Worthy of the Harmony (Mountains & Men Book 2) (12 page)

“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, and 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.