18. Harmony
CHAPTER 18
Harmony
I step into the bathroom, closing the door behind me before turning on the lights. Turning, I gasp out. I don’t know what I expected, but it’s not this. I knew his house would be amazing on the inside. And from the little I’ve seen in the dimmed house, I was right. But this right here, this is what dream bathrooms are made of; the floor is a light gray with a touch of blue. The floor looks modern but then with a touch of age in it. On one side is a long, dark-gray cabinet that takes up the whole wall, with eight big drawers under the pristine, white double-sink counter. Gold-framed mirrors above each sink face an equally big glass shower. The white marble has gray veins all through it, with the silver rain showerhead in the middle of it. But eight jets are on each side right in front of a bench. My eyes are at the end of the room. After an arched entranceway sits a big claw-foot tub right in front of three big white bay windows. The colored stained-glass windows must bring in different colors during the sunlight.
My feet move on their own over to the tub as I see it’s big enough for two people, and if this was any other time and place, I would opt out of taking a shower and soak in this tub. But after the night I’ve had, and knowing he’s out there waiting for me, I quickly walk over to the shower, pulling open the glass door to start the water, trying to settle on a temperature. I turn and put his T-shirt on the counter next to what has to be his sink. A couple of receipts by the sink look like he took them out of his jeans pocket before taking them off. I pull my shirt off and then the bra too, folding them. I see Winston’s fingertip marks on my upper arm. My stomach lurches to my throat as I see the light-purple marks, knowing they will be worse tomorrow. I shake my head. It’s not the first time he’s put his hands on me like that. My other hand comes up to touch the marks, hating him even more than I hated him before, and that’s saying something.
I undress the rest of the way before turning and stepping into the shower. I put my head back as the water falls on my face, mixing with tears, before turning and letting the water wash over my hair. I open my eyes and reach out for the bottle of body wash, opening it and immediately smelling Brady. A sense of peace settles over me, just from his smell. I put a dollop in my palm before washing myself with his scent. I turn off the water before looking around for a towel. I find them in one of the drawers. All white towels, all folded perfectly. I dry off my body before wrapping my hair up in one, and then slipping his shirt over me. It hits me mid-thigh, and I can squeeze in about ten of me. Grabbing my clothes in my hand, I walk over to the door and pull it open. I’m not expecting to find Brady sitting on the bed facing the door, his head down, looking at his hands until he hears me.
Gone are his jeans and his shirt. He’s sitting there in just shorts, his hair wet from a shower. “Hey,” he says when he sees me. The soft light beside his bed is on, and I take in the big four-poster bed. It’s what you would think royalty sleeps in. The covers are a soft white and look like you would be sleeping on a cloud. “Did you find everything?”
I nod, not sure I can say anything. My stomach flutters when he stands, and I take in his big, broad, tanned chest. His abs are perfectly sculpted, and I wonder how soft his skin is. He grabs the clothes from my hand, turns and walks over to the long chest of drawers that match the bed, and places them on top. I have a chance to see his back that also looks like it’s sculpted. If he wasn’t standing right in front of me, I would think I’d created his perfectness in my head. The shorts ride low in the front when he turns back, and I have thoughts of him walking to me naked. I have to look away when I feel my cheeks getting flushed.
He stands in front of me, his big hand going to the side of my neck. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I answer him, and it sounds like I’m panting.
“I was worried the adrenaline would leave you in the middle of the shower, and you’d freak out.” His eyes bore into mine, and all I can do is shake my head.
“Good, get into bed,” he urges, turning and walking to the side of the bed and flipping the covers over.
“This is your bed.” I’m finally able to find the words.
“Yeah.” He smirks at me, making different parts of me quiver. I should have really put my panties back on, but I wanted to wash them, and well, there wasn’t enough time for them to dry.
“I can go sleep with Wyatt.” I point at his door, and this time, he shakes his head.
“I just checked on him, and he’s sleeping,” he replies softly, and my heart melts that he was worried enough to check on him. “He’s had a scary night. Let him rest.”
“If I sleep in your bed, where will you sleep?” I ask, and this time, his grin turns into a smirk, followed by a sly smile.
“In my bed.” He doesn’t even skip a beat. “It’s a big bed.”
“I can see that,” I mumble as he leaves the side of the bed where he flipped the covers back and then walks to the other side, sliding into the bed.
“Get in bed, Harmony,” he orders, and my feet move before my head tells me to follow his directions. “Get in so I can turn the lights off and get some shut-eye.” I look over and see it’s just a little after one in the morning. I have to get up in three hours to bake. I’m just going to rest until he falls asleep, and then I’ll go sleep with Wyatt. Folding my knee under me while I get into the bed, I was wrong about this bed. It’s not like a cloud; it’s like heaven. It literally feels like you are being hugged as you sink into it, the soft sheets smooth against my legs. By the time I put my head on the pillow and look over, I see his back as he leans over to shut the light off.
He turns back into bed, but he doesn’t stay on his side; no, not Brady. Brady is in the middle of the bed, yanking me to him. “Good night, baby,” he says softly, with one hand under my pillow and the other on my stomach. I should just say good night and fall asleep where I am, but I want more. I turn in his arms.
Pressing my chest to his, I tuck my face into his neck and kiss him. “Good night, Brady.” His body locks, and I wonder if I’ve overstepped. “I’m sorry,” I mumble and turn to roll away from him when I’m stopped by his arms tightening around me.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, and I look up at his face in the darkness, wishing the light was still on, so it’s the last thing I see before I fall asleep. Not that I need it. I’ve come to memorize everything that is Brady.
“I just,” I say, “you got stiff when I kissed your neck.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” He presses his hips into me, and I feel his hardness and groan.
“Harmony, baby.” His voice cracks. “I’m holding on by a string.”
“What if I want the string to break?” I ask, and the minute I do, I feel the covers move as I’m pushed to my back, my legs automatically opening for him. His arms go up beside my arms as his hands hold my head. “I want to feel something other than afraid.” My legs move back to hook over his hips. “I want you,” I admit, watching his eyes in the little light the moon is giving out from the three bay windows in the room.
“I want you.” His teeth clench together. “I want you more than I want my next breath, but the first time I get in there is not going to be a night that we remember with your ex in it,” he tells me. “When I fuck you, it’ll be the only thing that happens to you that night. It’ll be the only thing you remember from that night.”
My hand comes up, and my finger trails down his cheek. “Okay, Brady.”
“That said…” He bends his head and kisses me. His tongue comes out and slides on my lower lip. My tongue comes out to meet his. The minute his mouth covers mine, we both sigh. “I need to taste you,” he says, confusing me as if my tongue wasn’t just in his mouth. He trails his kisses to my neck and then one hand moves his shirt up and over my tits. My nipples ache with need as he bends his head and takes one in his mouth. My eyes want to stay open to watch him, but I can’t help when they close, and my back arches off the bed.
“Fuck,” he groans, moving to the other one and doing the same thing. The covers move down as he kisses me all the way down my stomach, and now I know where he’s going.
“Brady,” I whisper, and he looks up at me from where he’s kissing my belly button, “before you go there.” I really wish I didn’t have to say this. “And I’m sure you’re really good at it…” Good God, I want to crawl into a fucking hole and die at this point. “But you should know I usually can’t… you know.”
The smirk on his face says it all. “You trying to tell me you couldn’t come when he went down on you?” he asks me. As much as I’m embarrassed by this, it’s better that it’s now and not an awkward talk after sex when I have to fake it.
“He’s only done it a couple of times and it wasn’t”—my hand comes up to run through his hair—“even during, you know.”
“Sex,” Brady fills in and I nod. “You’re telling me that you used to have sex and not?—”
“It was usually over pretty quickly,” I admit, and he buries his face in my stomach and laughs. “Brady,” I hiss, “this isn’t funny.”
“Oh, yeah, it is, baby.” His laughter leaves his face. “Because you’ve just told me that your ex never took the time to get to know your body.” His nose rubs over my stomach, and it contracts. “He never took the time to find out what you like and what you don’t like.” His tongue comes out as he trails it down from my belly button, toward my trimmed triangle patch that ends right before my pussy. “I’m not him.” All the water in my mouth disappears, and my mouth turns dry. “I’m going to know your body better than you do.” He scoots down a bit lower, his thumbs rubbing up and down on my pussy lips. “No matter how long it takes me.” He winks at me before his thumbs push open my lips.
“Starting right now,” he states before his tongue comes out and he licks me from the bottom all the way up to my clit, the tip of his tongue flicking it. My hips almost shoot off the bed. He gets up on his knees, his hand coming up now to rub where my hair is. “I want you to watch me”—his fingertips feel like feathers—“eat your pussy.” His fingertips move to my stomach. “I want you to watch me finger-fuck you.” His fingers move down between my slit and tease my hole. “I want you to tell me if it feels good.” His fingertips move away, and all I can do is open my legs wider. The need for him to touch me is something I’ve never, ever had before. “I want you to tell me when you don’t like what I’m doing.”
“If it’s anything like this,” I pant out, “I think it’s all good.”
“In this room, or anywhere we fuck, I don’t want you holding back,” he declares, and I shiver, literally shiver. “But tonight”—he bends his head and slides his tongue into me—“you’ll have to muffle your screams.”