Worthy of the Harmony (Mountains & Men Book 2)

by Martin, R. C.

  I bite my lip in an attempt to hide my smile, appreciative of the fact that the flirty, arrogant little shit is back. Am I ready to meet his parents? Fuck no. But that wasn’t his intent. If what he said to Rosemary is true, then he was making a sacrifice for me tonight. Just like the surprise visit and the cinnamon swirl coffee cake, this is gesture that I cannot overlook. With his arms wrapped around me, keeping me close, I realize that I’m not ready for him to take me home, either. Being here with him is the only place I want to be right now.

  “Do these burgers come with fries?” I ask, gripping a fist full of his shirt in order to pull him even closer. “Because I love fries.”

  “I’ll buy you all the fries you can eat, baby doll,” he assures me, sealing his word with a kiss.

  MILLICENT WASN’T KIDDING about her love for fries. I finish my burger before my fries and she finishes her fries before her burger. When I spot her eyeing my basket, I chuckle and then switch them. She smiles at me from across the table and I offer her a smirk as I pick up her half eaten sandwich.

  Words can’t express how relieved I am to see the light in her pretty, dark green eyes. After what happened at Giuseppe’s, I thought for sure I’d be in deep shit. The look on her face when Rosy told her that not only did our parents own her favorite restaurant, but they were also in the building, it about put me in straight up panic mode. Thank fuck I got her out of there and, as far as I can tell, she’s having a good time.

  We steer clear of any heavy topics of conversation as we talk about a bunch of random shit. She tells me more about her job and I tell her more about the band. We talk about the places we’ve been and, surprisingly, neither of us are very well traveled. Of course, I dream of seeing the world—singing at venues in every country. She admits that she aspires to visit Russia; that she longs to see the land in which some of her favorite novels are set, even if it’s a more modern representation than what she’s read. I’m not at all surprised to learn that she’s a fan of classic literature, just as she’s not surprised that I am not.

  When we’ve finished with our meal, I dispose of our trash and meet her at the door. I approach slowly, taking her in for the dozenth time since she answered her door at the beginning of the night. Her dress reminds me of every delicate curve on her body and accentuates her long-ass legs and her perfect ass. I know mine isn’t the only cock that stirs at the sight of her. Every guy in this joint has checked her out, but I can tell she hasn’t noticed.

  She has no idea how fucking gorgeous she is.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I tell her, securing my arm around her waist.

  As we start our walk back to my car, she grows quiet. I wonder what she’s thinking, and I’m about to ask when she finally speaks.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Yeah,” I reply with a shrug.

  She looks at me as she reaches up to tuck a few strands of hair behind her ear. “You said that you hadn’t been to Giuseppe’s in almost two years. Does that mean you haven’t seen your parents in just as long?”

  “Nah,” I reply. “We see each other. I have my pride, but I’m not an asshole. I show up for holidays and birthdays.”

  She nods and I can tell she wants to know more, but she doesn’t ask. After the way she shut down on me in the car when I asked her about New Jersey, I’m smart enough to figure out that she has no desire to talk about whatever beef exists between her and her parents—but I have no issue with being honest. Truth is, the rocky relationship I have with my mom and dad is just further proof that I’m chasing after a dream and I’m not going to let anyone or anything stop me.

  “Remember how I told you my sisters and I all got cars for our sixteenth birthdays?” She hums her affirmation, the look in her eyes communicating that I’ve got her full attention. “Well, that’s also when we had to start working at Giuseppe’s. They wanted to teach us about the value of a dollar and all that; plus, they weren’t about to pay for our gas to drive everywhere. Anyway, Pepper worked there until her sophomore year of college, until she found an internship in her field of study. I dipped as soon as I graduated high school. Moved out and everything.

  “Our relationship was a little strained after that, but I still hung around. Then a year and a half later, when I decided I was done with college, they lost their shit.” I shake my head, remembering that conversation—if you could even call it that. It was mostly them yelling at me and telling me I was ruining my future. “To this day, they still believe I’m wasting my talent.”

  “I don’t understand. Haven’t they seen you perform?”

  “No, not really. I mean, they used to listen to Knox, Maddox and me mess around, but they hoped I was going through a phase.”

  “If they've never heard Mountains & Men, then how can they argue that you’re wasting your talent?”

  I look at her, studying her expression as I try to think of how to explain. I can tell by the way she’s staring at me that she’s genuinely interested in my answer. Her question implies that she believes I’m not wasting my talent at all. She’s told me before how much she loves the band, how much she enjoys seeing us perform; but just like the other night—when she told me that she hoped the whole world would sing with me—I can feel her belief in me. It makes me want to kiss her.

  I press my lips to hers softly. She leans into me, just slightly, and I kiss her again before I turn us around, leading us back in the direction we came.

  “What—where are we going?”

  “I want to show you something,” I tell her with a sly grin. “We passed it, though. Come on.”

  We don’t have to walk very far before I see it—the alley I’ve been to more times than I can count. As far as alleys go, it’s about as dangerous as a well lit room. It’s wide, the walls covered in paintings with lights strung up along the way. It leads to The Square, where small shops and more restaurants are located. What I’m looking for, though, is at the mouth of the entryway. The piano painted yellow with pink polka-dots.

  Scattered throughout Old Town, there are about a half a dozen painted pianos. I know the location of every single one. I’ve spent many a drunken night, after hours at the bar, wandering around in search of the out of tune contraptions.

  I pull out the bench and sit. When I look up at Millie, she’s eyeing me suspiciously. “Come ‘ere, gorgeous,” I insist, holding out my hand.

  She wraps her fingers around mine and follows my tug. I guide her down into my lap so she’s sitting on my right thigh, her body turned so that I can still see her face. “What are we doing?”

  “I told you,” I murmur before kissing her cheek. “I want to show you something.”

  I poise my hands on top of the ivory and ebony keys in front of me and pause for a moment, clearing my head as I search for the notes I’m looking for. When I find them, I begin to play. Millie sucks in a breath as she sits up taller and gapes at me. I catch her eye and offer her a wink before I focus my attention back on my hands. Soon, all I feel is the music pulling me under. I close my eyes and surrender to the unstoppable force that is my passion. My fingers don’t stop and I don’t miss a single note or phrase; it always comes back when I sit in front of the instrument that I know as intimately as I’ve ever known any woman.

  When I’m finished, I take a deep breath and then open my eyes. At the sound of a quiet applause, I look around and see that a few pedestrians have stopped to listen. I wave, dipping my head in thanks before I direct my focus back to the woman in my lap.

  “Oh, my god, Sage,” she mutters, her eyes wide in wonder. “What was that?”

  “That was Beethoven. That was the piece that got me into Juilliard.”

  She jerks away from me, her lips parting as her mouth falls open. “Holy shit.”

  I shrug, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair. “When I was two, my mom brought home this toy piano. Apparently, I wouldn’t play with anything else for weeks. When I was three, they started paying for my lessons. My parents are totally
into the college thing, if you hadn’t guessed, so I applied to all the schools they told me to. I knew I wasn’t leaving, but a part of me just wanted to prove that I could get in anywhere. I got in everywhere—scholarships included. But that wasn’t the dream. That’s never been the dream.”

  I stop talking and wait for her to say something. And wait. And wait. I frown when she doesn’t speak, her eyes just searching my face for I don’t know what. Suddenly, I wonder if playing for her was a mistake; I wonder if, now that she’s seen this part of me, if she thinks the same thing my parents do. She's a damn college professor, for crying out loud. No matter what she says, I know college matters to her.

  “You think I’m wasting my talent too, don’t you?”

  She blinks and shakes her head, as if to clear her mind of whatever thoughts were keeping her silent. Then, she shakes her head again; only this time, at me. She surprises me when she places a hand to my chest with a small smile. “No,” she speaks softly. “I mean, you’re amazing. That—that was incredible. But, I’ve also seen you up on that stage. I see the way you love it, the way the crowd loves you. You were born to perform, there’s no question about that. But, Sage, you were meant to grace the stage in jeans and a t-shirt—not a penguin suit.”

  I laugh as I wrap my arms around her, pulling her against me. She gets it. She sees me. I thought she was something special before. Now? Now, I want her even more.

  I slide a hand up her back, into her hair, and around the nape of her neck, drawing her in for a kiss. With a single flick of my tongue, she opens up for me and frees a sigh. She shivers when I lick the roof of her mouth and then suck on her top lip. I grow stiff in my jeans when she wraps her arms around my neck, crushing her mouth against mine. She gives and I take, then we switch—both of us clinging to the other as we explore one another's mouths.

  “Sage,” she breathes, her lips still grazing mine. “Take me home. Get me out of this dress.”

  “You got it, doll face.”

  I CLOSE HER FRONT door behind me, spinning the deadbolt before my heated gaze scours her from top to bottom. She hisses a breath in through her teeth, lifting her hair off of her neck and back, as if she’s burning up under my perusal.

  “Too hot in that dress, doll face?” I ask, my voice low and my speech slow.

  She whimpers, biting her lip as she tilts her head to the side. Pulling one of her hands from out of her hair, she slides her palm down her neck and along the exposed skin of her chest. She traces her fingers along the top of her dress, toying with the zipper between her breasts before she slowly starts to slide it down. My eyes widen and my breathing grows ragged when I see that she’s not wearing a bra. She stops the zipper’s dissent halfway, then traces her fingertips from the middle of her stomach, all the way up between her tits.

  When I catch a glimpse of a small bruise on her smooth, flawless skin—a reminder of the last time I was inside of her—every bit of restraint in me vanishes.

  In one, long stride, I close the distance between us, griping her hips as I pull her against me. I drag my lips along her neck, kissing her, tasting her, needing her. She moans as I lick the path she just made with her fingers, increasing my hunger.

  I reach for the zipper, yanking it down without mercy. She’s quick to shrug her arms free of the garment, and I growl when I notice that she’s completely bared to me. I can’t say whether or not the noise that rumbles from my chest speaks of my irritation that there’s only been one degree of separation between her body and my mouth all damn night, or if I’m in awe of the fine ass woman who stands before me now—in nothing but a pair of fucking heels. Either way, it doesn’t matter; I’m all over her in seconds.

  I crash my lips against hers, kissing her hard and sloppy as my hands roam over her breasts, down her sides, around her ass. I squeeze her taut, yet malleable flesh, pressing her against the raging erection barely constrained by my pants. I can focus on only one thing right now—my mission to make her come over and over and over again. I want her to fucking beg me for more before she pleads for me to stop, her body too exhausted to endure one more moment of pleasure.

  I pull away from her abruptly and she gasps, her eyes raking my face for an explanation. I look past her, down the hallway and through her open door, spotting her bed. I tip my chin, giving her one more squeeze before I step away from her. “Bed. Now. On your hands and knees, baby doll.”

  Slowly, she begins to back her way down the hall. When she reaches the halfway point, she kicks off one heel and then the other before she turns and saunters her way to the bed. I don’t take my eyes off of her as she crawls into position, sticking her pretty ass up in the air. A grin spreads across my face, knowing she’s completely aware of what she’s doing—knowing she’s completely aware of how much I love her ass.

  I toe my way out of my shoes as I unbutton my shirt. Once the last button is loose, I shrug my arms free and begin to follow in her footsteps. By the time I’ve reached her door, I’m in nothing but my boxers, the condoms from my wallet held between my fingers. I can hear her rapid breathing as she waits for me and I’m sure her patience is wearing thin. I remove my last item of clothing, discarding my glasses on her dresser before tossing the rubbers beside her on the bed.

  I bend down and kiss the small of her back, causing her to suck in a breath. Then I bite her ass and she whimpers. My dick jumps at the sound and I wonder just how long I’ll be able to survive without being inside of her.

  “Did I tell you to take off your heels?” I demand to know, rubbing her backside with my hands. She doesn’t respond, so I smack her left side. Her back bows and I ask her again. “Millicent—did I tell you to take off your heels?”

  “No,” she barely manages as I rub small circles around the light red mark I’ve created on her skin.

  “Do you think there should be consequences for taking them off?”

  “Yes…”

  She hardly gets the word out before I smack her right cheek, eliciting another pathetically sexy sound. I wouldn’t consider myself a particularly kinky lover—but when a woman enjoys a good spanking, it turns me on to no—fucking—end. I smack her again and this time, it’s my name that falls from her lips.

  “What do you need, baby?”

  “Oh, god—touch me. Please, Sage—make me come.”

  Smack.

  “You want me, doll face? Are you wet for me?”

  Smack.

  “Yes. Yes—touch me.”

  I slide a hand down her back as I crawl up behind her, leaning over her as I sweep her hair to one shoulder. I lick her exposed ear and she whines when I suck on her earlobe. “Where do you want my touch, Millicent?”

  “Don’t tease me,” she insists, her voice husky and dripping with lust. “I’m so close—so wet—just touch my fucking pussy and make me come, Sage.”

  Hearing her say that she’s already close spurs me on and my arms are wrapped around her in an instant. With one hand gripping her tit and the other sliding its way to her sweet spot, I bury my face in her neck and breathe her in. Almost seconds after my fingers make contact with her clit, she’s trembling beneath me.

  “Goddamn!” I mutter, rubbing faster—harder.

  She reaches back and grabs a fistful of my hair as she mewls, my name on her lips like she’s chanting her favorite mantra. The scent of her arousal now fills the room, making my mouth water. I flip her over and spread her legs, dropping my head before she can protest. The second my tongue makes contact, she bucks her hips and cries out. I hold her down, devouring her sweetness, humming into the space between her slick flesh.

  She’s my favorite fucking candy

  I’ll always lick, lick, lick

  ’til the center of her tootsie pop

  And if I bite/just know I might

  She’ll taste just right, all night

  ‘Cause she’s my favorite fucking candy

  The words come to me as I lick, suck, and nibble. I repeat them in my head, committing them to memory, an
d then grin up at her. She’s both totally unsuspecting of the lyrics she just inspired, and totally lost in her own moment of ecstasy as her hooded gaze locks with mine. When I graze my teeth over her clit, her head falls back and she comes again.

  And if I bite/just know I might

  She’ll taste just right, all night

  ‘Cause she’s my favorite fucking candy.

  HE ALWAYS STAYS. Deep down in my soul, I’m sure that one day he’ll grow tired of me; he’ll leave and he won’t look back—and yet, ever since that very first night, after he’s done owning every single one of my orgasms, and after he’s come as many times as the night will allow, he wraps me in his arms and he stays.

  He’s better at mornings than I am, and he’s usually awake before me, holding me, waiting to greet me with kisses—some sweet and tender, some passionate and ravenous. Either way, I can’t think of a better way to wake up. Seeing his beautiful, icy blue eyes admiring me first thing in the morning makes me want to stay in bed all day.

  It also scares the shit out of me.

  I draw in a deep breath and shake the thought away, my eyes scanning the assignments I have laid out on my desk—the assignments I’m supposed to be grading. I managed to find my focus to teach my first class of the day, and my second and third are in just a couple of hours. I should certainly be trying to get something done, instead of daydreaming about the pianist who played me and pleasured me just as well as he did that piano last night.

  I run the back end of my green grading pen across my lips as I remember the end of our date—me in his lap as he played me Beethoven. Christ—he had blown my mind. I hadn’t been expecting that sort of performance. He really is brilliant. I can see why his parents would be upset with him for choosing another path, even if I don’t exactly agree with them. At the very least, he most certainly has skills to fall back on if he ever decides that it’s time to move on from Mountains & Men. I knew he was good with his fingers—but watching them create music?