Twenty-Five
I grimace, hating that I never told her, and drop my head with a sigh.
“Who told you?” I ask.
“The Dean.”
I frown as I lift my head and meet her eyes again.
“What was he doing in your office?”
I can’t help the small bolt of jealousy that slices through me at the thought of him having a personal conversation with Sadie, even if it was about me.
“Several people have noticed your effect on me,” she says as gently as she can. “And I’ve been more than delighted to tell them how happy we are. But I had no idea you stopped teaching a class because of Bianca. And why you didn’t tell me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I just…didn’t know how to explain that I want to teach it again but I’m not ready.”
“Why not?” she asks with a furrowed brow. “You’re doing so well, I thought you’d be ready to share with your students again.”
“I am ,” I say firmly. “But not yet.”
“Is it…because of me?”
The fear in her eyes kills me. So, I do my best to make her understand.
“I’ve always been willing to share my songwriting process with my students,” I tell her softly. “But the process I share with you is very special to me, not to mention intimate. And I just don’t know how to share that with anyone else without keeping it sacred between us. Right now, it’s something I need to keep between us for just a little longer.”
The understanding that washes over her beautiful features is a sight to behold. Then she gasps and covers her mouth.
“Shit, Brock,” she chokes out. “I told Bianca about it. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be,” I say as I pull her against me. “Considering why you did, I didn’t mind.”
“But what if she tells other people?”
“Would you tell anyone else if the situation was reversed?”
When she pulls back, the devilish glint in her eyes is all the answer I need.
“No,” she breathes. “I get it now. And I’m sorry I was upset.”
“I’m sorry I felt like I couldn’t tell you, too,” I sigh. “I don’t want to talk about her anymore.”
“Fine by me.”
With that, I pack up my things and we head home for another weekend together. Friday, we spend in. Saturday afternoon passes with me tweaking my second song. And Saturday night we go out to dinner with my parents and little sister. Sadie’s meeting with them went as well as my meeting her parents.
When our third week together rolls around, I’m feeling very confident about my next song submission. On Wednesday afternoon, all the finalists get an email regarding how we’re going to submit them. Turns out, we’re going to perform them live at the theatre that houses Composing Resolutions, the charity founded by the married couple of the band.
“Holy shit,” I breathe as I read.
Given we’re working with professionals, they’ll accept our sheet music no later than Friday at noon so they can run through things before we each get a chance to sing for them on Saturday. I’m delighted for the opportunity and can’t wait for it to happen. Needless to say, this may give me a leg up on the competition. Something that I know for certain when John is in my office in the next ten minutes fretting about what to do. I talk him off the ledge and let him run through his song with me a few times before he decides to play the guitar when he sings.
“It doesn’t say you have to play an instrument when you perform,” I point out.
“Roll With It are legitimate,” he says. “They all play something, and Chase and Eli play fucking everything. I want them to see that I can do more than just sing.”
“Fair point,” I smile. “Why don’t you run through it one more time?”
He does and I do what I can on my acoustic guitar to emulate the lead guitar licks he’s written. When we finish this time, he asks me one more thing.
“Would you take the piano part for my song, Dr. Rush?” he asks. “I really think I’d do better if you were on the stage with me.”
“As long as it doesn’t break any rules, I’d love to.”
And with that, we give it one more run through with him on guitar and me on the keys. He asks if he can come in on Friday afternoon for one more practice and I agree. He leaves just as Sadie arrives. When I pull her against me for a kiss, she molds herself against me and hums her delight.
“Everything okay?” she asks
“Perfect,” I tell her. “I’ll explain over dinner.”
When we get home, I tell her about the finalists performing our submission live in front of Roll With It on Saturday. Her smile gives away her delights, especially when I ask her to be there with me.
“Of course, I will be,” she says softly. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
I thank her for her support. With a kiss. And then with several orgasms after dinner. Thursday and Friday seem to fly by as the excitement of Saturday looms. Sadie sits in while I rehearse with John and wishes him luck, too. At Sadie’s insistence, we go out for a quiet, intimate dinner that night. When we get home, she asks for another fantasy.
“Tonight, I want to take care of you, Brock,” she breathes. “I just want you to relax and let me love you.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I whisper.
“I know,” she smiles. “But I want to. Because tomorrow is an important day for you. I want you relaxed as possible.”
As difficult as it is, I agree. Never before have I taken a passive role in the bedroom. But with Sadie, it’s truly anything but. Even though she keeps me underneath her for the better part of an hour, I’m blown away by her fearlessness and the number of ways she brings us together.
And I do fall asleep more relaxed than ever.