Chapter 30 #2
My brother told me if I could just pretend for a little bit, I could get a foot in the door to the music industry.
SiNKroNyze told me if I could just pretend to be country for an album or two, then maybe one day I could try something else.
Glambam told me if I could pretend a while longer, they might maybe talk about letting me push the limits of my genre—and then said if I could pretend to be dating Harmony and double projected record sales, they’d finally give me the creative freedom I’d been asking for from day one as a signed artist. It’s always just a little longer and a little longer and a little longer, with the promise that eventually I can stop pretending.
But now I have to pretend that FM Sound isn’t quietly decimating the woman I love from the inside out? Now I have to stand by and let them force her to stop fighting so she can protect me and Glambam and everything she’s worked for since she was practically still a kid?
Fuck no.
“Harm, please.”
Slowly she stands up and steps back. “I’ve made up my mind.”
I watch her in shock as she numbly shrugs out of her cardigan and drops it on the bed, then continues to undress as she makes her way to the shower, leaving her shirt on the chair by the desk and her jeans on the carpet, unhooking her bra as she gets to the threshold of the bathroom door.
Only in silhouette do I catch sight of her turning on the water and slipping off her panties.
My body doesn’t know how to respond. I clench my fists so hard, even my well-trimmed fingernails bite into my palms. My pulse pounds. For at least three minutes I keep sitting on the bed, not knowing what to do next. Fuming. Aroused. Frustrated.
Finally I get up and take off my shirt and pants and socks, leaving everything in one pile.
While I’m at it, I pick up Harmony’s clothes too but pause when I reach her underwear on the bathroom floor because she’s visible through the glass shower door as she lets the hot water cascade over her.
Almost as if on autopilot, I step out of my own underwear and get in behind her. She doesn’t protest.
The water hits some parts of me but not others, which is fine.
I want Harmony to stay warm. Cautiously, I put my hands on her.
I caress her midsection, not in a sexual way but tenderly, and kiss one of her shoulders.
I keep my erection away from her, not wanting to give her the wrong idea.
Of course I want her, but more than that, I want her to know I’m here for her.
Just like when I approached her at the bar lounge, she doesn’t really react. Her mind is elsewhere, probably spinning at a speed I can’t fathom.
She smells like floral soap. Suds swirl around her feet.
After some time like this, barely moving, she makes a slow turn and stands up tall on her toes and kisses along my jaw.
When she gets to the corner of my mouth, she waits a beat, then kisses me full on with terrifying ferocity.
I kiss her back, unable to stop myself from palming both her breasts when I do.
She drags me all the way under the water and grips my cock, elongating me so fast I can’t see straight.
“Harmony,” I mutter against her lips, “we don’t have to do anything. Really.”
My physical reaction fights me, but I’ve suppressed it plenty of times before; I can do it again.
Loosening her grip, she says, “Do you not want to?”
“I always want to,” I tell her. “But with everything going on, maybe it’s best to just—”
Her tongue in my mouth shuts me right up. And then she motions for me to sit on the marble bench that runs along the shower’s interior while she stands facing me. I’ve got one leg positioned on either side of her while she strokes my length.
“Get on me,” I command in a tone more gruff than I intend.
To my surprise, she turns to face the opposite way and starts to lower herself onto my cock with her back to my chest. I guide her hips until she’s perfectly in place.
Fuuuuuuuck.
The seat is low enough that this actually works.
Our angle is a challenge at first, but we figure it out, and move slowly.
I feel her up with a hungry grasp on every body part, then rub her clit as she slides up and down.
Soon, she comes in a flurry of spasms and I suck on her neck while she rides them out.
I go next, erupting from her glorious force.
I hold her, panting, until she’s ready to clean up, then we wash in silence, get out, dry off, and change into sleeping clothes.
Harmony and I lie facing each other, both of us seeming to wait for the other to say something. Neither of us does.
This might be one of those things, I think, where we have to let the situation breathe.
It’s been a long day, so much has happened.
Hell, we’re still processing our feelings for each other while also prepping for our albums’ release.
Trying to come to terms with a new threat on top of all that is …
too much. We need to sleep on it. Everything will look more manageable in the morning.
The last thing I remember is kissing Harmony’s forehead as her eyelids flutter closed.
When I wake up, Harmony’s side of the bed is empty.
All her things are gone, and so is she.
A cursive note on the hotel paper on the nightstand reads, “I have to do it. I’m sorry.”