Bear Treble (Highland Brothers 4) (5 page)

H
er fingers spread
over the keyboard. The Highland piano was gorgeous. Layla loved baby grands, but this one was exquisite. She was almost afraid to play it. Sometime when she was sleeping she heard the words. There were wrapped in an image of Dylan.

His hands were canvassing her body. His mouth was hot and fierce. His tongue lethal. She closed her eyes, trying to hold on to the faded images she still had from the foggy dream. The one thing she did have was the lyrics. She wasn’t able to sleep so she crept down the stairs and closed the music room door behind her.

She touched her fingers on the white keys before pressing them. The music came easier to her as she sang what she remembered.

She sat upright when she finished. She wanted it to be real, not just a dream. She was afraid the lyrics would be true. Dylan would only be a memory, not a part of her life. She wanted to know him that way. She wanted to understand what made him the way he was.

As soon as he would let down the curtain, he’d pull it back up. Like yesterday by the woodshed. The kiss had consumed them both, but he instantly acted like it never happened.

She ran her fingers over the keys.

“Did I hear another song?” he asked from behind her.

She was afraid to turn around. She wondered if she had awakened him. “It sort of hit me.”

“Play it again.” He walked up to the piano. “Do you have more than the chorus this time?”

“Not really.”

She wanted to tell him she couldn’t finish the dream or the song without him. He was the missing piece. It was the same as when she came in from the kiss. Dylan was the one who could write an entire song. He was the one who could hear the full composition in his head. She only knew how to snag the parts that occupied her heart.

“Go ahead.” He crossed his arms as if he were her music teacher from high school.

She huffed then started the song. The words filled the study, bouncing off the walls, invading every part of the house. But she knew as she sang it was invading more than rooms—it was erasing the space between Dylan and her.

When she finished with what she had put together she looked at him for feedback.

“So, what do you think?”

“It’s good. Very good, actually. But what if you added something like this for the bridge?”

Before she knew what was happening Dylan scooted her to the side and sat next to her on the long bench. He was so big he almost knocked her to the floor, but she sat on the edge and watched as his fingers took control of the keys.

“If you added a run like this in the middle I think it would really bring the chorus forward.”

She nodded, knowing he could turn anything into platinum magic. He was brilliant. And as much as she had tried to resist after he rejected her yesterday, he was sexy as hell.

“I kind of like that part though.” She placed her hands in between his on the keys. “What if we added them together?”

Her arm slid along his as she wedged herself in position to play the part of the song she had created.

“Like this?” he asked, pounding into the keys.

She didn’t know why he asked her—he could turn the
Itsy Bitsy Spider
into an incredible ballad. He had a gift. It was like being under a spell watching him create new music. Here she was, sitting next to him. Her limbs entwined with his as the notes whirled around them and the music came from her throat.

“I like it.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You might have a career in songwriting,” he joked.

She didn’t want to move her arms. She liked how they were pressed against the solid muscles of his forearms. Her fingers almost touched his on the keys. His shoulder cut over her arm and every time he took a breath she could feel his wide chest move.

“That makes number five.” She smiled. That meant there was only one song left.

If she were honest with him she would tell him she didn’t want to write the last one. Because that last one would mean she’d have to leave Highland House. And she didn’t want to go anywhere.

H
e couldn’t move
. If he dared to unlock the tangled mess of arms they were in, he would touch more of her. He would feel the soft curves of her flesh through her shirt. He would know more of her body than he already did. And that was dangerous.

This close to her he could smell her hair, and the expensive perfume she wore. It was enough to make him feel drunk. He closed his eyes, determined not to move a single centimeter.

“Chopsticks?” Layla giggled and started playing.

Distracted, he relaxed and moved into his part of the duet. “Wow, pulling out the big guns.” He couldn’t help but laugh. She was fun. She had energy and was constantly surprising him.

“That’s all you know?” she challenged.

“Oh, you have no idea.” He reached across her to hit the treble notes.

And that’s when it happened. She twisted toward him slightly. He didn’t mean to brush against her lips, but he did.

He felt the plump curves lock against his as Layla’s hands drifted from the keys to his neck.

He had a sudden urge to kiss every square inch of her. But as her lips parted, she drew his tongue inside. He curled his hands behind her head, crushing his mouth against hers.

She made little cooing sounds as he sucked along her lips and tongue. It drove him wild, stirring something primal in him. Waking his bear’s deepest desires.

Her tongue lashed against his and ripped a growl from his chest. Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. But as soon as he saw the fear flash across her green eyes, it turned to deep lust. She fucking liked it.

His giant chest heaved another breath before kissing her again. He tangled his hands in her hair, exploring her mouth with deep kisses. Layla tilted her head backward, giving him complete access to her neck.

He couldn’t turn away if he wanted to. His tongue ran along her throat stopping to kiss the skin at her shoulder. Her fingers began to unfasten the buttons on her shirt, sliding the sleeves off her arms.

He pulled her flesh between his teeth and sucked against her skin.

She let out a long low moan. It only turned him on more. He was so wrapped up in her he didn’t think he could stop. He didn’t want to stop.

He wanted to taste and touch her. He wanted to claim her. As his hands moved over her arms and back he knew he had let the chain on his bear slacken too much. The bear was taking control and there was no way he could save himself or Layla.

He knew they would both be going up in flames.

H
is mouth was
hot against her skin. She could barely keep her eyes open. Every sensation felt as if she were floating through fire. But something was happening. Dylan was no longer hesitant and distant. He was taking charge of her body with every kiss.

“Oh God,” she moaned as he pushed her bra down, popping her nipples over top of the lacy fabric.

His tongue instantly flicked over the smooth flesh until it perked into a tight bud. She heard his reaction as he palmed her breast, bringing it to his mouth. He didn’t suck gently as his mouth devoured her. She clutched at the back of his head, pressing him deeper against her chest.

In another instant he moved to the other side, giving it the same kind of divine torture. She flung her head back as he toyed with her nipple with vicious strokes.

She didn’t know when it had happened. When the notes between them switched to this, but she didn’t want it to stop. She didn’t want the music to stop. Her body was Dylan’s to play.

She yanked at his T-shirt until it was over his head and on the floor under the piano pedals.

She raked her nails against the planes of his chest. He was solid and strong like a stone wall. She marveled at how the most beautiful and sensitive music could come from someone so domineering. He closed his eyes as she let her fingertips comb the ridges of his torso. Each muscle was perfect. Each line was sculpted like a block of marble.

Her hands landed on the button on his jeans, freeing it and then pulling the zipper downward. Dylan groaned as she rubbed her hand against his erection. It strained against the denim.

She didn’t need his direction. The passion drove her through every step. She sighed as he unclasped her bra and let it fall to the floor. Then she stood, her body wedged between the bench and the piano.

His hands cupped between her legs and her pressed a kiss against her navel, his hands sinking into her flesh. She watched as he peeled the jeans down her legs, leaving her in only white lace panties. She knew the instant he looked at them he would know they were wet. Wet from the kisses he had given her.

His hands clutched her waist and drew her forward. He kissed her stomach again then lower, blowing warm breath through the silky fabric. He pressed his mouth to her center and she thought she heard the strange rumbling from his chest again. She couldn’t figure it out, only that it made her want him more.

“Sit,” he ordered. He wiggled her hips backward until her bottom was sitting on the keyboard. The notes echoed around them as she sank into the keys.

He eyed her greedily as he placed one heel and then the other on either side of him on the piano bench. Layla’s breath was heavy and rapid. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, as he shoved the bits of fabric out of the way and bent his head to kiss between her legs.

When she felt the first lick she tried to push her knees back together, but his thumbs dug into her thighs keeping her in place.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

He kissed along her thigh and as his mouth trailed closer to her center her legs were open wide. She knew how incredible his tongue was, but as he moved it between her wet folds she realized she had had no idea.

She rocked her hips against his tongue, sending a crash of notes into the air. His mouth lapped and sucked at her, until she felt the tight coiling in her core. The one that told her she was about to explode. Although this was unlike any other foreplay she’d ever had. Dylan kept her pinned to the keyboard, while his tongue thrust in her entrance. Every time her hips bucked the keys clashed under her. She couldn’t stop the symphony screaming inside her as he sucked her throbbing bud before twisting his tongue inside her.

The music wasn’t the only thing screaming. Layla realized her own voice was singing out over the piano as her orgasm rocked her hard. She clutched and gripped at his tongue while her release fell in waves around her.

She sighed and leaned back against the music stand. But before she had a moment to rest, she heard Dylan’s jeans hit the floor.

Her eyes flashed open to see the most solid and thick cock bulging from between his legs. It sent a shiver through her. She’d never wanted to feel anything so badly. She reached forward, taking his shaft in her palm.

Dylan groaned as she began to run her hands over the silky skin. He was wide and pulsing, and the thought of his hardness sliding in her made her wet all over again.

“Layla,” he murmured as his hips began to rock into her hands.

All she had to do was guide him forward and he would be inside her. There would be more between them than the music. Their bodies could find their own rhythm.

“I want you, Dylan,” she whispered. She moved her hand over his steel shaft until he was nestled in the warmth of her wetness.

He groaned, “You feel good. Too good.”

His eyes opened and she saw the fire in them. She swallowed hard. This man wanted to fucking devour her. She could see it. She could feel it. And she wanted him to take her.

His hands raked under her backside, banging the keys as he hoisted her ass upward. The motion made the tip of his cock pry against her entrance.

She hissed at the intensity, but wanted all of it. Every damn inch of him inside her.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “Tell me, Layla.” His fingers dug into her bottom. She couldn’t tell if he was restraining himself or urging her to give him the answer he wanted.

“Fuck me, Dylan. On the piano.”

If she thought he was going to think through it or hesitate she was wrong, he roared over the baby grand as he sank his cock inside her.

Her hands gripped his shoulders as he kicked the bench out of the way and pulled her against his waist. It was so deep and intense she thought she would jump out of her body, but as he began to pump against her she felt like she was soaring over the keys.

He thrust into her and the keys mashed under her. She threw her head back, jutting her breasts forward. His mouth landed on her nipple and began to suck, searing the heat into her skin. She fisted her fingers through his hair, as the music rose up around their heated, sweaty bodies.

I
t wasn’t enough
. She was so tight and hot. Wet like smooth honey. He gripped her ass tighter under the key, trying to fill her with everything he had.

He picked her up from the keyboard, feeling the soft weight of her body in his hands. She was everything he wanted. Beautiful and musical.

Her feet touched the floor as he withdrew his shaft from her. He pulled at the white lace, stripping it from her thighs. She smiled as she kicked the tangled panties out of the way.

“Turn around,” he urged.

Her eyes brimmed with fear. “What are you going to do?”

He snaked a hand around her neck, drawing her lips to his mouth. “Take you so deep you’ll be mine.”

He felt her quake against his body. She stepped back, turning on her heels then pressed her palms against the top of the piano on either side of the music stand. Her nipples draped over the keys.

Once it had started he hadn’t been able to stop. He was wrapped up in her. Her gorgeous sassy mouth. The green fire in her eyes. The swells of her hips. And once he had been inside her, he knew he wasn’t going to stop until he had claimed her.

He ran a hand between her legs, groaning as he felt the warm wetness between her folds. He couldn’t help but massage the swollen nub. Her knees buckled as he flicked against it.

“Oh, Dylan. I want you.” She bucked her hips as he ran a finger between her and around her entrance.

“I want you too.” He pressed the tip of his cock against her hot opening.

He didn’t care that his bear had won. He had given up caring the moment he tasted her lips again. Her breasts were meant for him. The honey between her legs was meant for him. She was his music.

“Fuck, Layla.” He thrust inside her feeling her stretch over him, coating his cock with her warmth.

The keys crashed as he moved in and out of her. She rocked into him, dragging her nipples over the keyboard. Every note he heard he knew she was getting closer to coming. She tightened against him. Her breath quickened.

“Dylan, please. Please” she pleaded. Her palms flattened against the black wood.

“You are mine.” He plunged into her, sending jolts of lightning with his pulsing shaft.

She began to quiver and moan as her orgasm ripped through her. He held her hips while he unleashed his seed deep inside her. He thrust again, needing every ounce of her being to belong to him. He gave her everything he had. She was as much his as he was hers.

He knew as he pulsed inside her warm walls that he had already been hers from the minute she stepped foot on the porch. She sang what was in his soul. How could there possibly be any other woman for him?

He kissed her spine, knowing his hot seed was claiming her. Making them mates forever.

“Wow,” she breathed. Her skin was dewey under his lips.

His bear felt sated and happy. He had finally done what he was meant to do. He had claimed his mate. Made her his. Filled her with his seed.

But as Dylan stood, and he pulled himself from Layla, the man in him began to emerge through the fog of lust and sex.

Oh God. He almost fell to the ground. What had he done? What the hell had he just done?