Bear Treble (Highland Brothers 4) (4 page)

H
e swallowed hard
. The harder he tried to restrain his bear, the harder he fought back. After the melody flowed from her lips, all he could think about was making Layla his. He wanted her. He wanted to possess her the way she had taken possession of his song. The want was burning through his fingertips.

His nostrils flared. “I need a break.” He dropped his guitar and walked around the side of the porch.

This was exactly what his bear wanted. He wanted him to lose control—unleash the animal. The woods called to him. He could shift and run through the forest. Dylan scowled and picked up a log by the woodshed and grabbed an ax.

He swung the blade over his head until it sliced through the log, splintering it in two. He picked up the fallen pieces and laid one on its end to split it again. The more logs he cut, the warmer his muscles became. He made a hefty stack next to the shed.

“Just how long is your break going to take?” Layla walked up from the house.

He looked down at the log and swung the ax preciously. “I don’t know.”

She stopped a few feet from the stump. “Can I try?”

He halted mid-swing. “You want to cut wood?”

She moved closer, reaching for the ax. “It’s been awhile, but I used to split wood for my grandfather.”

Dylan stepped back as she gripped the handle and heaved it over her head. He stopped himself from chuckling at her. He had to give her the swing. She had that, but the ax was wedged in the log.

“Hold on, let me help you.” He reached around behind her, his hand sliding over top of hers. As soon as he touched her he felt the fire rage through him. It was the fire he had been avoiding for the past hour.

His palm burned from the want for her. He moved her hands out of the way so he could dislodge the blade.

“Here.” He handed her the handle, trying to calm his bear. He had to get this under control.

She twisted those full, lush lips together. “Maybe I should stick to singing.” She held up the ax. “I’ll let you do this part.”

“Might be best.” He retrieved the ax from her, but not before he caught the look in her eye. “Stand back,” he directed her.

Layla positioned herself against the woodshed while she watched him hack a few more logs. “You do that like you’re splitting pencils.”

“Nah. I just make it look easy.” He looked around for a wider log. One that would look more challenging, even though he knew his bear could chop a hundred pieces before getting tired.

“I’m trying to figure you out.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I could say the same thing.” He touched the blade to the center of the wood before cutting through it.

“Me?”

“Yeah.” He stood back. “I still don’t know why you’re out here. I would have delivered the songs on time.”

She huffed, “Yeah, well maybe I don’t know you well enough to trust you. It’s my career on the line.”

“Mine too. We both have something at stake here.”

Her chest rose, pushing her breasts forward and he couldn’t stop his eyes from fixing on the swells peeking over her tank top. If he didn’t know better he thought Layla liked the attention. She arched her back a little deeper away from the shed wall.

“Maybe I wanted a break.”

“A break from being an international star? Come on.”

Her eyes quickly lowered to the ground, and for the first time he thought he had struck a nerve with her. “Wait, is that it? You used this as an excuse to escape?” he asked.

“It’s not an excuse,” she pleaded. “It’s still work.”

“But you’re using my refuge as yours.” His brows knitted together in a frown.

“The house is huge. It’s not like you don’t have room.” She planted the heel of her boot on the wall.

“What could you possibly want to escape from? I’m sure back home you don’t have to lift a finger to do anything.” He hung the ax inside the woodshed. He had enough logs to use if he wanted to make a fire.

“You think I like having people manage me twenty-four-seven? It’s constant. I never have time to myself. I never have this.” She looked up at the sky.

“Yes, I do think you like it.” He stood in front of her.

She pressed her lips together. “Well I don’t. You don’t understand.”

“No, I guess I don’t.” He brushed past her, but before he was two inches away, she reached out, her hand gripping his forearm.

“Don’t do that,” she whispered.

He took a giant breath. It was exactly what his bear wanted. To be alone with her outside.

“We were in the middle of a conversation, Dylan.” Her eyes drifted to his lips. “Don’t just walk away.”

He felt the shudders under his skin. Her fingers pressed into his shirt, but she might as well have been raking her nails over his bare flesh. She was driving him crazy in every way.

“I’m going to load up the firewood,” he explained.

He had said it, but instead of turning in the direction of the pile he had made, he pivoted so that her body was in front of him. He didn’t want to stack wood. He didn’t want to walk away from what she was telling him. He wanted to taste her.

His hand slipped to cradle her jaw. She tilted her lips toward him, her green eyes hooded with lust. And he lost it. He lost the last shred of control he had on his bear.

His lips crashed into hers, drawing her lush body against him. She moaned as his tongue slid inside her mouth, exploring the corners. She wrapped her arms around his neck, purring under his mouth.

He nipped at her bottom lip, feeling the fullness between his teeth. He grazed over her neck, sucking against her skin, behind her ears, along her throat. Her hands were everywhere. He felt her nails dig through his flannel shirt as she threw one leg around his waist.

He kissed her long and hard, causing her to moan his name. It was a more beautiful sound than her singing.

All he could think about was, ripping the plaid shirt from her chest and nuzzling between her beautiful breasts. He wanted to feel her delicate skin on his tongue. He wanted to lick and suck every part of her. He could peel those tight jeans right off her hips, drop to his knees, and taste between her legs.

He growled lowly. He could do all that. He could take her here and now.

His hands tangled in her hair as he brought her mouth under his. “This is not happening, Layla,” he whispered.

He let go. He made inches turn into feet as he backed away. Her skin was flush and her breath was hot and rapid. But there was a new expression on her face—longing. He had opened something between them he shouldn’t have.

He couldn’t look at her anymore. He would explode right then. He stacked an armful of wood and marched toward the house.

S
he ran
her fingers over her swollen lips. Holy hell, that was the most amazing kiss she’d ever had in her life. Her entire body felt it. She let her head rest against the woodshed. She needed a minute to steady herself before walking back to the house.

It had been just like the song. The kiss unleashed something in her she knew she would always crave. When Dylan kissed her she wasn’t thinking. She wasn’t analyzing what he was thinking. She just let it consume her. It was pure like a kiss should be.

She smiled, pushing off the wall. Dylan Highland was full of surprises. Not only could he pierce every musical note in her body, he could kiss like a fucking rock star.

She walked up the steps to the front porch, wishing he had been there waiting on her. He was probably inside unloading the firewood.

She picked up the guitar from earlier and sat down. Before she knew what was happening, she sang a chorus, repeating it over and over.

The front door cracked and she heard footsteps behind her.

“What are you doing?” Dylan’s voice was deep.

She rotated in the chair. “I think I have a chorus. Want to write the rest?”

He picked up his guitar. “Let me hear it again.”

She repeated the words that had come to her after the epic kiss.

“How about this?” He sang a few lines.

Layla nodded. It was exactly what she was feeling, only she couldn’t start there. For some reason her brain jumped to the chorus first. Maybe it was because her body was still buzzing from what his lips had done to her.

An hour later, they laid their guitars down. Layla looked at him. “I think we have another one for the album.” She smiled. She wasn’t about to tell him it was a hit.

“I think so.” He seemed quiet. She didn’t want the kiss to make things awkward, she wanted it to make things matter. It meant something. It meant as much as the song they had just written.

She reached over and placed her palm on his knee. “We’re two for two. I think we make a pretty good team.”

It almost seemed as if he was in pain. He pried her fingers off his leg. “Yeah, I think between
Crave
and
Unleashed
you’re not going to have to worry about the album. You wanted number ones.” He stood, his tall figure towering over her.

“There’s more to it than that.”

He turned for the door. “I need to check the fire.”

“Dylan, wait. Aren’t we going to talk about that kiss?”

He shook his head. “I think we just did.” He walked inside, latching the door behind him.

H
e walked
into the living room, staring at the flames raging through the fireplace. There was more to Layla Love than he had realized. He had written her off as a spoiled diva. But he had been wrong. She could write. She could sing. And damn she could kiss. He had to get her out of here.

He threw another log on the fire, his ears twitching every time the wood hissed and popped.

Every second with her was exquisite torture. His bear was hungry for her, no matter what the man in him wanted. He refused to give in to the animal. Man or bear—she wasn’t the kind of woman he could have relationship with. She toured the world. She was recognized everywhere she traveled. He doubted she could hit a mall or grocery store without an entourage to keep the fans off her. Hell, she hadn’t even driven herself to Highland House.

So she could make pancakes? He knew that wasn’t normal life for her. She didn’t drive. She didn’t run to the coffee shop. Her life was managed in every way possible, down to the boots that she wore. That managed life included her career and this album.

Layla could tell him she was in charge. She was the boss, but he knew enough artists to know she belonged to the business. She belonged to the fans. To the music. To the contracts. To the label. She was about as free as his bear.

He glared at the fire. She would never be his. She couldn’t be.

He heard her boots clack against the hardwood. “Hey, I thought you might come back out. You know we aren’t finished.”

His hand rested on the mantle. “I was thinking you could call Hal to come pick you up.”

The hurt look on her face almost made him double over. He didn’t expect the jab to his gut.

“You really want me to leave?” she asked.

“I don’t know if we can keep working together. We’ve made a dent in your tracks. I’ll finish it by tomorrow. I’ll get everything sent to you. You don’t have to worry about me coming through. I won’t let you down.”

“Did it bother you that much?”

“What?”

“The kiss. Is that what this is about?”

There was more truth in the question than she knew. “I don’t get involved with clients. I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

She walked closer, her heels hitting the floor harder with each step as if she was trying to let him know how close they were to each other.

“It’s a good thing I don’t have a policy like that.” She smiled. Damn she had a beautiful smile. The way her lips turned at the corners drove him crazy, especially now since he knew how they felt between his teeth.

“I’m serious. It’s not a good idea for us to get involved. I have a reputation to maintain, Layla.”

She straightened her back, shifting slightly on her left heel. “And I don’t?” He saw the fire in her eyes.

“I wasn’t trying to imply…”

She held up her hand. “You don’t have to say anything else. We’ll keep it professional.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re not going to fight me on it? Or fire me?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “Why would I? Just thought we could have some fun while we’re here. What difference does it make to me as long as I leave with the songs?”

He studied her. Her words said one thing, but her body language said something completely different—so did that kiss.

He had a moment when he could tell her she was wrong. It wasn’t just fun for him. It meant something. Being with her altered his entire life. It bore under his skin, needling its way into his blood. But that would mean admitting to his bear that he wanted her. It would mean giving in to the beast.

“Where are you going now?” Layla stood with her hands on her hips.

“We need more wood.” He barged past her.

“But you just cut all of that.”

He didn’t care. He had to get away from her.

“Dylan?”

He closed the door, rushing toward the woodshed. He could feel the fur beneath his skin aching to emerge. It took everything he had to control his bear. He was starting to worry he didn’t have enough strength to make it through the weekend.

He looked up at the house when the notes flashed in front of him. He abandoned the ax and the pile of uncut timber and retraced his steps to the porch and his guitar.

He had another song to get out.

H
e stared
at his bedroom ceiling. Dinner had been uneventful. He made salmon steaks and salad. He wanted to eat and get out of the kitchen. Layla didn’t try to hold him back or pelt him with questions. The silence had been almost unbearable.

He said goodnight then climbed the stairs. Lingering with her near the fire wasn’t a good idea. Singing another song together wasn’t a good idea. The one he had written on the porch came at him in full force.

The problem was Layla had unlocked the door that was holding his music in. She had also unlocked his bear.

Dylan turned on his side, tugging the quilt with him. The words came easily to him now. So did the notes. He hadn’t felt this alive as a songwriter in months.

He only needed to finish two more songs and she’d be gone.

The pit hardened in his stomach. He was going to send his mate away. Send her back to the world she belonged in. He didn’t even want to belong in this one.

He thought about the other Highlands. He didn’t know how Crawford and Striker did it. Or even his brother Chase. Hudson was the only one who came close to understanding why he didn’t want to embrace his bear. They could live double lives. They could use the family home as a place to run free in their shifter form, but he couldn’t do it. He flipped to his back. No. He wasn’t going to let his bear win.

Two more songs and Layla would be gone.