Chapter Twenty-Three
Jonathan
I flop back on Gabby’s bed when we get to her room after dinner, dessert—an almost sinful apple crisp—and more talking. Marissa and Peter eventually left, and I pled jet lag, but I really just wanted some time alone with Gabby.
Holding my hand out to her, I beckon her to me. “Come here. I need to hold you.”
She smiles, climbing onto the bed with me and fitting herself against my side, one leg sliding between mine, her head pillowed on my shoulder, her hand moving across my chest, our feet dangling off the end of the bed. I wrap my arm around her, drop a kiss on her head, and let out a sigh. With my eyes closed, I soak her in. Her scent. The feel of her body against mine, even if we’re both fully clothed still. I have plans to rectify that soon. But right now I’m happy to be here with her.
“So your dad’s always that intense, huh?”
Her hand leaves my chest, and I open my eyes to see her covering her face. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Yeah, he kinda is. He didn’t give Abby an interrogation like that when she came the first time or anything, but you heard how he put her suitcase in the guest room instead of Lance’s that first Christmas. Lance was furious and threatened to go stay in a hotel if Dad was going to be like that.” She pulls her hand down to look at me. “Mind you, they were living together by then too. So it’s not like they didn’t sleep together every night anyway. I don’t know what his deal is. I think he’s in denial that all his kids are grown up or something. And he doesn’t handle it well.”
I grunt, and lay my head back again. “Well, at least he seemed to come around. I’m glad your brother was there to deflect some. I think that helped.”
“Yeah. Probably. He and Lance have been butting heads for as long as I can remember. They’re a lot alike, really. They just have different ideas about how Lance should live his life. Actually, that’s kind of his problem with you too. He wasn’t happy I decided to go to Marycliff, and now here’s this guy swooping in and stealing me away. Making it so that the chances of me coming back here are slim to none.”
Glancing at her, I raise an eyebrow. “Was there a good chance of you coming back after graduation anyway?”
She snorts. “Probably not. But I wasn’t going to tell him that before I had to. You think I’m crazy? I saw how he and Lance were when I was growing up. I didn’t need that kind of tension before it was necessary.”
My hand starts running through her hair, and she closes her eyes at the gesture, a little smile gracing her lips. “And now you have it your sophomore year.”
Her eyes slide open. “You made it necessary sooner than I’d planned. But it would’ve happened one way or another anyway. The odds of me landing a spot with either the Fort Worth or Dallas symphonies are small. They’d have to be auditioning at the same time I was looking to win a spot, and then I’d have to actually win the audition over all the other people going for it.”
I open my mouth to protest that that’s not impossible, but she shakes her head before I can get it out. “I know what you’re going to say. And I’m not saying I’d never be able to win a spot anywhere ever. Just that the odds at any one audition are never good. So the likelihood is that when I get to that point, I’ll end up somewhere else. Who you know doesn’t even matter that much for winning auditions. It can help you find out about them, but that’s it. They’re blind. Behind a screen. No one on the audition committee knows who you are. I went out for the Spokane Symphony’s sub list, and it was crazy. Intimidating to not see the people listening to you. But also cool. It’s all about how you play and that’s it. How you look, who you know, whether you’re a guy or a girl—none of that matters.”
My mouth drops open, and I sit up at that news. “What? Why didn’t you tell me about that?”
Sitting up too, she shrugs. “I don’t know. It was kind of a lark. Lauren and I did it together. Julia told us about it and gave us the orchestral excerpts. I played the Bruch from last year for my concerto.”
“What happened? And what’s a sub list? I demand information immediately. I had no idea you’ve been holding out on me.”
She laughs, climbing onto my lap and kissing the frown off my face. “I’m sorry. I don’t tell you about everything at school.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because most of it’s boring.”
“This isn’t,” I point out, still miffed.
The laughter drains from her eyes, though the smile still tips up her lips. “I wasn’t keeping it from you on purpose. I just didn’t think about it. I don’t tell you all the pieces I’m working on all the time. I never have.”
“That’s because I usually get to hear them. I haven’t this semester.”
She nods, her gaze abstract. “That’s true. I hadn’t thought of that.” Her eyes focus on me again. “Do you really want to know that stuff?”
My arms slide around her back, holding her against me. “Of course. I want to know everything. Why wouldn’t I?”
She shrugs. “I guess I’m not used to people being interested who aren’t violinists. Like, Lauren and I talk about what we’re playing, but that’s because we have the same teacher. But I’ve never told my family or other friends about what I do in lessons, because most of them don’t know enough to understand what I’m going on about. Or, well, I used to talk about it all the time, but I taught myself to be more general because people glaze over more when I get too detailed.”
The troubled frown is back on my face. I don’t like the thought of her holding back like that. I like when she gets excited about something she’s working on and can’t help but talk about it. I love that she’s passionate about music. And if she starts talking about something I don’t understand or I’m not familiar with, I either ask her to explain, or look it up when I have the chance.
Cupping her cheeks, I place a gentle kiss on her lips. “I always want to know what you’re working on. I love hearing you talk about it, watching you play, listening to you get better. You’re amazing. And I never glaze over when you talk about something you’re passionate about.”
“Okay.” Her voice is soft, accepting. “I really wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. Just more music to work on. I went to the audition. It was crazy. And I would’ve talked to you about it, but it was when you were in the middle of three shows in three nights in three cities, and we barely talked that week.” A twinkle of mischief enters her eyes and she starts to smile again. “And when we did, it was mostly phone sex. I got distracted by your descriptions of all the things you’d do to me if we were together and forgot to mention it.” She shakes her head, her gaze growing serious again. “But no. I didn’t get on the sub list. Which is who they call to fill in the section if people are sick or can’t make a concert for some reason. The whole setup kind of freaked me out, and my nerves got the best of me. It wasn’t my best performance.”
“I’m sorry. I wish you would’ve told me so I could console you.”
She smiles again. “Oh, you did a fine job of distracting me that night. It was better than talking about it more, which I’d already done at length with both Lauren and Clara.
I let out a low chuckle. “Well, good. I’m glad I made you feel better, even if I didn’t realize I was doing it at the time.”
“You always make me feel better.” She grinds down on me, and like that I go from half mast to fully hard. My hands release her cheeks and drift down her back, gripping her hips, but only to guide her how I want to feel her, not to stop her.
She brings her mouth close to mine, but I speak before she can kiss me. “Please tell me you’re okay with fooling around in your parents’ house. I don’t think I can take staying here for a week without touching you.”
Her breath fans over my face as she chuckles. “Their bedroom is on the opposite end of the hall, next to the guest room. As long as you don’t get too loud, we should be fine.”
She lets out a gasp as I flip us over so she’s under me. “Ha. I’m more concerned about your volume level than mine. Can you keep quiet?”
Her eyes are bright with laughter and lust. “I’ll do my best. But I won’t survive staying here for a week without you touching me either.”
That’s all the permission I need to strip her of her clothes and shed my own. When I spread her legs and slide two fingers inside, she’s already slick and ready for me. She gasps, arching into my hand.
When I move to go down on her, she shakes her head, her hands on my shoulder urging me back up her body. “Not this time. I need you inside me right now. You can do that later if you want.”
“How can I say no to that?” With a swift, hard kiss, I dig through my pants for my wallet to retrieve the condom I stashed there. Rolling it on, I position myself at her entrance and sink inside in one long, slow stroke.
She lifts her hips to meet mine, pressing her feet into the bed, her hands reaching for me, pulling my face to hers. “Kiss me.”
I do. Setting a slow, steady rhythm, I rock into her, reminding her how much I love her with the way our bodies come together.
It’s been too long since I’ve been inside her, and no matter how I slow myself down or try to hold back, I can’t hold off long enough to get her there. Not without more foreplay. I try, though. Gritting my teeth, closing my eyes, pulling back from our kiss.
But she rocks her hips up to meet mine, squeezing around me, and I can’t. My control breaks, my hips lose their rhythm, and warmth spreads through me as I empty myself inside her.
She wraps her arms around me, bringing me close for another kiss as I rest on her for a moment. But I know she didn’t finish. Wasn’t even really that close. There were a few gasps and sighs, but no chanting of my name or “Oh my God.”
Pulling back, I find a tissue to dispose of the condom, then join her on the bed again. But instead of snuggling, like she clearly expects, I prop myself over her, dropping kisses on her mouth, down her jaw, biting gently on her ear as my fingers caress and tweak her nipples.
“You have to be crazy if you think I’m going to leave you hanging,” I whisper in her ear.
She turns her big brown eyes to me, her pink, swollen lips curving in a smile. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do,” I scoff. “I love making you come, watching you lose control, knowing that I’m the one doing that to you. Watching you do it for yourself on video chat is hot, but I much prefer seeing your eyes glaze over and hearing your cries of pleasure in person. Causing them directly.” By now I’ve made my way to the slick spot between her thighs, running my fingers over her mound, teasing her opening, brushing against her clit.
Her legs open wider, her eyes take on that glazed quality again, and she lets out a low moan. I smile against her skin, nipping gently at her shoulder, then kissing there. Teasing her still, I wait for her arousal to build. When she presses her hips up into my hand, seeking more contact, more friction, I slide two fingers all the way inside.
“Oh my God,” she says, her voice breathy and restrained like she’s trying not to shout.
I let my palm grind into her clit. When she covers her mouth with her hand, I slow my touch until she takes it off to look at me. Then I cover her mouth with mine, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, picking up the pace with my hand again. Her hands move between us, onto her chest, and I know she’s pinching and tweaking her own nipples, adding more stimulation to get her over the edge.
Swallowing down her groans as she comes is one of the most erotic experiences of my life. As her muscles relax, I gentle my touch and my kiss. Finally pulling back to look into her eyes, now dazed with sated pleasure. “I love you,” I whisper, and give her another soft kiss.
“I love you too.”
Now I lie down next to her, fitting her body against mine again, enjoying the softness of her skin. A sigh of contentment escapes me. This—always this—is what I crave when we’re apart. This feeling of closeness, intimacy, belonging. That only exists with her.
“You know,” I say, speaking my thoughts aloud as they enter my brain. “I could be happy and feel at home anywhere in the world as long as I’m with you.”
She presses a kiss to my pec, running her hand over my chest and down my stomach. “Me too.”
I flex my abs under her hand, making my six pack stand in relief, though nowhere near as cut as I was over the summer, and she giggles in response. Then she lets out a sigh. “I like you better this way. I mean, don’t get me wrong, those pictures of you shirtless when your body fat was super low over the summer are hot. But cuddling with you when you don’t have an ounce of cushion on you isn’t as comfortable. This is nice. I still get the mega hot superstar boyfriend, and I get cuddles.”
With a laugh, I kiss her forehead and relax. “What else haven’t you told me while we’ve been apart?”
She huffs out a breath. “You make it sound like I’m keeping secrets.”
I raise an eyebrow in response and look down at her.
Pursing her lips, she shakes her head. “It’s not like that, and you know it. I’m sure things have happened on tour that you haven’t bothered telling me about. Or you’ve gotten distracted once we got on the phone and forgotten. Or just things that you’d rather forget, so you don’t bring them up.”
I give a grunt in response, not wanting to admit that she’s right, but unwilling to lie.
She laughs at me. “Mmmhmm. Exactly. Anyway …” Her fingers trail up and down my sternum as she thinks about what to tell me, just firm enough not to tickle. “I told you Dr. Paulsen complimented me about my sonata, right?”
“Yeah. And that you should take some of the composition track classes next year.”
“Right.”
“Are you going to?”
Her hand stills, and she lifts her eyes to mine. “Maybe. I haven’t looked that far ahead. I’m just trying to get through one semester at a time right now. I mean, they made us do a degree plan last year in my first semester, but I’ve mostly just taken what my advisor has told me to take to keep me on track for the general education requirements that fit best around the required music classes. There’s not much wiggle room with the theory classes the first two years.” She lets out a sigh, her gaze going back to the movements of her hand. “I guess I should look at that soon, though. I’ll have to register for fall semester midway through this next one.” She pauses, and her brows draw together. “What else do you want to know?”
“What are you working on now? More Bach?”
“Yeah. And Paganini.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember you telling me about that.”
“Yeah. I got a new caprice to work on. And I’m doing the whole Mendelssohn concerto, not just the first movement. The second movement is this soft, beautiful piece. It’s not as flashy as the first or last movements, but it’s so lyrical and kind of sad. It has a double stop section in the middle.” She looks at me again. “You know, where I play on two strings at once. It’s a beast. But so pretty when done well.”
“I’m sure you’ll kill it. You’ve been hammering the Bach and the scales that you play like that.”
One corner of her mouth lifts. “It’s all finger choreography. Well, there’s managing the bow too, of course, but right now, it’s getting my fingers to move like they’re supposed to. I haven’t been working on it long.”
I nod, smiling. “Finger choreography. I like that. I have to do the same thing when I learn a new song. Make sure my fingers know how to move between chords, get it in my muscle memory. It is like choreography, though. I’ve never thought about it like that. You’ll have to play it for me later.”
She lets out a laugh. “Right.”
“You know I like listening to you practice.”
“You do. Crazy man.” She shakes her head in mock dismay.
“Have you been composing anything for fun? I know you had to do those assignments for your theory class, which I still think is cool, by the way. But anything for you? Have you done anything with that melody you started writing over the summer?”
She turns her head down so all I can see is her hair, hiding her face from me. “Um, no. I haven’t done anything with that.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “I have been playing with some stuff. Um, your stuff, actually.”
“What do you mean?”
Her free shoulder lifts, but she still refuses to look at me. “Just, nothing really. I bought your album—“
“What? I would’ve just sent it to you if you’d asked.”
“I know. But I wanted to buy it. Support you that way.”
As though I weren’t completely gone on this girl, she does something like that, and I fall in love with her all over again.
“Anyway, when I miss you, I put in my earbuds and turn on your music and play along. First I just started playing the melody. But then I started hearing these harmonies and countermelodies, so I’ve been messing around with that.”
I can’t stand that she won’t look at me, so I sit up, gently turning her to face me. “You’ve been playing countermelodies with my songs?”
She nods, her eyes still downcast, even though I can see her face now.
“Will you play them for me?”
Her eyes finally meet mine. “Now?”
Part of me wants to say yes. But I don’t want to stop cuddling with her yet. “No. Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. This week at least. Will you? I want to hear what you’ve done.”
She nods. “Okay.”