Broken Chords (Songs and Sonatas Book 4)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Everyone laughs, and I let out a weak chuckle. Now I feel weird about my gift. Maybe I should’ve just signed my name to Damian’s card, which I know contains an Amazon gift card. His mom loves to read, so he always gets her money to spend on books, even if he can only afford a few dollars.

  I have no problem affording an expensive gift card to a spa. But sometimes I forget that I’m just a freshman in college, and most college students don’t have access to unlimited funds.

  After presents we have cake—chocolate layer cake that’s moist and delicious. When we all exclaim over it, Carla executes a little bow. “Thank you, thank you.”

  “I think I’ll hire you to make my birthday cake next year,” I throw out.

  She grins. “I’d be happy to let you. Especially if you’re serious about the hiring part.”

  “Carla,” Elisa chides, but I laugh it off.

  “It’s fine. And yes. For cake this good I’ll happily pay.”

  After laughing and talking till after nine, Hector stands and claps his hands together. “I know all you young’uns can stay up till all hours and still go to work in the morning just fine. But I’m an old man, and I need my sleep. It’s been great having you, but it’s time to go.”

  Elisa tsks at him, but stands. “Damian, let me pack you up some leftovers to take back to your house. I know you and those boys you live with don’t eat decent meals very often. Come with me into the kitchen.”

  Carla scoots over into the seat Damian vacated, butting her shoulder up against mine. “I’m glad I finally got to meet you. Damian’s told me about you some, but it’s nice to put a face with a name.” She glances around, but Ben, Sara, and Josh seem to be deep in their own conversation. “He seems to really like you. Are things serious between you?”

  “You’re the first girl he’s brought home since Adriana, his high school girlfriend,” Ben puts in. I guess they weren’t as deep in conversation as I thought, because Sara and Josh are paying attention to us too.

  “Oh, well.” I look between the four of them all staring at me expectantly. “Yeah. Yeah, I think things are getting serious.”

  The older siblings nod, but Carla puts her hand on my arm, focusing my attention on her. “Good. He has a tendency to go after outgoing girls who don’t always necessarily return his depth of feelings. So if you don’t feel the same about him, don’t string him along, okay? He doesn’t deserve that.”

  I blink at her, questions warring in my head. What would Damian think about his little sister trying to protect him? Has anyone ever tried to protect me that way?

  “I won’t. I wouldn’t. That’s not a problem with us.”

  She stares at me a moment longer, then nods decisively. “Good.”

  “Charlie?”

  Damian’s voice pulls my attention away from Carla, who jerks her hand away from my arm. He cocks his head to the side and cuts his eyes at his sister.

  I just shrug and smile in return, picking up my bag and standing. “Ready to go?”

  Holding up the plastic containers of food in his hands, he says, “Yeah. My mom thinks this should last me the week, but she doesn’t know my roommates.”

  I step to his side as his parents reenter the living room. “Thank you so much for having me.”

  Elisa crosses to me and wraps me in a hug. “Thank you so much for coming. It was lovely to meet you.” Then she lowers her voice. “Be good to my son.”

  “I will,” I whisper back as we separate. She smiles at me, and we say our goodbyes to everyone else before heading out the door.

  Damian looks down at me as we walk to his car. “And? Was it as bad as you thought?”

  I shake my head and smile up at him. “No. Not at all. Your family’s great.”

  He smiles back. “They are pretty great. Thank you for coming with me.”

  “Thank you for inviting me.” I bite back the urge to say my next thought—I wish my family was like that. But wishing for things doesn’t make them reality. Nobody knows that better than me. Dreams take hard work. And some things never can change. My mom definitely falls under that category.

  “You know,” he says after we’re in the car. “Now that you’ve been once, they’ll expect you for all the Sunday dinners with me.”

  “I’d love to.”

  Reaching over, he threads his fingers through mine, bringing my hand to his for a soft kiss, and I sigh happily.

  Even though my family will never change, I can change my life to whatever I want. And right now, I can’t imagine a better life than this one.

  Chapter Eleven

  Leading tone: the last note in a major scale; the note that leads to tonic, the first note of a scale

  Damian

  I smile at Charlie’s happy sigh. A small, contented smile that echoes the sentiment expressed by her sigh.

  “They liked you,” I say after a moment. When my mom took me into the kitchen to pack up the leftovers for me, she lowered her voice and said, “I like her. And not just because she gave me an expensive gift certificate to a fancy spa. You seem happy.”

  “I am.”

  “Good,” Mom said. “Then I expect to see her again soon.”

  Charlie turns her head, and I see the flash of her teeth as we pass under a streetlamp. “I liked them too. They’re fun. They’re a lot more … vibrant than my family.”

  “What’s your family like?” I ask the question carefully, not sure if she’ll answer. I’ve noticed that she doesn’t like talking about her family. Or her life before coming to Marycliff. Finding out she used to work on music tours was a revelation. Maybe that’s why the guys she’s used to expect sex so quickly? Maybe waiting till the third date seemed like a long time to her. Shit. Is the fact that we’re waiting this long a problem for her?

  But she’s never seemed to be upset. Frustrated, sure, but that’s mutual. And her frustration has been more of the unresolved sexual tension variety, not frustration with me. At least, I don’t think so.

  “My family,” she says slowly, her voice pulling me out of my newfound worries. “They’re … focused. And kind of intense. At least my mom is. She has specific ideas about how things should be and browbeats everyone until they fall in line with her vision of reality.”

  I’m quiet while I contemplate that. “That sounds …”

  “Unpleasant? Terrible? Fucking awful?” she supplies.

  I let out a low chuckle. “That’s not what I was going to say, but those all work.”

  She leans her elbow on the center console, moving closer to me. “What were you going to say?”

  “I was going to say that it sounds like there’s not much room to live your own life in that kind of environment.”

  Her hand lands heavily on my bicep, not quite hard enough to be a hit. “That’s not what you were going to say.”

  I smile and glance at her. “Maybe not, but you distracted me. It’s true, though. It does sound like it’d be hard to figure out your own way growing up like that.”

  “You have no idea how right you are.” She lets out a deep sigh and centers herself in her own seat again, her thumbnail going into her mouth.

  “What about your dad? He just gives in too?”

  “Yeah. He used to push back some, but not so much anymore. Mom knows best. At least according to her. It’s easier to do what she wants than to try to fight her.”

  That statement hangs in the air between us for the next mile as we approach the freeway exit to head toward the South Hill, where we both live.

  “You’re not doing what she wants now.” I state it quietly as we wait at the light at the end of the off ramp.

  She swallows and looks down at her hands in her lap. “No. I’m not.”

  I leave her to the internal battle she’s clearly waging, not pushing for more right now. She’s already shared more with me tonight about her family than she probably has in all the weeks we’ve known each other combined. The thing about her mom trying to push her into doing what she wants isn’t n
ews. But she hasn’t made her out to be such a bully in the past. Just that they disagreed about the way Charlie should live her life.

  And now I want to know what her family does on these tours. Are they part of the road crew? Catering? Maybe they’re in the backup band for different acts? That would make a certain amount of sense given Charlie’s musical talents. The fact that she didn’t have formal lessons for several years comes into clearer focus now. And why she knows more about popular music than classical music. I feel like I’ve gotten a more complete picture of who she is.

  It surprises me that her parents would have brought her on the road with them. Did she grow up on the road like that? She’s mentioned being homeschooled for high school, so maybe so. Maybe that’s what she really meant. But I can see why she’d gloss over it. She’s intensely private, and she said that in a group setting. Saying she spent her high school years being homeschooled on a tour bus would invite a whole host of questions that someone who avoids attention wouldn’t want.

  “Did you plan on inviting me inside? Or making me walk home?” The humor in Charlie’s voice makes me focus on where we are. At my house.

  “I’m sorry. I drove here on autopilot. Do you want me to take you home?”

  She peers out the window, taking in the dark house and lack of cars. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s here. I’d be happy to come inside if you want me to.”

  “I want you to.”

  The dark gray walkway almost blends in with the grass because the streetlights are few and far between in this neighborhood, largely blocked by mature trees, and Zeke and Jason didn’t turn on the outside light before they left. Hand in hand, Charlie and I head across the grass and up the wooden steps of our peeling front porch. After unlocking the front door, we step inside, enveloping ourselves in darkness.

  “Let’s not turn on a light,” Charlie whispers. “Let’s just go to your room and stay in the dark.”

  “Why are you whispering?” I whisper back.

  With the blinds drawn and not much light coming from outside, I can barely make out her shape, so I don’t see her smiling, even though I know she must be when she laughs. “I don’t know,” she answers, still whispering. “Why are you whispering?”

  “Because you are.” I tug on her hand to lead her to my bedroom. Once inside, I close the door behind her, and she backs herself against it, pulling my mouth to hers with startling accuracy. She wraps her arms around my neck, pushing her chest against mine, and I respond, my arms sliding around her back, holding her to me as tightly as I can.

  It’s even darker in here with my light blocking curtains, and we operate by feel. Closing my eyes doesn’t even make a difference, but I find myself doing it anyway as my hands roam up and down her back while she hooks a leg around my hip.

  We let out matching groans of desire when I push back into her, her back braced on the door as my hands pull her hips against mine, grinding myself into her heat. “God, you feel so good.” Her thin leggings don’t disguise anything about how soft she is.

  Her arms fall from my neck, and the next thing I know, her clever fingers are working the leather free from my belt, pulling it out of the loops then yanking the button on my jeans open.

  With another low groan, I catch her hands, stilling them just before they dive inside my open fly. I swallow hard a few times. “Not tonight, Charlie.” It costs me to say that, because I want her. So much. But I also don’t want to rush. And tonight was a big night, full of revelations and meeting my family. It’d be easy to get caught up in the moment and go farther than we’re ready for. Because I don’t just want to have sex with Charlie. I want to make love to her. And I want her to make love to me.

  I think we’re close. After tonight I’ve basically admitted to myself that I’ve fallen for her. But I’m not a hundred percent sure she’s there with me. I don’t want to take that dive unless I know I’m not alone.

  A soft thunk indicates that she’s let her head fall back against the door. “When?”

  I swallow again, my worries from before rushing back. Is she going to leave if I hold out for too long? But if she does, if that’s all she wants, then this isn’t the right relationship for us after all. That thought stings, so I decide it doesn’t matter right now. “I don’t know, exactly. Soon, I think.” I hope.

  “But not tonight.”

  “No.” I release her hands and trace my way up her body so I can find her face, tilting it up so I can kiss her again, gently this time, hoping to tame some of the crazy running through our blood, but not wanting to lose our connection.

  She kisses me back, her hands running up my chest, caressing over the fabric of my shirt, then back down, slipping underneath to slide over my bare skin.

  When she breaks the kiss, we stay there like that for a moment, her hands on my chest, mine still cupping her jaw. She’s still here. Still with me. She’s not giving up. Yet.

  Her soft breath whispers over my face. “Can I … I want to feel you. Explore you. Make you feel good. I know you’re not ready to go all the way. And that’s fine. But I need …”

  When she trails off, I can imagine her biting her lip in uncertainty, so I run my thumb across her mouth for confirmation. She surprises me by opening her lips and sucking my thumb into her mouth. Her tongue circles it, teasing, and I suck in a breath. “What do you need?”

  She releases my thumb with a pop audible in the dark stillness of my room. “I need to show you how I feel about you.”

  Once again she’s taken my breath away. I nod, but realize she probably can’t tell, so I clear my throat. “Okay.” It still comes out huskier than I planned.

  She pushes me away a little. “Let’s go to your bed.”

  Shuffling back to my bed on the other side of the room, I keep her with me, pulling her down on top of me, sealing my mouth to hers once more. She opens for me, sucking my tongue into her mouth like she did with my thumb just a second ago. Her fingers tickle my sides as she bunches my shirt, pulling it up to my armpits, breaking the kiss so she can push it over my head.

  Before I can pull her back down for another kiss, her fingers slide into the waistband of my underwear. “Lift up,” she says softly.

  “Charlie …”

  “I know. I promise, we won’t do anything you don’t want to do. But … please? You said okay. Let me make you feel good.”

  In answer I lift my hips, letting her strip me bare, and even though she’s barely a shadow, I feel vulnerable like this. When her hands run up my thighs, I flinch.

  “So jumpy. Relax. This is a good thing.” She rubs them up and down like she’s getting me accustomed to her touch. Which is funny, because we’ve done a lot of touching in the last few weeks. Even so, it takes a conscious effort to relax and give myself over to her hands. I have a feeling I know what she wants to do, and even though I want her hands on me, I’m not sure how far she wants to take it.

  When my thigh muscles soften, she slides her hands even higher, to my hips, up to my abs, her fingers smoothing over the fuzz leading from my belly button down.

  “I’ve always thought happy trails are sexy.” Then she leans down and places a kiss in the middle of my torso, a few inches above my belly button. My dick twitches when her shirt brushes against it.

  Soft, wet lips touch again and again, occasionally her tongue flicking out to taste me. My hands clench into fists as she moves lower. “Charlie, what are you doing?”

  The bed shifts, and I know she must be sitting up, because I can’t feel her breath on my skin when she answers. “I told you. Making you feel good.”

  Her hands slide down, back over my hips then up and in, one hand gently cradling my balls while the other closes over my shaft, pulling it away from my body.

  Whatever I might’ve said next leaves my head, and all I can do is groan at her soft hands touching me where I ache for her the most.

  She pumps me a few times, and her hot breath fans over the head of my dick.

  “Charlie?”r />
  She doesn’t answer. Instead those soft, wet lips make contact, and my hips arch up involuntarily.

  Her tongue swipes up the length of my shaft. Again. And again. Moving up and down and all around, her hand gripping me, sliding over my shaft now slick with her saliva.

  “Oh, God.”

  She lets out a low chuckle. “I told you I wanted to make you feel good.” Her mouth closes over the head of my dick again, her tongue swirling around, finding all the sensitive places. Some I didn’t even know about. Because no one’s ever done this to me before.

  Her touch is more exploration than anything right now as she tastes me, grips me with her hand, squeezing. Her other hand still cradles my balls, gently fondling me in a way no one ever has before. She settles into a rhythm, slow and steady, her mouth sucking, tongue moving, the firm pressure of her hand stroking me, feeling like an extension of her mouth. Hot, wet heaven.

  My eyes widen as her fingers caress the skin behind my balls, exploring, stroking, but not too far. The pressure on my taint makes my dick pulse in her firm grip. She increases the suction and speed in response, her finger rubbing that same place again. My hands tighten in the sheets, my breath coming faster, harder.

  That seems to spur her on even more.

  “Oh, God. That feels …” I can’t even verbalize how it feels. Words are lost in a whirlwind of sensation. My entire being is focused on her hands and mouth on me and how amazing it is.

  My abs shudder, and I need to pull back or I’m going to blow in her mouth. But I can’t move away from her. I’m flat on my back on my bed, with her crouching over me. “Babe, I’m gonna …”

  I don’t even get the words out before I surge into her mouth, my hips driving up, doing the opposite of what I wanted only a second ago, acting outside of my conscious control. My balls tighten as she sucks hard. My abs contract so hard, I almost sit up, and with a shout, I come in her mouth. She takes it, milking me with her hand, still sucking as I lay twitching under her. Once she’s drained me dry, she lets me fall from her mouth, the air cold on my overheated dick.