All she had to do was guide him forward and he would be inside her. There would be more between them than the music. Their bodies could find their own rhythm.
“I want you, Dylan,” she whispered. She moved her hand over his steel shaft until he was nestled in the warmth of her wetness.
He groaned, “You feel good. Too good.”
His eyes opened and she saw the fire in them. She swallowed hard. This man wanted to fucking devour her. She could see it. She could feel it. And she wanted him to take her.
His hands raked under her backside, banging the keys as he hoisted her ass upward. The motion made the tip of his cock pry against her entrance.
She hissed at the intensity, but wanted all of it. Every damn inch of him inside her.
“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me, Layla.” His fingers dug into her bottom. She couldn’t tell if he was restraining himself or urging her to give him the answer he wanted.
“Fuck me, Dylan. On the piano.”
If she thought he was going to think through it or hesitate she was wrong, he roared over the baby grand as he sank his cock inside her.
Her hands gripped his shoulders as he kicked the bench out of the way and pulled her against his waist. It was so deep and intense she thought she would jump out of her body, but as he began to pump against her she felt like she was soaring over the keys.
He thrust into her and the keys mashed under her. She threw her head back, jutting her breasts forward. His mouth landed on her nipple and began to suck, searing the heat into her skin. She fisted her fingers through his hair, as the music rose up around their heated, sweaty bodies.
17
Dylan
It wasn’t enough. She was so tight and hot. Wet like smooth honey. He gripped her ass tighter under the key, trying to fill her with everything he had.
He picked her up from the keyboard, feeling the soft weight of her body in his hands. She was everything he wanted. Beautiful and musical.
Her feet touched the floor as he withdrew his shaft from her. He pulled at the white lace, stripping it from her thighs. She smiled as she kicked the tangled panties out of the way.
“Turn around,” he urged.
Her eyes brimmed with fear. “What are you going to do?”
He snaked a hand around her neck, drawing her lips to his mouth. “Take you so deep you’ll be mine.”
He felt her quake against his body. She stepped back, turning on her heels then pressed her palms against the top of the piano on either side of the music stand. Her nipples draped over the keys.
Once it had started he hadn’t been able to stop. He was wrapped up in her. Her gorgeous sassy mouth. The green fire in her eyes. The swells of her hips. And once he had been inside her, he knew he wasn’t going to stop until he had claimed her.
He ran a hand between her legs, groaning as he felt the warm wetness between her folds. He couldn’t help but massage the swollen nub. Her knees buckled as he flicked against it.
“Oh, Dylan. I want you.” She bucked her hips as he ran a finger between her and around her entrance.
“I want you too.” He pressed the tip of his cock against her hot opening.
He didn’t care that his bear had won. He had given up caring the moment he tasted her lips again. Her breasts were meant for him. The honey between her legs was meant for him. She was his music.
“Fuck, Layla.” He thrust inside her feeling her stretch over him, coating his cock with her warmth.
The keys crashed as he moved in and out of her. She rocked into him, dragging her nipples over the keyboard. Every note he heard he knew she was getting closer to coming. She tightened against him. Her breath quickened.
“Dylan, please. Please” she pleaded. Her palms flattened against the black wood.
“You are mine.” He plunged into her, sending jolts of lightning with his pulsing shaft.
She began to quiver and moan as her orgasm ripped through her. He held her hips while he unleashed his seed deep inside her. He thrust again, needing every ounce of her being to belong to him. He gave her everything he had. She was as much his as he was hers.
He knew as he pulsed inside her warm walls that he had already been hers from the minute she stepped foot on the porch. She sang what was in his soul. How could there possibly be any other woman for him?
He kissed her spine, knowing his hot seed was claiming her. Making them mates forever.
“Wow,” she breathed. Her skin was dewey under his lips.
His bear felt sated and happy. He had finally done what he was meant to do. He had claimed his mate. Made her his. Filled her with his seed.
But as Dylan stood, and he pulled himself from Layla, the man in him began to emerge through the fog of lust and sex.
Oh God. He almost fell to the ground. What had he done? What the hell had he just done?
18
Layla
She turned around carefully, feeling the coolness of the keys brush over her breasts. She’d never experienced anything like that kind of lovemaking in her life. Dylan had taken her like she had always wanted.
She’d never admit it, but sex had never been that great. Sure men would say they wanted to sleep with her because she was a celebrity, but they were too scared to touch her. It always happened with the lights off and in a missionary position. She loved everything Dylan had done. It was as perfect as one of his songs. They had made a new kind of music together.
She smiled, but when she saw his face all the giddiness coursing through her quickly faded.
He sat on the bench, running his hands through his hair. “No, no, no,” he muttered.
“Dylan?”
She leaned toward him, but he threw her hand off his arm. “Leave me alone.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He stood, pacing the edges of the room. “You don’t know what this means.”
“That we had amazing sex?”
His eyes were set in dark lines. “I tried to get you to leave. I told you to call Hal. I told you you couldn’t stay.” He ranted as if she wasn’t in the room.
“Are you? Do you regret it?” She felt the coldness wash over her. Her body had been warm from him. His beautiful kisses. His powerful cock. His strong hands exploring her.
This was the man who had been on his knees in front of her with his mouth between her legs, demanding she do what he asked. And now she didn’t recognize him.
She yanked her clothes from the floor as she backed up toward the door.
“Don’t answer. Don’t say anything. I’ll call Hal.” She raced from the room before Dylan could say another word.
She ran up the stairs, tripping at the top step. She couldn’t get to her room fast enough. She slammed the door behind her and locked the knob. She held the clothes to her chest as the tears streamed down her face.
How could he? How could he regret it? She let them fall as the sobs wracked her shoulders. She’d give herself ten minutes to fall apart. Ten minutes to let her heart break. Ten minutes to let the pain shred her. But after that she would shower, get dressed, and get the hell of out of Highland House.
19
Dylan
He was so disgusted with himself he couldn’t even look in the mirror. He turned the shower to hot and stood under the stream. There was no forgiveness for what he had done. He had let his bear consume him with lust and primal need. He had let go of the chains. He knew when he did it. He knew when she looked at him that he didn’t want to hold on any longer. He dropped them like the responsibility of controlling his animal was too much to bear. It was the one thing he had separating him from being a beast and he had lost it.
He didn’t want his bear holding him back. He wanted to fuck her, like he wanted to breathe. And he did. He hung his head, the water sliding down his back.
Now she was his in every way. He clamped his eyes together. She was his.
God he loved it. He loved every second of it. He groaned, the taste of her still lingering on his
tongue.
But when he sent her away, the pain in her eyes was unbearable. She thought he was angry with her, but that wasn’t it. He was angry at himself.
He had taken her without telling her what she was signing on for. What if she was pregnant? He slapped the shower wall. How could he fuck up like this?
He stayed under the stream until the water turned cold. He cut the faucet and toweled off. He wanted Layla Love to walk out of here with six solid songs for her album. That was it. Now because he couldn’t control his bear, they were life mates, and she might be carrying his cubs.
He leaned against the counter, daring to look at his reflection. What kind of man was he? He knew the answer—he was only half a man—the other half dominated by his bear.
He closed his eyes remembering how she felt in his hands. How she sounded when he made her come. The moment their bodies collided, he’d never felt such intense power surging through him. It wasn’t all bear. There was emotion and connection with Layla he’d never had with another woman. She was everything he could want in a mate. She was soft and gorgeous. He loved her voice and her body. He loved how she wanted him. He loved how she gave over her body and took his in return. It was exactly how it should have been, until he fucked it up.
His eyes opened. His chest seized in a violent shudder. He knew looking in the mirror his bear was locked up. This wasn’t his bear talking. It was him.
He tried to imagine Layla sliding on her leather boots and walking out of the house with her bags. He pictured the car picking her up and driving her back to Seattle. It was like a knife puncturing the space between his ribs. She was his mate. His to protect and love.
What the hell had he just done? Did he really just ruin the precious moment after he claimed her? Bear or not, he knew in his soul that he was in love with Layla and he had to find a way to make things right.
* * *
He threw on a pair of clean jeans and threaded a T-shirt over his head. How could he be an idiot man and bear? He didn’t know how long he had been in the music study or his room. But he headed in the direction of the guestroom Layla had chosen. It was time to tell her the truth.
He wanted to tell her everything. She had to know about his bear. She needed to know that he would protect her the rest of her life. It would be complicated, but they would figure it out together.
He knocked on the door. “Layla, you there?”
His ear twitched, but it was quiet on the other side of the door. “Layla?” He cracked the door, but it was empty. Her suitcases were gone.
The panic ripped through him. How long had he left her alone? She said she was going to call Hal, but he hadn’t stopped long enough to check the time. It could have been hours ago since they were on the piano. He raced down the stairs, calling her name. But the house was silent.
He searched every room, but they were all dark.
“Layla!” he called as he darted on the front porch.
He looked down at one of the wooden rockers. The stack of music they had worked on was there. He picked up the sheet music. There were five songs. On top was a sticky note.
Send number six by tomorrow.
-L
That was all it said. He felt the rumble in his chest as he let out a roar into the night. It echoed off the trees and bounced off the side of the house.
She was gone.
20
Layla
“You can put them over there, Hal.” She pointed to an empty space next to her couch.
The bodyguard dropped the suitcases and waited for his next set of instructions.
“Thank you,” she huffed. She didn’t have the energy to be overly nice. Rejection after mind-blowing explosive sex sucked.
“I’ve done a perimeter check, Miss Love,” he reported. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” She waved him on as she slumped onto her white leather couch and picked up the remote.
Her penthouse was quiet. She missed the smoky smell of the fireplace. She clicked a button on her remote to turn on her electric flames, but she frowned at them. They felt as artificial as they looked.
She missed the woods. She missed the music. She missed Dylan.
She turned off the TV. There wasn’t anything that would keep her attention anyway. She wondered how long it had taken him to realize she was gone. For all she knew he was still pacing his bedroom.
The shower had been running when Hal pulled up in the car. She didn’t want to say goodbye. She didn’t want to see the asshole. She had had breakups play out in the tabloids. That was devastating. People made up all kinds of horrible stories and spouted their inaccurate theories. But nothing had humiliated her like this.
She had given Dylan everything she had on that piano. Her body, her heart, and her music. It was all his, and as much as she hated him, she knew she was still his. She could feel it.
She walked toward her bar and reached for a wine glass, setting it on the smooth marble, then opened the wine fridge. She didn’t care that it was the middle of the afternoon. Alcohol might be the only thing that could numb the painful memories. But as she uncorked the bottle, she smelled the acidic aroma and put the bottle down.
“Eww,” she complained. The wine must be sour. She poured the bottle down the drain and selected another bottle. As the cork popped off that one, her nose wrinkled. It all smelled terrible.
For a slight second the horror of what that could mean rushed through her. But it wasn’t possible. No they didn’t use protection. And she had let him come deep inside her. Her belly clenched thinking how deep he had been, but it wasn’t even a plausible concept that she could be pregnant. Besides, she was on birth control.
It was an impulsive decision to sleep with Dylan, and as much as it hurt she hadn’t decided if she regretted it.
She walked to her bedroom, glaring at the king-size bed. The bed would look small with Dylan sprawled across it.
“Stop it,” she chided herself.
All thoughts about Dylan Highland needed to stop. Every single one of them.
She sighed with relief when she heard her phone ring. “Billy, hey.”
“Thought I’d check in with you. I just want you to know I got a call from Dylan and he said he has all six songs for you.”
“He does?” She almost choked.
She had left and only five were complete.
“I know you’re anxious to get in the studio. How does tomorrow sound?”
“On Sunday?” she asked.
“We can move it to Monday. It’s your call, Layla.”
She bit on her lower lip. She needed the music to distract her, only this music would make her think about Dylan through every chord. Knowing he had written it after the piano wouldn’t help.
“Let’s just get it over with. Tomorrow is fine.”
“Good. I have the studio booked at noon. See you then.”
“All right.”
“See? I told you he would come through. This album means as much to him as it does you.”
Layla rolled her eyes. “I doubt that’s true. Bye, Billy.”
“See you tomorrow.”
She tossed the phone on her bed. She doubted she would get much sleep tonight, but at least there was work tomorrow. There would be a room full of people producing and managing the album. It would be a tough distraction, but she’d take anything she could get to stop feeling like she had left her soul with Dylan Highland.
21
Dylan
His eyes were blurry and red. He had written the song, eager to put down on paper how he was feeling. He called Billy, but explained he would drive song number six personally to the studio. It was the only piece of leverage he had. It was probably the only way he could see Layla.
She wouldn’t answer his calls and he knew Hal or someone else from security would keep an eye on her apartment. With her level of fame, she was almost impossible to contact. The studio was his only way in.
He tried to sleep, but as his
head hit the pillow the only thing he could see was Layla. Her beautiful green eyes gleaming at him while she laughed. He sat straight up, knowing it was pointless to spend another minute here while she was in Seattle.
Billy had said they would book the studio for twelve, but he couldn’t wait. He jumped behind the wheel, his guitar and a stack of music in the front seat.
When he arrived in the city, he parked in front of the studio. He leaned his seat back and folded his arms across his chest. He let his eyes close for a minute. In a few hours the sun would rise, and Layla would be headed for the studio.
This was the only way.
22
Layla
She pulled the headphones on her ears. “Sounds good,” she called to the sound booth.
Ever since she had arrived at the studio, she had felt ravenous. She had sent the errand girl out to bring in an early lunch. She pushed back the gnawing reminders that these were the same signs as pregnancy. First the wine, now the appetite. Her stomach rolled.
“Ready, Layla?” Billy asked from inside the control room.
She gave him a thumbs up. It wasn’t going to be easy to sing Crave, but it was going to be the first single off the album. She waited to hear the music before she launched into the song.
The group in front of her was speechless when she finished. “Another take?” she asked.
Billy stared in disbelief. “That’s your first single. It has to be.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Holy shit that was good.” The producer sat in his chair. “He’s a fucking genius.”
She waited while they queued up the song for her background vocals.
Bear Treble (Highland Brothers 4) Page 5