Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
IVY
“If we do this,” he whispers. “It won’t be about Stephen or my ex-wife. Or even the concerto. It will be about you and me.”
“Yes.”
The bed dips where he sets me down, turning his back and rifling through the top drawer of his armoire. When he turns, holding my letter in his hand, his face is warm and bashful.
“Why did you say you burned it?”
“Because I should have,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Because the last thing I needed was to read it again and again. To feel your words haunt me… and to fall for the spaces between the words.” His brows furrow. “To fall for you.”
I blink, chest warming at his words. A dangerous sting behind my eyes.
“You must excuse me,” he whispers, kneeling in front of me. “But I’ve never done anything half-measured.”
He looks away.
I bring my hands up, palming his cheeks and forcing him to look at me. “And neither do I. That’s why I’m here.”
His hand comes up, stroking my upper thigh, his thumb rounding my flesh and rising higher with each pass. “And would you stay even if I never conduct or compose again? Even if I make you fulfill the announcement to a tee?”
“For the mail-order bride? I thought you said only the town thought that?”
“I tried to convince myself of that. But then you showed up on my doorstep.” He smiles darkly, adding after a pause, “Unless you think I should post to Mountain Mates after all?”
A tease that hits too close to home. My face reddens, voice too rough. “Absolutely not.”
“Why not, Ivy?” he murmurs.
“Because… because I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
“Good,” he growls.
Both hands come up, gripping my waist now, and he leans forward, pressing his head into my lap. His fingers run circles into my hips, massaging and awakening me. Leaving trails of fire.
My fingers tangle in his thick, dark hair, running my fingernails across his scalp and down his neck. He lets out a long, satisfied exhale. “I would stay even without you conducting or composing again. Even if you meant the post more literally than you first admitted.”
“Even if it means remaining here? Locked in the woods with me?” He arches an eyebrow, looking up at me with dangerous intent.
“Especially.” My voice comes out smooth, seductive. But inside my body trembles.
He turns his head, kissing up my inner thighs, the heat from his breath awakening the darkest parts of me. His nose slides between my legs, and he breathes me in.
I gasp at the unexpected move. Then, he leans forward, kissing me there. Unravelling me. Making me desperate for clothes to disappear.
“I’m not as experienced as you,” I warn.
He cocks his head with a lazy grin. “What do mean?”
“I’m a virgin.”
The words sit between us for a long moment.
“And you would give that to me?” His voice has a raw edge now.
“Of course. You’re the only man I want to give that to.”
My words hit something deep. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
His gaze flashes to mine, pupils blown. “You’re a world-renowned virtuoso. I can’t expect you to give up the stage for me.”
“So, you researched me after the letter?” I chuckle.
He nods slowly.
“Then you should know you’re the only audience I care about.”
The admission comes out small, though what I feel is anything but.
His eyes darken, face softening.
My voice strengthens. “This is what I want. What I’ve wanted since the first time I saw you conduct, though…” I shake my head, fighting the tremble in my voice. “I never thought it would be anything more than a fantasy.”
“I’m not that man anymore.” He sits back, face clouded. “Broken shoulder. Broken heart. Ruined career.”
Only one part stings. “Broken heart, really? Still?” My pulse stutters.
He grimaces as he thinks for a long moment. When his eyes meet mine, there’s a new lightness in them. “You’re right,” he says simply.
“Right about what?”
“What you said when you first came. That people could change. That I could change like the cadenza.”
Warmth blooms behind my ribs, my eyes blurring. “Yes.”
“But is it enough?”
My hand finds his cheek, fingers sliding through his dark beard. “More than enough. Always.”
His eyes go black now, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Then, you will be the most contented, satisfied woman on this mountain.”
The juncture of my legs throbs now, his hot breath still so close. His promise more than I could ever imagine.
His face is determined as he rises, pushing me back into the bed mattress and hovering over me. His lips find mine again, insistent, sensual, unwinding my desire.
His hand comes up, thumb grazing over my nipple, pebbled through shirt and bra. A deep growl hums through his chest as he presses into me slightly, letting me feel his firm heat against my thigh.
“I’m clean,” he whispers. “And I have condoms.”
“You do?” I ask, pulling back to look at his face. “I’m clean, too. But do we need them?”
“Only if you’re not sure you’re staying.” He tugs possessively at the front of my jeans, and little fireworks go off in my head. His lips feather across mine, then follow my jawline and the curve of my neck down to my collarbone.
“I’m staying.”
“Good.”
His head vanishes beneath my shirt. I gasp as he clamps onto a nipple, rolling his tongue over it, then circling.
“Oh, God.”
His other hand thumbs open my jeans. I hear the slide of the zipper, my body trembling beneath him. His mouth still works, sucking and nipping, teasing me through satin and lace.
My hips lift off the bed when he slips beneath the waistband of my panties. His finger dips into me, and his breath shudders against my nipple. “So wet.”
“Is that okay?” I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut and focusing on his mouth and fingers.
“God, yes,” he gasps, thumb sliding up to stroke my clit, slick with arousal.
“I’ve dreamt of this… for so long,” I confess. “Dreamt of you.”
He pulls his head free, eyeing me. “Why?”
“Because your concerto didn’t just speak to me. It made me…”
He stops. “Yes, Ivy?”
“It made me fall for you.”
I expect shock. Maybe some speech about why music alone couldn’t do this. But instead, his eyes meet mine with passion, finger working me slowly now. Going right to the spot where I need him.
I grip the comforter, muscles tightening in my legs and lower core. “That feels amazing.”
“Good.” Then he pulls his hand free, licking his glistening finger. Watching me watch him until I feel like I’ll explode.
Reed teases my pants and panties onto the floor, then spreads my legs sliding between them. He buries his nose in me again, inhaling. “You smell so good.” His voice is low and naughty.
The first swipe of his tongue, and my eyes roll back into my head. I bury my hand in his hair, pressing him against me, needy. His finger strokes me again as his tongue laps and circles me. The world around us fades into heat and breath.
“I’m going to come,” I whisper into the silence of the bedroom, and he strokes me more insistently, adding a second, dextrous finger. The stretch is too much, but I need it as I feel myself climbing, floating free.
He clamps onto my pearl, sucking and strumming me with his tongue, and the world explodes. Heat gushes, and he moans, licking and working me through it.
Afterward, beard still wet, he lifts dark bedroom eyes toward me, his face filled with awe.
“What?” I pant.
“Your body. The way you responded to me.”
I knit my forehead. “Was it wrong?”
“No,” he whispers, throat tight, running a hand over his beard. “It was perfect… Like you want me.”
“Because I do.”
The mountain no longer feels temporary. Reed’s music is in my veins.