The grin disappeared from his face, and he moved until he was next to me, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his heart, covering it with his. “I have two things to say to that. First, there is no one on this earth, man or woman or animal”—his lips curled back up—“that could ever make me look twice at them after seeing you. After being with you. You are everything I’ve ever wanted. You’re themoreI’ve been looking for since I realized something was missing.”
My free hand journeyed to his lips, rubbing a thumb along the bottom one. Full and pink and tempting me. He kissed it, and then pulled it away, joining our hands with the ones already on his chest so that the thump of his heart beat against both our palms. A rhythm. A song I wondered if he would write about.
“Second, when Cass and I first went to look at Kincaid’s, it was because I was thinking of building a studio there. Obviously, that’s changed, but I’m still hoping to find a place here in Grand Orchard. This way, I don’t have to be gone unless I’m on tour. And I can already guarantee you, those tours are going to be much shorter, because just the two nights we’ve been apart has been enough to make me want to tear out every vein in my body.”
I couldn’t help the small quirk of my lips at his dramatic words. Music and lyrics. Heart. “I’m not holding you to any of that,” I said. “We’ve hardly gotten to know each other. You might hate everything about me once you really get to know me.”
He laughed. “Not possible.”
“I’m serious, Brady.”
“So am I,” he said.
I didn’t know how to argue with that. I couldn’t argue with his feelings. They were his. Mine felt like I was falling and falling hard, but I didn’t want to put the expectation of a lifetime on him.
“There is one thing I ask,” I said.
“Anything,” he said.
“If we…if we don’t work out…” He was shaking his head in disagreement, and I couldn’t help how it made my small smile grow into a bigger one. “If we don’t work out, you can’t forget about Hannah. She’s going to count on you, and if you break her heart, I won’t be able to forgive you.”
He let go of my hands to put them on either side of my face, moving so our bodies were aligned, touching and curling with longing and desire. “I’d hire Nash to bury me alive if I ever hurt her.”
It was a vow. A promise that pulled at the last remaining strings holding my old heart together. It crumbled apart in his hands.
“Can I kiss you now?” he asked, serious. No smile. No tease.
My answer was my lips on his, the sweet sunlight filling the room when our mouths met even though it was night. Everything else disappeared. There was just him. His touch. His tongue. His lips. His voice saying all of my names?Cari,Cariño, Tristan?like a song he was singing. A beat that was just him and me. A song that was as brand new as the dress I was wearing.
Proving the quote right, the simplest things were really the most beautiful. A kiss. A touch. A word. That was all I ever needed.
Brady
DONE
“You need a man you can lean on, done.
You need some faith you can hang your dreams on.”
Performed by Chris Janson
Written by Paulin / Oglesby / Roy / Janson
She was here in my space,kissing me, and it filled my head with arubatoof notes. Random volumes and lengths and tempos, as if there was too much and not enough. I dragged my hand through her colored strands of hair, landing on her neck and trying to pull us closer together when there was already no space between us.
My tongue explored, with a slow circle, the soft recesses of her mouth. The taste of dark chocolate and cream soda overwhelmed me like it had every time we’d kissed. Intoxicatingly sweet and torturously sexy.
Her hands slid across my bare chest. I’d forgotten to put a T-shirt on when I’d gotten out of the shower because I’d had notes filling me that had needed to be played. I’d barely been able to write them down when she’d knocked.
Now, I had more chords flying through me, vibrating at each touch of her hand, at the way she moved slow and steady over my chest. When her fingers curled into the waistband of my sweats, I shuddered in joyous expectation.
I let the hand not tangled in her hair explore the heart-shaped curve of her dress, and her flesh puckered under my touch, her nipples rubbing along the heel of my hand, and I hardened to an almost painful level. Thoughts of her and me with no clothes between us.
I picked her up and set her on the stool, my hand finding the skirt’s hem and sliding underneath it, trailing over white silky skin. She pulled her lips away from mine and made her own trail, this one with kisses across my neck and down my chest, licking my hard nipple and making me groan.
My hand skirted the satin of her panties, remembering the beauty of how she’d come, riding my jeans while wearing the sweats I now had on. Remembering the soft gasp, and needing that again, I slipped my fingers underneath, and she moaned again.
“Too many clothes,” she panted.
