Bear Treble (Highland Brothers 4) (6 page)

S
he turned around carefully
, feeling the coolness of the keys brush over her breasts. She’d never experienced anything like that kind of lovemaking in her life. Dylan had taken her like she had always wanted.

She’d never admit it, but sex had never been that great. Sure men would say they wanted to sleep with her because she was a celebrity, but they were too scared to touch her. It always happened with the lights off and in a missionary position. She loved everything Dylan had done. It was as perfect as one of his songs. They had made a new kind of music together.

She smiled, but when she saw his face all the giddiness coursing through her quickly faded.

He sat on the bench, running his hands through his hair. “No, no, no,” he muttered.

“Dylan?”

She leaned toward him, but he threw her hand off his arm. “Leave me alone.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He stood, pacing the edges of the room. “You don’t know what this means.”

“That we had amazing sex?”

His eyes were set in dark lines. “I tried to get you to leave. I told you to call Hal. I told you you couldn’t stay.” He ranted as if she wasn’t in the room.

“Are you? Do you regret it?” She felt the coldness wash over her. Her body had been warm from him. His beautiful kisses. His powerful cock. His strong hands exploring her.

This was the man who had been on his knees in front of her with his mouth between her legs, demanding she do what he asked. And now she didn’t recognize him.

She yanked her clothes from the floor as she backed up toward the door.

“Don’t answer. Don’t say anything. I’ll call Hal.” She raced from the room before Dylan could say another word.

She ran up the stairs, tripping at the top step. She couldn’t get to her room fast enough. She slammed the door behind her and locked the knob. She held the clothes to her chest as the tears streamed down her face.

How could he? How could he regret it? She let them fall as the sobs wracked her shoulders. She’d give herself ten minutes to fall apart. Ten minutes to let her heart break. Ten minutes to let the pain shred her. But after that she would shower, get dressed, and get the hell of out of Highland House.

H
e was so disgusted
with himself he couldn’t even look in the mirror. He turned the shower to hot and stood under the stream. There was no forgiveness for what he had done. He had let his bear consume him with lust and primal need. He had let go of the chains. He knew when he did it. He knew when she looked at him that he didn’t want to hold on any longer. He dropped them like the responsibility of controlling his animal was too much to bear. It was the one thing he had separating him from being a beast and he had lost it.

He didn’t want his bear holding him back. He wanted to fuck her, like he wanted to breathe. And he did. He hung his head, the water sliding down his back.

Now she was his in every way. He clamped his eyes together. She was his.

God he loved it. He loved every second of it. He groaned, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue.

But when he sent her away, the pain in her eyes was unbearable. She thought he was angry with her, but that wasn’t it. He was angry at himself.

He had taken her without telling her what she was signing on for. What if she was pregnant? He slapped the shower wall. How could he fuck up like this?

He stayed under the stream until the water turned cold. He cut the faucet and toweled off. He wanted Layla Love to walk out of here with six solid songs for her album. That was it. Now because he couldn’t control his bear, they were life mates, and she might be carrying his cubs.

He leaned against the counter, daring to look at his reflection. What kind of man was he? He knew the answer—he was only half a man—the other half dominated by his bear.

He closed his eyes remembering how she felt in his hands. How she sounded when he made her come. The moment their bodies collided, he’d never felt such intense power surging through him. It wasn’t all bear. There was emotion and connection with Layla he’d never had with another woman. She was everything he could want in a mate. She was soft and gorgeous. He loved her voice and her body. He loved how she wanted him. He loved how she gave over her body and took his in return. It was exactly how it should have been, until he fucked it up.

His eyes opened. His chest seized in a violent shudder. He knew looking in the mirror his bear was locked up. This wasn’t his bear talking. It was him.

He tried to imagine Layla sliding on her leather boots and walking out of the house with her bags. He pictured the car picking her up and driving her back to Seattle. It was like a knife puncturing the space between his ribs. She was his mate. His to protect and love.

What the hell had he just done? Did he really just ruin the precious moment after he claimed her? Bear or not, he knew in his soul that he was in love with Layla and he had to find a way to make things right.

H
e threw
on a pair of clean jeans and threaded a T-shirt over his head. How could he be an idiot man and bear? He didn’t know how long he had been in the music study or his room. But he headed in the direction of the guestroom Layla had chosen. It was time to tell her the truth.

He wanted to tell her everything. She had to know about his bear. She needed to know that he would protect her the rest of her life. It would be complicated, but they would figure it out together.

He knocked on the door. “Layla, you there?”

His ear twitched, but it was quiet on the other side of the door. “Layla?” He cracked the door, but it was empty. Her suitcases were gone.

The panic ripped through him. How long had he left her alone? She said she was going to call Hal, but he hadn’t stopped long enough to check the time. It could have been hours ago since they were on the piano. He raced down the stairs, calling her name. But the house was silent.

He searched every room, but they were all dark.

“Layla!” he called as he darted on the front porch.

He looked down at one of the wooden rockers. The stack of music they had worked on was there. He picked up the sheet music. There were five songs. On top was a sticky note.

That was all it said. He felt the rumble in his chest as he let out a roar into the night. It echoed off the trees and bounced off the side of the house.

She was gone.

“
Y
ou can put
them over there, Hal.” She pointed to an empty space next to her couch.

The bodyguard dropped the suitcases and waited for his next set of instructions.

“Thank you,” she huffed. She didn’t have the energy to be overly nice. Rejection after mind-blowing explosive sex sucked.

“I’ve done a perimeter check, Miss Love,” he reported. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.”

“Thank you.” She waved him on as she slumped onto her white leather couch and picked up the remote.

Her penthouse was quiet. She missed the smoky smell of the fireplace. She clicked a button on her remote to turn on her electric flames, but she frowned at them. They felt as artificial as they looked.

She missed the woods. She missed the music. She missed Dylan.

She turned off the TV. There wasn’t anything that would keep her attention anyway. She wondered how long it had taken him to realize she was gone. For all she knew he was still pacing his bedroom.

The shower had been running when Hal pulled up in the car. She didn’t want to say goodbye. She didn’t want to see the asshole. She had had breakups play out in the tabloids. That was devastating. People made up all kinds of horrible stories and spouted their inaccurate theories. But nothing had humiliated her like this.

She had given Dylan everything she had on that piano. Her body, her heart, and her music. It was all his, and as much as she hated him, she knew she was still his. She could feel it.

She walked toward her bar and reached for a wine glass, setting it on the smooth marble, then opened the wine fridge. She didn’t care that it was the middle of the afternoon. Alcohol might be the only thing that could numb the painful memories. But as she uncorked the bottle, she smelled the acidic aroma and put the bottle down.

“Eww,” she complained. The wine must be sour. She poured the bottle down the drain and selected another bottle. As the cork popped off that one, her nose wrinkled. It all smelled terrible.

For a slight second the horror of what that could mean rushed through her. But it wasn’t possible. No they didn’t use protection. And she had let him come deep inside her. Her belly clenched thinking how deep he had been, but it wasn’t even a plausible concept that she could be pregnant. Besides, she was on birth control.

It was an impulsive decision to sleep with Dylan, and as much as it hurt she hadn’t decided if she regretted it.

She walked to her bedroom, glaring at the king-size bed. The bed would look small with Dylan sprawled across it.

“Stop it,” she chided herself.

All thoughts about Dylan Highland needed to stop. Every single one of them.

She sighed with relief when she heard her phone ring. “Billy, hey.”

“Thought I’d check in with you. I just want you to know I got a call from Dylan and he said he has all six songs for you.”

“He does?” She almost choked.

She had left and only five were complete.

“I know you’re anxious to get in the studio. How does tomorrow sound?”

“On Sunday?” she asked.

“We can move it to Monday. It’s your call, Layla.”

She bit on her lower lip. She needed the music to distract her, only this music would make her think about Dylan through every chord. Knowing he had written it after the piano wouldn’t help.

“Let’s just get it over with. Tomorrow is fine.”

“Good. I have the studio booked at noon. See you then.”

“All right.”

“See? I told you he would come through. This album means as much to him as it does you.”

Layla rolled her eyes. “I doubt that’s true. Bye, Billy.”

“See you tomorrow.”

She tossed the phone on her bed. She doubted she would get much sleep tonight, but at least there was work tomorrow. There would be a room full of people producing and managing the album. It would be a tough distraction, but she’d take anything she could get to stop feeling like she had left her soul with Dylan Highland.

H
is eyes were
blurry and red. He had written the song, eager to put down on paper how he was feeling. He called Billy, but explained he would drive song number six personally to the studio. It was the only piece of leverage he had. It was probably the only way he could see Layla.

She wouldn’t answer his calls and he knew Hal or someone else from security would keep an eye on her apartment. With her level of fame, she was almost impossible to contact. The studio was his only way in.

He tried to sleep, but as his head hit the pillow the only thing he could see was Layla. Her beautiful green eyes gleaming at him while she laughed. He sat straight up, knowing it was pointless to spend another minute here while she was in Seattle.

Billy had said they would book the studio for twelve, but he couldn’t wait. He jumped behind the wheel, his guitar and a stack of music in the front seat.

When he arrived in the city, he parked in front of the studio. He leaned his seat back and folded his arms across his chest. He let his eyes close for a minute. In a few hours the sun would rise, and Layla would be headed for the studio.

This was the only way.

S
he pulled
the headphones on her ears. “Sounds good,” she called to the sound booth.

Ever since she had arrived at the studio, she had felt ravenous. She had sent the errand girl out to bring in an early lunch. She pushed back the gnawing reminders that these were the same signs as pregnancy. First the wine, now the appetite. Her stomach rolled.

“Ready, Layla?” Billy asked from inside the control room.

She gave him a thumbs up. It wasn’t going to be easy to sing
Crave
, but it was going to be the first single off the album. She waited to hear the music before she launched into the song.

The group in front of her was speechless when she finished. “Another take?” she asked.

Billy stared in disbelief. “That’s your first single. It has to be.”

She nodded. “I know.”

“Holy shit that was good.” The producer sat in his chair. “He’s a fucking genius.”

She waited while they queued up the song for her background vocals.

But before the music started, she heard his voice in her ears. She looked up. What was he doing here?

“Good to see you, Billy.” Dylan slapped the producer on the back.

“Dylan, we never see you in the studio. Nice surprise. I was glad you called. Want to go grab a beer afterward?”

She was frozen in place behind the microphone. Her boots wouldn’t move if she wanted them to. He was here. Dylan was on the other side of the glass, and he was staring at her.

“Break,” she stammered into the mic.

“But we just started,” Billy complained.

“I said, break,” she repeated. “Out. Get out.”

The studio emptied out and the only person left was Dylan.

He held up a piece of sheet music. “I brought you song number six.”

She held her breath, not sure if she could resume a normal breathing process as long as he was this close. The recording room door opened and he walked in.

Layla pulled the headphones from her ears.

“You left without saying goodbye.”

“You threw me out,” she spit out through gritted teeth. She pushed back a loose curl that had sprung out from the headphones.

“I didn’t throw you—ok, ok. Let me start over.” He placed the sheet music on the stand in front of her. “Sing this.”

She shot him a death stare. “You expect me to sing?”

“Just sing it.” He picked up his guitar, and began to strum.

She wanted to be mad at him. She was livid. She was embarrassed and hurt. Somewhere deep under her skin she was mortified. This man had her like no other man and yet he managed to let her walk away. She didn’t feel like singing, yet with him so near part of her had forgotten the humiliation and was almost giddy from seeing him. She scowled at that part of herself.

She picked up the paper and sang the lyrics out loud. Dylan’s eyes bore into hers as she continued.

Each word dug deeper. Each one pried into her heart. Each one found a way to slip into her soul. She closed her eyes, repeating the chorus as loudly as she could.

When she opened them, Dylan was standing in front of her.

“It’s about you,” he whispered.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She could hear it beating wildly in her ears. “I know.”

“They all are, Layla. Every song we wrote up there this weekend.
Crave
,
Lost
,
Living in My Soul
. All of them are about you. About us.”

She let the sheet slip from her fingers and flutter to the floor.

“But the music wasn’t enough, was it?” She wasn’t going to do this, but the pain was still there.

He gripped her shoulders. “The music between us is everything.”

“Then why? Why did you reject me? Why did you push me away?” The tears stung her eyes.

His brilliant eyes misted, and she felt the anguish in his gaze melt through her. What was tearing at him like this?

“I didn’t reject you, Layla. I was rejecting me.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

His fingers dug into her arms as if he needed to steady himself. “Before you showed up on my porch I couldn’t write. The music had dried up. I would have been lucky to have sent you half a verse by the end of the weekend, much less six complete songs.” He sighed. “But then you stepped on that porch and you flipped my fucking world upside down.”

She didn’t know her heart could beat so wildly.

“You unlocked the music, Layla. The songs just poured from me. My songs. Your songs. The music was in my head and in my fingers. Every time I looked at you I heard a song. Every time you walked out of a room I thought of a song that would get you back in it. When I kissed you,” he growled low. “I thought of a hundred songs about that one fucking kiss.”

She felt the fire in his hands. She saw it in his eyes.

“But you didn’t just unlock the music. You unlocked something else. The one thing I didn’t want to face. The one thing I never wanted to unleash.”

“What? What was it?” she asked.

She thought he would break away and drop the hold he had on her, but it only grew stronger.

“You unchained my bear, Layla Love. You let him out. And as much as I want to tell you he won’t come out again, I can’t. You belong to him, and to me.” His hands tangled through the back of her hair, and she tilted her chin forward.

“I thought I could stop it. I thought I could be a stronger man, but I couldn’t resist you.”

She sighed as he seized her, drawing her lips inches from him.

“I-I unleashed your bear?” She had no idea what she was saying or what in the hell he was talking about, only that his lips were about to touch hers. It was all she could think about. It was just like
Crave
.

“You unleashed him with your voice. With your damn pouty lips. With your gorgeous body.” He brushed his mouth against hers. “With every part of who you are.”

She threw her hands around his neck and leaned into the kiss as his mouth moved against hers hungry and desperate. She purred against his tongue as he lashed at her. Nothing in this world felt like kissing Dylan Highland.

She breathed heavily, then wriggled to make some space between them. She looked up at his lust-filled eyes. “I’m still confused.”

“Will you come back to Highland House with me so I can explain?”

“And leave the studio?”

He nodded. “We need to talk. We can’t do it here. There are too many people. Your assistant. Hal. Billy. I need you to myself, Layla.”

She didn’t know how she could wait through a two-hour car ride to find out what Dylan needed to tell her, but she did know every part of her wanted to hear what he had to say. If it was half as good as that song, it would be worth every cent she wasted on the studio today.

“Yes.” She smiled. “I’ll go with you.”

“My car’s out front. Let’s go.”

“Now? But everyone’s gone. They’re going to wonder…”

He crushed his lips against hers. “I’ll call Billy from the road.”

She blinked, feeling the roughness of the kiss seep into her lips. “Ok.”