Chapter 20 #2
But he’s already tearing them down, a small voice whispered. He built me a nest. He claimed me as his mate. He’s been singing to me.
Maybe the walls weren’t protecting him anymore. Maybe they’d just become a prison.
The tavern loomed ahead, its rough wooden walls and wide porch achingly familiar now. She had spent countless hours here over the past few weeks—eating dinner at the bar, chatting with Nina, watching Ben move through his domain like he owned every inch of it.
Which he did, she supposed. But lately, he’d seemed less like a king surveying his territory and more like a male finally allowing himself to enjoy what he’d built.
She pushed through the front door and was immediately enveloped in the tavern’s warm, comfortable atmosphere. The lunch crowd was light—a few regulars scattered at tables, the low murmur of conversation punctuated by the clink of glasses and the sizzle from the kitchen.
George spotted her from behind the bar and grinned knowingly. “He’s in his office. Door’s open.”
“How did you—”
“You’ve got that look. The ‘I need to have a serious conversation’ look.” George nodded towards the hallway that led to the back. “Go on. He’s been in a weirdly good mood today. Might as well take advantage of it.”
Her feet carried her down the hallway before she could second-guess herself. The door to his office stood ajar, and through the gap she could see him seated behind his desk, frowning at a stack of invoices.
He looked up the moment she appeared in the doorway, just as he always did, as if some part of him was always tracking her location. His frown softened into something warmer, his ears perking forward with interest.
“Sweetheart.” The word was a rumble of pleasure. “I didn’t expect to see you until tonight.”
“The meeting ended early.” She stepped into the office and closed the door behind her, suddenly nervous. “Do you have a minute?”
“For you? Always.” He pushed back from the desk, his chair scraping against the wooden floor, and held out his hand. “Come here.”
She went, because how could she not? His fingers closed around hers, tugging her closer until she was standing between his knees, his hands settling on her hips with that possessive grip that made her stomach flutter.
“You smell like the community center,” he murmured, nosing at her collar. “And…” His grip tightened. “Curiosity. Nervousness. What’s going on?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Ask.”
She took a deep breath. “The band for the festival cancelled. Laryngitis. And we can’t find a replacement on such short notice, so I thought…” She faltered, her courage suddenly deserting her. “Never mind. It’s a stupid idea.”
“Sara,” he said patiently. “What did you think?”
She met those beautiful, impossibly blue eyes that saw through every wall she tried to build. “I thought maybe you could play.”
He went very still.
“Just a set or two,” she continued in a rush. “You don’t have to do the whole thing. But I’ve heard you play, Ben, and you’re incredible, and I know you miss it. I see it in your face when you sing. And I thought maybe… maybe this could be a chance to…”
“To what?”
“To stop hiding.”
The words hung between them, heavy with implication. His expression had gone carefully blank, the mask he wore when he didn’t want anyone to see what he was feeling.
“I don’t hide,” he said finally.
“You do. You hide behind this grumpy tavern-owner persona because it’s easier than admitting you’re a gifted musician who walked away from everything he loved.
” She cupped his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her.
“I’m not asking you to go back to what you were before.
I’m asking if you might want to try being something new. Something that includes the music.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Isn’t it?”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t understand what performing does to me. The adrenaline, the attention, the way it feels to stand in front of a crowd and pour your soul out for their entertainment. It’s addictive. And I spent years destroying myself with that addiction.”
“That was before. You’re different now.”
“Am I?” His voice was painfully uncertain. “How do you know I won’t fall back into old patterns? How do you know one performance won’t lead to another, and another, until I’m right back where I started?”
“Because you have something now that you didn’t have then.” She pressed her forehead to his. “You have roots. A home. A community that loves you. And you have me.”
His breath caught.
“I’m not going anywhere, Ben. No matter what you decide. But I think you’re selling yourself short if you believe you can’t handle this. You’ve proven you can control yourself. Six years of control. Don’t you think you’ve earned the right to trust yourself a little?”
For a long moment, he said nothing. She could feel the tension in his body, the war between desire and fear playing out beneath his skin. She didn’t push. She just held him and let him feel her unwavering belief in him.
“One set,” he said finally.
Her heart leapt. “Really?”
“One set. At the festival. And if it goes badly—”
“It won’t.”
“But if it does—”
“Then we’ll deal with it. Together.” She kissed him softly. “Thank you for trusting me.”
“I trust you with everything.” His arms came around her, pulling her close. “That’s what terrifies me.”
“Good terror or bad terror?”
“Both.” He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply. “Definitely both.”
She smiled against his shoulder, feeling the last of her nervousness dissolve into warmth. He’d said yes. After six years of punishing himself and denying the part of him that needed music like it needed air, he’d said yes.
“I should go tell the committee,” she murmured. “They’ll need to know about the schedule change.”
“In a minute.” His arms tightened around her. “Just… stay. For a minute.”
She stayed, happily nuzzling his neck. He’s going to be magnificent, she thought as he pulled her closer.
“It’s almost a shame you agreed so quickly,” she purred as his hands tightened on her hips.
“Why?”
“I was considering other ways to convince you.”
“What did you have in mind?” he asked, his voice rough.
She pushed him gently back into his chair and knelt in front of him, her hands going to his belt buckle.
“Maybe I could start with this…”
He sucked in a sharp breath. “Sara…”
“Unless you’d rather I stopped?”
“Fuck, no.”
She unbuckled his belt and ran her hand down his stomach, freeing him from his sheath. He seemed even bigger like this, the thick silver shaft glistening against the darker fur of his stomach. She leaned forward and took him into her mouth.
He groaned, his hips bucking involuntarily. “God, Sara. I can’t…”
She swirled her tongue around the sensitive tip, savoring the musky taste of him. He was so responsive, so open in his desire for her. It was intoxicating.
“Don’t stop,” he growled, fisting a hand in her hair.
She had no intention of stopping. She took him deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate his impressive length. He was huge, and the thought of having him inside her sent a wave of heat through her body. She wanted this, wanted him, with an intensity that was almost frightening.
“Look at me.” His voice was rough with desire.
She looked up, meeting his burning blue gaze, and the look in his eyes—possessive, hungry, desperate—sent a jolt of pure lust straight through her.
He was watching her, watching as she took him deeper, as she pleasured him with her mouth, and the knowledge that she was giving him this, that she was the one who could make him lose control like this, was the most powerful aphrodisiac she had ever known.
He came with a guttural cry, spilling himself into her mouth. She swallowed eagerly, her body humming with pure feminine satisfaction at having pleasured her mate so completely.
He was still gasping for breath when she rose to her feet, straddling his lap. His hands immediately went to her hips, holding her steady as she positioned herself over him.
“I want you inside me,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire.
He kissed her, a deep, possessive kiss that tasted of himself and of the wild, untamed desire that had been simmering between them for weeks.
“Always,” he murmured against her lips as he lowered her slowly over his still hard shaft.
Thank god for rabbit stamina, she thought, but then he began to move and her ability to think disappeared.