Reverb (Songs and Sonatas Book 7)

by Jerica MacMillan

  She makes a face. “True.” Her heavy sigh makes her tits rise and fall enticingly. Picking up a fork, she slices into the cake. When I raise my astonished eyes to hers, she shrugs. “Don’t want to waste a delicious cake.” And finishes cutting out a piece.

  “Hang on.” I take the fork from her hand and cut another small slice, picking up the piece between my thumb and finger. “This is our wedding cake. I don’t care about weird toast drinking rituals, but I definitely want to do this part.”

  She plucks her slice away from the cake as well, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looks me over. I look her over too, my dick twitching at her nakedness. Her shoulders lift, and her chest swells on a deep inhale that she lets out on a sigh, her face relaxing. “Okay. This is weird, since I’m naked and you’re not. And I’m pretty sure this part is more for the cameras than anything else. But if it’s important to you, you can feed me a bite of cake, you weirdo. Just don’t smash it in my face.”

  I have to suppress a laugh, imagining doing just what she commanded me not to. I won’t, because she’d knee me in the balls. Or worse, get dressed and refuse to have sex with me on principle. Especially since she came already. Shaking my head, I take the half step needed to comfortably hold the cake out for her. “I won’t. Promise.”

  With her eyes locked on mine, she holds her breath for a second, examining my face for sincerity. She still doesn’t entirely trust me, despite everything. I don’t blame her. Not really. But it solidifies my determination to earn her unreserved trust. In everything. I’ve never craved anyone before, not like this. Not just her body, but her naked emotions too. This is all new for me, and I’m determined not to fuck it up.

  Satisfied with what she sees, she parts her lips and takes a delicate bite of cake, her eyes fluttering closed as the flavor touches her tongue. I want to drop the cake and crush her to me, delving my tongue in her mouth to share that taste with her. But I don’t. Instead, I eat the cake she holds for me. They’re small pieces—only two bites each. The moment should be over almost before it’s started, but instead time is suspended. We’re locked in this moment for a short eternity, staring at each other, chocolate coating our fingers and taste buds, until she opens her mouth and sucks my index finger inside, swirling her tongue around it and making me gasp.

  Her smile is wicked, knowing exactly what she’s doing to me. I duck my head and suck her fingers into my mouth, scrubbing my tongue over them the same way I do to her clit, and her eyes immediately darken with arousal.

  She extracts her fingers from my mouth and releases my finger as well, reaching for my waistband. “Is it time to get these off now? I should’ve made you get naked before our little pretend reception minus the guests.”

  “Who needs guests? Big weddings are overrated anyway. This is perfect. You. Me. Rings. Cake. What else would you want?”

  Lifting my shirt disguises her initial reaction, and she tilts her head to the side, her gaze focused on the fabric sliding over my head and off my arms. But her brows wrinkle, and I’m regretting asking the question. “I dunno,” she answers softly, dropping the shirt and looking me in the eye. “You make a good point. But having friends and family might’ve been nice. A real wedding dress instead of what I wore to a dance club.”

  I pull her into my arms, her skin soft and warm against mine, passing my hand down the curve of her spine. “You want the fairytale? The poofy skirt and flowers and all that?”

  With a shrug she lowers her eyes to where her fingers start tugging at my belt. “Maybe? Yes. I’m not complaining. But since you asked …”

  Catching her hands with one of mine, I use the other to cup her cheek and tip her face up so she’ll look at me. “We’ll do that, okay? We’ll have a proper wedding at some point. People do that, right? Elope for themselves and then do the big party for their family and friends? I’ll make sure you have your perfect day. I want you to have everything you want.”

  Her lips tremble, and she blinks away the liquid gathering on her lower lids. But she firms her mouth and gives a tiny jerk of a nod. “Okay,” she whispers.

  I place a soft kiss on her mouth, releasing her hands and wrapping my arm around her. She presses into me, sliding her hands around my back and clinging to me. When I pull back, all sign of tears is gone, and her wicked smile is back. “Can we finish getting you naked now?”

  With a laugh, I take a step back so I have enough room to undo my shorts and push them and my boxer briefs down, stepping free of the pile of clothes to sweep her up in my arms. This time my kiss is hungry and demanding.

  She wraps her arms around my neck and her legs around my hips, pushing herself higher up my body, holding tight as I move us toward the bed. Turning, I sit down gently, lying back with her sprawled on top of me.

  When she pushes herself up, her hair fans in a curtain around us, auburn silk. I reach up and run my fingers through it, relishing the fact that she’s mine. I have the right to touch her, to pleasure her, to love her.

  She smiles down at me, love shining from her face, and reaches for the condom on the nightstand. Tearing it open, she inches back till my dick is exposed, sticky with her arousal from her sliding back over it. Her brows crinkle together again as she examines the little circle of latex, trying to work out which way it should go.

  Chuckling, I take it from her and roll it on.

  Her face smooths, and she raises up, reaching between us to guide me to her center. With my hands on her hips, enjoying the feel of her skin, she slowly sinks down, sheathing me inside her. We both let out matching hisses of pleasure at the feeling of her taking me, the walls of her pussy stretching to fit over me.

  I run one hand up the center of her torso, from her belly to her sternum, holding it there. She plants one hand on my chest, her other hand covering mine on her chest.

  And with her eyes locked on mine, she starts to move. Slow at first, grinding on me, our hands covering each other’s hearts, feeling the way they beat for each other.

  It’s … amazing. The connection so intense it steals my breath.

  Soon, she’s speeding up, and I’ve held myself back for so long, I can’t take it. I slide my hand out from under hers on her chest, grip her ass, and help her move. Her eyes still hold mine as she works herself over me, her lids heavy. I thrust up to meet her, our pace punishing and furious. Neither of us will be able to continue like this for long, but we don’t need to.

  With a wordless cry, she starts shuddering, her body going limp as her pussy clamps down around me. I hold her steady, filling her again and again, keeping her orgasm going long enough for me to join her, grinding her down onto me as I spill inside her.

  She collapses on my chest, her heart hammering over the top of mine, both of us breathing hard.

  Another smile takes over my face. This is what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life.

  I can’t wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lauren

  Having Brendan take me to the airport in his car feels just like the last time. Only now we’re in the middle of the desert in early summer instead of New York at Christmas.

  The end result is the same, though. Him walking me to the check in counter, handing over my suitcase, and kissing me goodbye before I get in line to go through security. Both of us holding back tears. I allow myself to let a few out in the bathroom after I’m through security, just so I’m not fighting so hard to hold it together the entire flight home.

  I don’t know why I thought saying goodbye would ever get easier.

  Staring down at the rings on my hand as my plane makes its way back to Spokane, his parting words echo in my head. “We’ll make it work, okay? You and me, this is the real thing. It’ll be hard for a while, but we won’t be apart forever.”

  I nodded and pressed my trembling lips to his, willing the tears not to fall in front of him. The goodbye was hard enough on both of us without anyone breaking down in tears.

  The goodbyes getting easier isn’t the o
nly thing I was wrong about, though. I’d hoped that maybe our phone calls would be less stilted and awful, but if anything they’re worse than ever.

  When he calls tonight on a break from whatever project he had to dive into as soon as he got back, I give him a brief rundown of my day, which is never very exciting. But he’s too distracted or exhausted from working to make up for his time away to be much of a conversationalist. He’s not really allowed to talk about the pop stars whose albums he’s working on. And some part of me still suspects that he thinks I look down on his music and what he does.

  Which is irritating and ridiculous. Sure, it’s different from my music. But so is Gabby’s, and I don’t think her music is bad or beneath me. Unfortunately, there’s no easy way to have that conversation. Especially not on the phone, which seems to short-circuit our easy chemistry.

  After several minutes of listening to him breathe instead of speak, I decide I’ve had enough. “Look. This sucks. I hate it too. But you’re the one who promised we could make it work. How is that possible if you won’t even talk to me?”

  He sighs. “I’m sorry. I know. I …”

  I wait a beat, but nothing else comes. “You …?”

  “I suck at talking on the phone.”

  “No kidding.” My voice is as dry as the Sahara. He chuckles, and a small smile claims my lips. “We talk about anything and everything when we’re together. Why can’t we do that on the phone?”

  “It’s harder when I can’t see your face.”

  “Oookay. That’s a pretty easy fix.” Pulling my phone away from my ear, I tap the button to turn it into a video call.

  He answers right away, a tired smile on his face. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  Scrubbing a hand over his face, he muffles his voice when he says, “I’m a dumbass.”

  “I figured that out quite a while ago. But out of curiosity, what makes you bring it up now?”

  He drops his hand and gives me the smirk that I’ve been missing. “I’m so glad you’ve noticed. And to answer your question, the fact that we haven’t been having video calls more often.”

  I blow on my knuckles and polish them on my shirt by my shoulder in full view of the camera. “We can’t all be as awesome as I am.”

  His smile now is wide and breathtaking, even if fatigue still drags at his expression. “That is truer than you know. How’d I get so lucky to land you?”

  “Well …” I adjust on the couch so I’m more comfortable, leaning against the arm and putting my feet out on the cushions. “You’re pretty awesome too. It also helps that you have a big dick.”

  His eyes flash, and his grin turns predatory. “Of course. Priorities, right?”

  I nod, making sure to look as smug as humanly possible. “Right.”

  “As much as I love your tits—and you know I love your tits—your personality does it for me as much as anything else.”

  And just like that, I melt, all trace of smugness gone. I open my mouth, but no words come out.

  It doesn’t matter, though, because he’s not done. “I miss you so fucking much. Everyone here is out to get something from everyone. But with you, I can just be myself. You don’t care about my connections or who I’m related to or what I might be able to do for you at some point. When you listen, it’s without an agenda. And when you want to spend time with me, it’s because you want me. Not for any other reason.”

  Because I’m an asshole and can’t handle intense emotions, I say, “Well, your connections and relatives certainly don’t hurt the whole package.”

  He barks out a laugh, thankfully. I give him a soft smile. “You’re right, though. I wouldn’t care if Jonathan were your brother or not. I mean, it’s cool and all, because now Gabby and I are kinda sorta sisters in a way. But that’s not why I agreed to marry you.”

  “Why did you agree to marry me?” The question is soft, revealing a world of vulnerability in those few words.

  “Because you see me. Not just the face I present to the world, but the real me. And you don’t expect me to be anyone else.”

  I wake up on Saturday morning, about a week after coming back from Vegas, and play through the video call with Brendan from the night before, a small smile playing over my face. Things have improved since I told him he needs to make more of an effort. He has been, telling me more about the projects he’s working on. Some of it’s over my head—making music on a computer just seems weird to me, and there’s a lot of technical know-how that goes into it. But he probably feels the same way when I get into the minutiae of violin technique, so I guess we’re even. At least we both understand each other’s passion for music, even if the way we approach it is different.

  Our calls now remind me of how Gabby and Jonathan were during their semester apart. It seemed like they spent almost every waking moment on the phone. Sure, it was nauseating to witness, but now that I’m in the same position, I get it. At least I don’t have a roommate to drive up the wall. Ha.

  My phone vibrates on my nightstand, and I sit up with a smile on my face, assuming Brendan’s texting me good morning.

  But when I pick it up, it’s a text from Gabby. It’s uncharacteristically short for her. WTF?!?!?!?!?!

  Well, I guess if you count the punctuation, it’s about normal. But what is she so upset about?

  A link pops up next, followed by CALL ME RIGHT NOW!!!

  Wondering why she’s texting me in shouty caps with excessive amounts of exclamation marks, I click the link. And as soon as the web page loads, the phone drops from my nerveless fingers.

  “Shit!” I hope I didn’t shatter my screen. I can’t afford to get it replaced right now.

  Dropping to the floor, I scramble to retrieve my phone from under my bed, staying on the floor to scroll through the article just in case.

  I scroll right past the headline and text, not paying any attention. My focus is all on the pictures.

  From the bar, when Brendan proposed on one knee. From the wedding chapel. Our kiss when the minister guy said we were husband and wife. Pictures the lady at the wedding chapel must’ve taken.

  Fury rises up inside me then morphs into a sick sinking feeling.

  I know in some part of my brain that Brendan has a certain level of notoriety, but it never occurred to me that us getting married would be tabloid fodder. He’s never mentioned showing up in articles or getting interview requests, so I’ve always assumed they leave him alone except for the occasional photo with his brothers popping up now and then.

  This.

  This is something else. Something I never planned for.

  And suddenly our impulsive decision seems like a terrible, terrible idea. What were we thinking?

  Are we even ready to be married? We don’t even live in the same state.

  And Gabby’s wedding was planned and orchestrated to keep media attention away. We could’ve gotten engaged and waited to get married till we could plan things. Have a real wedding at a place that wouldn’t sell our pictures to the highest bidder. Actually tell our families.

  I haven’t told anyone. Not even my parents. Oh god. Are they going to see this? Is that how they’ll find out their only child is married? Gabby found out from the tabloids. And her reaction is to send me a text full of shouty caps. How are my parents going to react to this?

  I’m so stupid. I wanted to stay in the little bubble we’d formed in Vegas for as long as possible, keeping Brendan all to myself.

  I should’ve known that wasn’t possible.

  With trembling fingers, I pull up my phone app. But the name I click isn’t Gabby’s.

  It’s Brendan’s.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brendan

  My phone rings for the third time in five minutes, my older brother’s name popping up on the screen.

  With a sigh, I rip the headphones from my ears, rub my eyes with one hand and pick up my phone with the other. If he’s calling this many times in a row, it must be important.

  “Wh
at’s up, Jonathan?”

  “Have you searched your name lately?”

  I snort. “Uh, no. What kind of narcissist do you think I am?”

  “What I thought is that you’re a smart guy with a certain level of fame, so keeping on top of your mentions is a smart idea. You don’t have any kind of alert set up for yourself?”

  Deep sigh. I really don’t want to deal with this shit right now. I’m in the middle of working out the beat track for the bridge on a song for an important client, and The Professor wants it yesterday. “No. In case that wasn’t clear from my first no, the answer is no. I don’t have alerts set up for myself. Or for you. Or for anyone else. Because I’m not a weirdo.”

  Jonathan scoffs. “Okay, whatever. You really should, though. Open a browser and search your name now.”

  “I really don’t have time—”

  “Humor me.”

  “Fine.” It’ll be quicker just to do this and see whatever stupid blog or magazine decided to write something about the least interesting of the Brasher brothers than argue with Jonathan any longer. “What exactly am I supposed to be looking for?”

  “Oh, you’ll recognize it when you see it.”

  I disable the internet blocking software on my computer that I use to keep me on task when I’m working and open a search window, typing in my first and last name.

  “Oh shit.” The first page is full of articles announcing my wedding to Lauren. “Oh fucking shit.”

  “Yeaaahh.” Jonathan’s tone is dry. “See why it’s wise to have alerts set up on your name? Or better yet, hire a PR firm to do it for you.”

  I blow out a slow breath. “Shut up, Jonathan.”

  He just laughs. “Okay. Well, if you want help cleaning up the mess, let me know. My team can help you. But if you’re going to do crazy things like eloping in Vegas, you should probably get your own PR people.”

  “Noted.” I scrub a hand over my face and go back to scrolling through the search results. There are images across the top of the search results, and I go back up and pick one at random. It’s us walking down the aisle at the end of the ceremony, all smiles.