by Hayden Wolfe
His dick thickened, hardened impossibly more. Her inner muscles clamped down. She moaned his name. He groaned hers. His seed rushed down his shaft. His hips jerked, over and over, as he spent himself.
Finally, he tumbled sideways. His dick slipped from Blaine’s body. He pulled her against him. Then held her. He just held her. Damn if it didn’t feel good to listen to her breathing slow and her body relax against his.
Minutes passed. Blaine’s breathing grew even and rhythmic. She’d fallen asleep in his arms. He wanted to follow her into sleep. Too bad he couldn’t. Practical matters had to be taken care of first.
Jack slowly eased his body from hers. Blaine didn’t move. He breathed a sigh of relief. He wanted to curl around her sleeping frame once he disposed of the condom.
He made his way to the bathroom and cleaned up.
A hard knock to the front door stopped him from returning to Blaine. He cursed. Levi was supposed to pick him up at noon. They hadn’t slept that late.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, Jack made his way to the door and flung it open.
Eliot Sutherland’s assistant/bodyguard stood on the other side with an oblong package. Alex’s eyes hardened. He swept his cool gaze down Jack’s body to focus on the towel hanging loosely from his hips. “Is Blaine home?”
No British accent accompanied the question. Alex could’ve been born and raised in coal country. The hairs on Jack’s neck rose. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Blaine’s sleeping. Do you want me to give her a message?”
Alex worked his jaw and met Jack’s eyes, then handed over the shiny wrapped package with its red bow. “No need to wake her. I’m just dropping off this gift from Eliot. He’s hoping she’ll like the instrument he chose for her and will play it for him when she sees him again.”
Jack took the package. “I’ll tell her.”
Alex inclined his head, then turned and jogged down the steps.
Jack waited until Alex got in his car before closing the door and making his way back to Blaine’s bedroom.
Propped on her elbows, Blaine smiled at him as he walked through the door. Her focus slid to the package he carried. “You got me a present?”
At the moment, he wished he had been the one to get her a violin. That excited look in Blaine’s eyes for him would’ve made his day.
“No.” Jack set the package on the bed. “Alex dropped it off. It’s a gift from Eliot.”
“Eliot is the most stubborn—”
“Open it.” Jack didn’t want to hear what Blaine thought of Eliot, good or bad. His name had no place in her bedroom while Jack sat in it.
Blaine rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
Burgundy felt cocooned a violin. He couldn’t make any guesses about its quality but Blaine’s shocked gasp and widened eyes suggested it was a very good piece.
“Did you get a worthy instrument?” Jack finally asked.
Blaine lifted the violin. She studied it from all angles and gingerly caressed the chin rest. “It’s my dad’s violin.”
He wanted to know how she could tell but didn’t bother asking. Her expression told him she was certain it belonged to her father, and that wasn’t all. Jack tipped up her chin. “Is your father gone?”
Moisture pooled in her eyes. She nodded. “He died about ten years ago in a robbery. This violin was one of the things stolen. While we recovered many of the other pieces off the black market, we couldn’t find his violin. Father had always promised to give it to me on my sixteenth birthday.”
And Eliot had been the one to deliver it. Or more accurately, Alex had.
Jack cracked his jaw. He handed her the bow. “Play it for me.”
Blaine shook her head. “I can’t. I don’t have any music.”
“What about the notebook you were writing in last night?” Eliot might’ve given Blaine something irreplaceable, but Jack would be damned if the Brit would hear Blaine play it first.
Panic widened her eyes. “No. I can’t. I haven’t practiced in weeks.”
“You can.” He dug a fresh pair of underwear from her drawer, shorts, and a tank top, then took the violin from her and dropped the clothes in her lap. “Or you’re not getting this back.”
“What?” Blaine reached for the violin. “Give me that!”
Laughing, he held it out of reach. “I’ll give it to you on the deck. Then you can play it for me.”
Arms in the air, Blaine hopped and tried to grab the violin out of his hands. He turned his body, and she wrapped her arms around him. “Dammit, Jack. If you don’t give that to me, I’m going to…I’m going to…”
With a grin on his face, he glanced at the furious woman behind him. Seeing the ire in her eyes tore a chuckle from him. Damn if she didn’t look adorable. “What are you going to do? Have your way with me again?”
Blaine wrinkled her nose. On a feminine growl, she shoved away from him and snatched the clothes he’d picked for her. She stormed for the hallway. At the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. “Don’t blame me when your ears bleed, Jack Sander. I’m not that good.”
She pivoted and made her way down the hall. The bathroom door slammed.
Jack grinned. She was wrong. She was perfect.
His to enjoy.
At least for the next week. Maybe two.
Chapter 10
Memories assaulted Blaine, some happy, some sad. She embraced them all. Her first fifteen years had been the happiest of her life. Between private tutors, acting and singing lessons, and the hours she’d played the violin, her schedule didn’t allow much time for fun, but her dad always made sure she enjoyed her downtime. It made all her hard work worth it.
Well, his promise she’d get his prized violin had helped encourage her to do her best too. Losing it and her dad had changed their family and her life forever.
Blaine followed Jack outside. He stood at the far back corner of the deck, the spot where you could see the lake, the four homes surrounding it, and his parents’ barn. Dressed in the same cargo shorts and shirt he’d worn yesterday, he held the violin and bow gently, reverently, as if he understood how much they meant to her.
Her blood rushed through her veins. Her hands shook. She smoothed them over her thighs and retrieved her notebook from the lounge chair. Licking her finger, she flipped the pages until she reached the music specifically written for the first violins. Not only would they carry the melody of the piece, but the solo would give her a chance to shine…if she ever played this music in Eliot’s tour.
She didn’t need to read this music. She’d written it from her heart. Seeing the notes scribbled in her handwriting settled the trembling in her limbs, however. Her fingers moved in tune with the melody as it played in her head. She swayed slightly. Tension drained from her body. Need replaced it. This music was meant to be played. By her.
Blaine tossed the closed notebook on the chair and strode to where Jack stood watching her. Avoiding his eyes, she held out her hand. This music, this moment, and this violin belonged to her. Part of her didn’t want to share any of those things with Jack. She didn’t want to send him away, though. She couldn’t pinpoint why she wanted him here. In the end, it didn’t matter.
The music needed an outlet. Now.
She wiggled her fingers. “Hand it over, buddy.”
Jack laughed. “Or there’ll be hell to pay. I know, and I don’t have any more condoms left.”
He placed the violin in her hands before she could respond, then passed over the bow.
The natural light brought out the rich colors in the wood, hypnotizing her with its beauty. She turned the violin, examining it as if she’d never laid eyes on the antique piece with its elaborate lion’s head at the top and the Zima named carved into the side of the neck. Not an ounce of grime marred the swooping letters or distorted the majestic mane of the lion. She knew without playing a single note that it would be tuned perfectly and the finest horsehair would be stretched along the bow. Eliot wouldn’t allow anything inferior to touch her hands.
> With a smile on her face, she closed her eyes and held the violin between her chin and shoulder. The chords leading up to the solo she’d envisioned played out in her head. The beat quickened. Her breaths did too. Still she waited, the bow poised, her fingers a hairsbreadth above the strings until the music peaked. Then she played, slowly at first, drawing out the melody in the hauntingly agonizing pace. She swayed. Her feet carried her. She turned, gliding across the deck as she chased the music.
The bow moved faster, sharper. Her fingers danced over the strings. The music surrounded her. Consumed her. Holding nothing back, she gave herself over to it as completely and openly as she’d loved Jack last night. Her pulse raced as it had in his arms. Her skin heated. The peak loomed in front of her. She reached for it, pushing herself to hit notes she hadn’t attempted in years.
The thrill of victory swelled with each perfect sound.
Welcoming the warmth of the sun on her face, she arched her back in the pause where the flutes and oboes would carry the music from her racing solo to the lowest point. The heartache. The desperation. The loneliness.
She bent forward. Her hair obscured her view of Jack’s legs, but he stood in the same spot. Watching her. Silently supporting her.
Blaine played the lowest notes too, those hollow sounds, the ones that brought tears to her eyes and a lump to her throat. With a flick of her head, she tossed her hair back and carried the rest of the symphony until she reached the last note she’d drawn.
The silence that descended tightened her chest. She didn’t like the feeling. Didn’t like the hollowness spreading through her.
The bow was plucked from her loose grip. Jack’s face filled her vision for a brief second before he took the violin and bow and laid both gently on the lounge chair with her notebook. Then he pulled her against him and kissed her.
His lips on hers warmed the iciness in her blood. His hands sliding from her hips to the sides of her breasts eased the tightness in her chest. His passion drew her back from the brink.
She linked her arms around his neck and took from him, everything she needed in this moment. He gave it. Didn’t hold anything back. Lust built, the raw and unadulterated kind that only Jack had unleashed within her.
She rocked against him, pulling him as close as they could get without joining their bodies. She wanted to be that close. Needed him loving her from the inside out until they reached heaven together.
Jack settled his hand on her ass, stilling her body, and turned his head, breaking the kiss that had awakened her. “You need to stop lying to me, Blaine. I can see right through you.”
A laugh tore from her throat. His comment flipped the switch inside her from wanting to get him naked to wanting to play with him. “Me? What did I lie about?”
He dug his fingers into the mass of her hair and cradled the back of her head. “For one, you are an angel. And two, you are that good.”
She rolled her eyes to hide how much his praise warmed her. “And are you an expert on angels or violinists?”
“Nope. Never saw one until you walked into my bar.” Jack bent close, catching her gaze and holding it. “But I know one when I see it. You’re the real thing, Blaine. Never would’ve guessed it either. Then again, some predators have wings. I should’ve considered the possibility.”
She turned, easing out of Jack’s embrace, and moved to the railing. With her elbows resting on the wood, she studied the lake. From this distance, she couldn’t see the ripples over the water. The breeze blowing through the valley guaranteed the water wasn’t as still as it looked, however.
Jack laid his palm at the base of her spine and stepped next to her. “Does this mean Eliot will never find his way into your bed now?”
Brow raised, she glanced at Jack, letting the question show in her eyes. What was he talking about?
“You don’t mix business with pleasure.” Jack motioned toward the lounge chair. “That was phenomenal, Blaine. Exactly like Eliot said. You’re a natural. And with your dad’s violin, you’re—”
“It’s not my dad’s violin. Not exactly.” Blaine cut Jack’s glowing praise short. He didn’t know how lucky she’d gotten playing that piece. She was rusty. Her singing had consumed most of her days these past few years. The violin, when she had it with her, amounted to a hobby, nothing more.
“It’s not the one stolen from him?”
“It is. And it was his. Now it’s mine.” She glanced over her shoulder and focused on the lion’s head. “It’s the Zima violin. It’s passed down from generation to generation. I would’ve gotten it on my sixteenth birthday.”
“Then it’s a good thing it found its way back to you now. Don’t you think?” Jack studied her. His expectant stare demanded a response. She had none to give him.
“Don’t you think it’s a good thing? To have found it now when you have the opportunity of a lifetime in front of you.” Jack filled the silence.
Leaning a hip against the railing, she faced Jack. “You sound like Eliot now. Did he get you alone last night and convince you to add a little pressure to his sales pitch?”
“No. You sold me just now. You’re amazing. I’m not feeding you any lines either. The way you played, the way you moved…” Jack swept his gaze over her, slowly, as if he hadn’t slept naked next to her all night. “You made that music come alive. I felt it in my bones. My heart raced.” He stared into her eyes. “My freakin’ hands shook.”
She couldn’t stop her smile from spreading. The reaction Jack described was the one every musician wanted to elicit. Knowing she’d touched Jack in such a visceral way was a dose of power, the dangerous kind, the stuff that would fuel her compulsion to succeed. If she could touch Jack’s soul, she could reach the hearts of a packed hall of concertgoers.
She could be that good, exactly as Eliot proclaimed.
Jack linked their fingers. “Play and I’ll come to your first show. Every show I can.”
Blaine blinked. She took a step backward. Jack tightened his grip on her hands. “It’s a world tour.”
Jack didn’t hesitate. “I can renew my passport.”
She eased her hands from his. Her fingers trembled. “It’s not even set in stone. Eliot’s in the recruiting stages. It’ll be at least two years before the first showing. If he can even get enough musicians. None of us are getting paid. It’s truly a charity tour. And Eliot…he’s a dreamer. There might not even be enough interest in such an event.” Especially considering many in the music world viewed him as a failure. “We might do a couple of shows and that’s it. That’s a risk. I’d be giving up my time, focusing on my playing. I’d neglect my singing, my fans, the career I built.”
Jack snatched her cold hands and held them in his larger, warmer grasp. He rubbed his thumbs over her wrists. “How does the song end?”
Caught off guard, she stared into Jack’s brown eyes for a long moment. The change in subject seemed abrupt. “What makes you think it’s not done?”
Jack shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly. A feeling, I guess. It just felt unfinished.”
She took a step closer and tipped her head back to hold his gaze. “You do have a musical talent. Not many people would pick up on that.”
“Or a good ear for a story.” At her blank stare, he chuckled. “Working in a bar makes me a good listener. Your music tells a story, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” And she hoped he didn’t ask what kind. She didn’t want to bring up the subject of love when Jack held her hands in his as if she mattered to him. She didn’t want to break his heart.
He nodded as if her answer was the one he expected. “It didn’t end. I was waiting for it to.”
“I don’t know how to end it. I’ve been debating for months.” She’d hoped attending a stranger’s wedding would’ve given her the inspiration to finish her song. Obviously not. Both outcomes—misery and happiness—called to her.
“It’ll come to you.” No hesitation. Jack’s confidence gave his words power. She felt them in her heart
.
She stood a little taller. “Of course it will.”
The revving of an ATV sounded off in the distance. After a moment, it grew louder. Jack cursed. His shoulders slumped. “My ride’s here.”
“Levi?” She forced a smile even though she wanted to curse too. Levi’s timing sucked. She’d enjoyed talking with Jack.
“Yep. I told him to pick me up at lunch if he didn’t hear from me sooner. Guess time got away from us.” Jack slid his hands up her arms, then released her. “I never got to cook you breakfast either.”
“You cook?” The question was ridiculous. He was thirty and lived on his own. Of course he cooked. “I mean…you were planning on making me breakfast?”
He bent and kissed her tenderly, as if he had all the time in the world to love her mouth. “Least I could do. You did let me spend the night.”
When he put it that way, his offer didn’t seem as sweet. It was more like a “thanks for the sex” payment. She focused on his chin. “You saved me from having to deal with Alex. I’ll take that over a meal any day.”
Jack lifted her chin with the back of his hand. His intent stare stole her breath. “Why?”
One word. It held a wealth of protectiveness and rage. Jack was ready to fight for her. Not the reaction she was used to. Men normally fought for her attention, but this meant a heck of a lot more. Too bad Jack wouldn’t be following through with his unspoken promise to save her.
The only threat she faced was the path her life took. She’d make that decision alone. Seemed only right. She’d be walking the path alone.
“Alex isn’t very personable. Trying to make small talk with him is incredibly hard.” She settled on a more politically correct response. Telling Jack how Alex creeped her out might push Jack to act on his protectiveness. There be no reason to do so. Alex was harmless. Eliot would be the first to tell her that. Alex was just a man who got things done, even if his tactics bordered on harassment.
Jack’s eyes hardened. He stared at her for another heartbeat, then glanced at the cabin. “Levi’s here.”
She looked over her shoulder. Levi was nowhere in sight, but the sound of the ATV had cut off. “Then you shouldn’t keep him waiting.”