when I walked in. All the eyes shot to me. Then to Devlin. Then they sucked their teeth or snuck glances to their neighbor with eyebrows raised, implying “the nerve.”
Somehow, they knew there was something going on between us. Or at the very least, they guessed. And the worst part was their guesses were probably close to the truth. He was another man I shouldn’t have.
Devlin was at the front of the room. He tapped the podium and the room silenced. “Chairs are posted.”
Energy burst around the room in a quiet wave. People were desperate to jump out of their seats to go look at the postings, but kept themselves locked down as he continued in his authoritative tone.
“You will go up to front one section at a time to avoid chaos. These will be your positions for the performance. The first chair cellist will have the opportunity to play a solo from my upcoming concerto, Smokey Mountain Suite, debuting in the fall.”
The room grew louder and people squirmed in their seats, arching their necks to try and read the papers posted at the front of the room. Carla lifted her chin and smirked at Barry. Maybe she knew something I didn’t. Maybe she had earned first chair after all.
Delvin held up his arms again. I couldn’t look directly at him.
All the lascivious things I had said. All the things I’d admitted. The way he’d touched me. If I looked right at him, I worried explicit details might blurt out of me. I might beg him to tell me what I meant to him. I dug my nails into my palms. I sat stock still and kept my face neutral. I could feel Erin trying to get my attention, but my muddled emotions would be written all over my face.
“I did not choose these chairs alone. I worked with a committee, the same committee as we’ve discussed before. We came to an agreement together. I can do nothing without the committee’s approval. Once you see where you now sit, calmly go back to your chairs, and move as necessary. This is our last rehearsal before the performance. We will make it a good one.”
He cleared his throat. “You have all exceeded my expectations these last few months. I’m honored to play with all of you tonight. Your commitment to the SOOK has been noticed.” Faces of equal parts surprise and pride swept across the room. “Percussion, you’re up first. You have ten minutes until the next group will be called up.”
And so it went, for the next hour. One group at a time. Every time they went up, I swore after they checked their own name, they glanced to the cellos to see where Christine Day had been placed. I was the fourth chair who went from obscurity to being Devlin’s pet. I couldn’t keep the fear from my eyes when Erin passed. My lip bled where I’d been gnawing on it. She gave me a very quick and very subtle thumbs up as she passed. God, I wished I could text her, but no phones were allowed in rehearsal, ever. Of course. I kept trying to get her attention, but she was distracted as she moved her stuff up to first chair. I smiled so big. I had been so caught up in my own drama it hadn’t even occurred to me that she may be changing seats.
The Treble With Men Page 21