Bear Treble (Highland Brothers 4)

by Meredith Clarke

  An hour later, they laid their guitars down. Layla looked at him. “I think we have another one for the album.” She smiled. She wasn’t about to tell him it was a hit.

  “I think so.” He seemed quiet. She didn’t want the kiss to make things awkward, she wanted it to make things matter. It meant something. It meant as much as the song they had just written.

  She reached over and placed her palm on his knee. “We’re two for two. I think we make a pretty good team.”

  It almost seemed as if he was in pain. He pried her fingers off his leg. “Yeah, I think between Crave and Unleashed you’re not going to have to worry about the album. You wanted number ones.” He stood, his tall figure towering over her.

  “There’s more to it than that.”

  He turned for the door. “I need to check the fire.”

  “Dylan, wait. Aren’t we going to talk about that kiss?”

  He shook his head. “I think we just did.” He walked inside, latching the door behind him.

  13

  Dylan

  He walked into the living room, staring at the flames raging through the fireplace. There was more to Layla Love than he had realized. He had written her off as a spoiled diva. But he had been wrong. She could write. She could sing. And damn she could kiss. He had to get her out of here.

  He threw another log on the fire, his ears twitching every time the wood hissed and popped.

  Every second with her was exquisite torture. His bear was hungry for her, no matter what the man in him wanted. He refused to give in to the animal. Man or bear—she wasn’t the kind of woman he could have relationship with. She toured the world. She was recognized everywhere she traveled. He doubted she could hit a mall or grocery store without an entourage to keep the fans off her. Hell, she hadn’t even driven herself to Highland House.

  So she could make pancakes? He knew that wasn’t normal life for her. She didn’t drive. She didn’t run to the coffee shop. Her life was managed in every way possible, down to the boots that she wore. That managed life included her career and this album.

  Layla could tell him she was in charge. She was the boss, but he knew enough artists to know she belonged to the business. She belonged to the fans. To the music. To the contracts. To the label. She was about as free as his bear.

  He glared at the fire. She would never be his. She couldn’t be.

  He heard her boots clack against the hardwood. “Hey, I thought you might come back out. You know we aren’t finished.”

  His hand rested on the mantle. “I was thinking you could call Hal to come pick you up.”

  The hurt look on her face almost made him double over. He didn’t expect the jab to his gut.

  “You really want me to leave?” she asked.

  “I don’t know if we can keep working together. We’ve made a dent in your tracks. I’ll finish it by tomorrow. I’ll get everything sent to you. You don’t have to worry about me coming through. I won’t let you down.”

  “Did it bother you that much?”

  “What?”

  “The kiss. Is that what this is about?”

  There was more truth in the question than she knew. “I don’t get involved with clients. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

  She walked closer, her heels hitting the floor harder with each step as if she was trying to let him know how close they were to each other.

  “It’s a good thing I don’t have a policy like that.” She smiled. Damn she had a beautiful smile. The way her lips turned at the corners drove him crazy, especially now since he knew how they felt between his teeth.

  “I’m serious. It’s not a good idea for us to get involved. I have a reputation to maintain, Layla.”

  She straightened her back, shifting slightly on her left heel. “And I don’t?” He saw the fire in her eyes.

  “I wasn’t trying to imply…”

  She held up her hand. “You don’t have to say anything else. We’ll keep it professional.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re not going to fight me on it? Or fire me?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Why would I? Just thought we could have some fun while we’re here. What difference does it make to me as long as I leave with the songs?”

  He studied her. Her words said one thing, but her body language said something completely different—so did that kiss.

  He had a moment when he could tell her she was wrong. It wasn’t just fun for him. It meant something. Being with her altered his entire life. It bore under his skin, needling its way into his blood. But that would mean admitting to his bear that he wanted her. It would mean giving in to the beast.

  “Where are you going now?” Layla stood with her hands on her hips.

  “We need more wood.” He barged past her.

  “But you just cut all of that.”

  He didn’t care. He had to get away from her.

  “Dylan?”

  He closed the door, rushing toward the woodshed. He could feel the fur beneath his skin aching to emerge. It took everything he had to control his bear. He was starting to worry he didn’t have enough strength to make it through the weekend.

  He looked up at the house when the notes flashed in front of him. He abandoned the ax and the pile of uncut timber and retraced his steps to the porch and his guitar.

  He had another song to get out.

  * * *

  He stared at his bedroom ceiling. Dinner had been uneventful. He made salmon steaks and salad. He wanted to eat and get out of the kitchen. Layla didn’t try to hold him back or pelt him with questions. The silence had been almost unbearable.

  He said goodnight then climbed the stairs. Lingering with her near the fire wasn’t a good idea. Singing another song together wasn’t a good idea. The one he had written on the porch came at him in full force.

  The problem was Layla had unlocked the door that was holding his music in. She had also unlocked his bear.

  Dylan turned on his side, tugging the quilt with him. The words came easily to him now. So did the notes. He hadn’t felt this alive as a songwriter in months.

  He only needed to finish two more songs and she’d be gone.

  The pit hardened in his stomach. He was going to send his mate away. Send her back to the world she belonged in. He didn’t even want to belong in this one.

  He thought about the other Highlands. He didn’t know how Crawford and Striker did it. Or even his brother Chase. Hudson was the only one who came close to understanding why he didn’t want to embrace his bear. They could live double lives. They could use the family home as a place to run free in their shifter form, but he couldn’t do it. He flipped to his back. No. He wasn’t going to let his bear win.

  Two more songs and Layla would be gone.

  14

  Layla

  Her fingers spread over the keyboard. The Highland piano was gorgeous. Layla loved baby grands, but this one was exquisite. She was almost afraid to play it. Sometime when she was sleeping she heard the words. There were wrapped in an image of Dylan.

  His hands were canvassing her body. His mouth was hot and fierce. His tongue lethal. She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to the faded images she still had from the foggy dream. The one thing she did have was the lyrics. She wasn’t able to sleep so she crept down the stairs and closed the music room door behind her.

  She touched her fingers on the white keys before pressing them. The music came easier to her as she sang what she remembered.

  She sat upright when she finished. She wanted it to be real, not just a dream. She was afraid the lyrics would be true. Dylan would only be a memory, not a part of her life. She wanted to know him that way. She wanted to understand what made him the way he was.

  As soon as he would let down the curtain, he’d pull it back up. Like yesterday by the woodshed. The kiss had consumed them both, but he instantly acted like it never happened.

  She ran her fingers over the keys.

  “Did I hear another song?” he asked f
rom behind her.

  She was afraid to turn around. She wondered if she had awakened him. “It sort of hit me.”

  “Play it again.” He walked up to the piano. “Do you have more than the chorus this time?”

  “Not really.”

  She wanted to tell him she couldn’t finish the dream or the song without him. He was the missing piece. It was the same as when she came in from the kiss. Dylan was the one who could write an entire song. He was the one who could hear the full composition in his head. She only knew how to snag the parts that occupied her heart.

  “Go ahead.” He crossed his arms as if he were her music teacher from high school.

  She huffed then started the song. The words filled the study, bouncing off the walls, invading every part of the house. But she knew as she sang it was invading more than rooms—it was erasing the space between Dylan and her.

  When she finished with what she had put together she looked at him for feedback.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “It’s good. Very good, actually. But what if you added something like this for the bridge?”

  Before she knew what was happening Dylan scooted her to the side and sat next to her on the long bench. He was so big he almost knocked her to the floor, but she sat on the edge and watched as his fingers took control of the keys.

  “If you added a run like this in the middle I think it would really bring the chorus forward.”

  She nodded, knowing he could turn anything into platinum magic. He was brilliant. And as much as she had tried to resist after he rejected her yesterday, he was sexy as hell.

  “I kind of like that part though.” She placed her hands in between his on the keys. “What if we added them together?”

  Her arm slid along his as she wedged herself in position to play the part of the song she had created.

  “Like this?” he asked, pounding into the keys.

  She didn’t know why he asked her—he could turn the Itsy Bitsy Spider into an incredible ballad. He had a gift. It was like being under a spell watching him create new music. Here she was, sitting next to him. Her limbs entwined with his as the notes whirled around them and the music came from her throat.

  “I like it.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You might have a career in songwriting,” he joked.

  She didn’t want to move her arms. She liked how they were pressed against the solid muscles of his forearms. Her fingers almost touched his on the keys. His shoulder cut over her arm and every time he took a breath she could feel his wide chest move.

  “That makes number five.” She smiled. That meant there was only one song left.

  If she were honest with him she would tell him she didn’t want to write the last one. Because that last one would mean she’d have to leave Highland House. And she didn’t want to go anywhere.

  15

  Dylan

  He couldn’t move. If he dared to unlock the tangled mess of arms they were in, he would touch more of her. He would feel the soft curves of her flesh through her shirt. He would know more of her body than he already did. And that was dangerous.

  This close to her he could smell her hair, and the expensive perfume she wore. It was enough to make him feel drunk. He closed his eyes, determined not to move a single centimeter.

  “Chopsticks?” Layla giggled and started playing.

  Distracted, he relaxed and moved into his part of the duet. “Wow, pulling out the big guns.” He couldn’t help but laugh. She was fun. She had energy and was constantly surprising him.

  “That’s all you know?” she challenged.

  “Oh, you have no idea.” He reached across her to hit the treble notes.

  And that’s when it happened. She twisted toward him slightly. He didn’t mean to brush against her lips, but he did.

  He felt the plump curves lock against his as Layla’s hands drifted from the keys to his neck.

  He had a sudden urge to kiss every square inch of her. But as her lips parted, she drew his tongue inside. He curled his hands behind her head, crushing his mouth against hers.

  She made little cooing sounds as he sucked along her lips and tongue. It drove him wild, stirring something primal in him. Waking his bear’s deepest desires.

  Her tongue lashed against his and ripped a growl from his chest. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. But as soon as he saw the fear flash across her green eyes, it turned to deep lust. She fucking liked it.

  His giant chest heaved another breath before kissing her again. He tangled his hands in her hair, exploring her mouth with deep kisses. Layla tilted her head backward, giving him complete access to her neck.

  He couldn’t turn away if he wanted to. His tongue ran along her throat stopping to kiss the skin at her shoulder. Her fingers began to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, sliding the sleeves off her arms.

  He pulled her flesh between his teeth and sucked against her skin.

  She let out a long low moan. It only turned him on more. He was so wrapped up in her he didn’t think he could stop. He didn’t want to stop.

  He wanted to taste and touch her. He wanted to claim her. As his hands moved over her arms and back he knew he had let the chain on his bear slacken too much. The bear was taking control and there was no way he could save himself or Layla.

  He knew they would both be going up in flames.

  16

  Layla

  His mouth was hot against her skin. She could barely keep her eyes open. Every sensation felt as if she were floating through fire. But something was happening. Dylan was no longer hesitant and distant. He was taking charge of her body with every kiss.

  “Oh God,” she moaned as he pushed her bra down, popping her nipples over top of the lacy fabric.

  His tongue instantly flicked over the smooth flesh until it perked into a tight bud. She heard his reaction as he palmed her breast, bringing it to his mouth. He didn’t suck gently as his mouth devoured her. She clutched at the back of his head, pressing him deeper against her chest.

  In another instant he moved to the other side, giving it the same kind of divine torture. She flung her head back as he toyed with her nipple with vicious strokes.

  She didn’t know when it had happened. When the notes between them switched to this, but she didn’t want it to stop. She didn’t want the music to stop. Her body was Dylan’s to play.

  She yanked at his T-shirt until it was over his head and on the floor under the piano pedals.

  She raked her nails against the planes of his chest. He was solid and strong like a stone wall. She marveled at how the most beautiful and sensitive music could come from someone so domineering. He closed his eyes as she let her fingertips comb the ridges of his torso. Each muscle was perfect. Each line was sculpted like a block of marble.

  Her hands landed on the button on his jeans, freeing it and then pulling the zipper downward. Dylan groaned as she rubbed her hand against his erection. It strained against the denim.

  She didn’t need his direction. The passion drove her through every step. She sighed as he unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Then she stood, her body wedged between the bench and the piano.

  His hands cupped between her legs and her pressed a kiss against her navel, his hands sinking into her flesh. She watched as he peeled the jeans down her legs, leaving her in only white lace panties. She knew the instant he looked at them he would know they were wet. Wet from the kisses he had given her.

  His hands clutched her waist and drew her forward. He kissed her stomach again then lower, blowing warm breath through the silky fabric. He pressed his mouth to her center and she thought she heard the strange rumbling from his chest again. She couldn’t figure it out, only that it made her want him more.

  “Sit,” he ordered. He wiggled her hips backward until her bottom was sitting on the keyboard. The notes echoed around them as she sank into the keys.

  He eyed her greedily as he placed one heel and then the other on either side of him on t
he piano bench. Layla’s breath was heavy and rapid. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, as he shoved the bits of fabric out of the way and bent his head to kiss between her legs.

  When she felt the first lick she tried to push her knees back together, but his thumbs dug into her thighs keeping her in place.

  “Don’t move,” he growled.

  He kissed along her thigh and as his mouth trailed closer to her center her legs were open wide. She knew how incredible his tongue was, but as he moved it between her wet folds she realized she had had no idea.

  She rocked her hips against his tongue, sending a crash of notes into the air. His mouth lapped and sucked at her, until she felt the tight coiling in her core. The one that told her she was about to explode. Although this was unlike any other foreplay she’d ever had. Dylan kept her pinned to the keyboard, while his tongue thrust in her entrance. Every time her hips bucked the keys clashed under her. She couldn’t stop the symphony screaming inside her as he sucked her throbbing bud before twisting his tongue inside her.

  The music wasn’t the only thing screaming. Layla realized her own voice was singing out over the piano as her orgasm rocked her hard. She clutched and gripped at his tongue while her release fell in waves around her.

  She sighed and leaned back against the music stand. But before she had a moment to rest, she heard Dylan’s jeans hit the floor.

  Her eyes flashed open to see the most solid and thick cock bulging from between his legs. It sent a shiver through her. She’d never wanted to feel anything so badly. She reached forward, taking his shaft in her palm.

  Dylan groaned as she began to run her hands over the silky skin. He was wide and pulsing, and the thought of his hardness sliding in her made her wet all over again.

  “Layla,” he murmured as his hips began to rock into her hands.