“Not going well?” he asked quietly, dropping a kiss on her head.
“Mmm,” she mumbled, not looking up. But then she paused, her eyes still glued to her notepad. “Love you.”
He grinned. “Love you, too. Hungry?”
“Mmm,” she repeated, more throatily this time.
“Sandwich?”
She blinked up at him, slow and inviting. “I was thinking…hungry for you.”
His dick pulsed, thickening against his fly. It had been more than a week since they’d had sex, because of Sean, and these new song ideas that were pouring out of her. “Where do you want me?”
She laughed her her breath and glanced toward the stairs. “Will we disturb His Grumpiness if we go upstairs?”
Dean didn’t want Sean hearing them have sex. “I’d ratherhedoesn’t disturbus.”
“Studio it is, then.” She leapt her feet, notepad firmly in one hand as she wiggled the fingers of the other at him. “Come on.”
“Dare I ask what brought this on?” he asked quietly as she led him down the half-flight of stairs and across the family room to the converted sunroom she used as a recording studio. It was insulated to be soundproof, had a fantastic wide couch against the far wall, and a lock on the door.
Perfect.
“I wrote you a song,” she confessed, her cheeks turning pink. “Lyrics, really, although I can hear the bridge in my head.” She hummed a bit, then sang a line of notes, her voice clear and teasing.
He tugged her close as he flipped the lock. “And do I get to hear the lyrics?”
Her eyelashes dusted her cheeks. “Maybe.”
“Do I need to bribe you for them?”
“Yes, please.”
He swept her into his arms, the way they folded together now familiar and comforting. Still thrilling though. He was sure he’d never lose that shiver that went up his spine when she sighed against his skin. Never stop getting hard at the press of her breasts against his chest, the feel of her ass under his palm. He kissed her thoroughly, until she was turned on and moving against him. Then he peeled her out of her clothes and spread her out on the couch before dropping to his knees and dipping his head between her thighs.
His woman. His life.
He might have to be the rock for everyone else, but she was his secret support. Always there to hold his hand and tug him to bed. When he found out about Sean being injured, when it wasn’t clear what had happened or what the outcome would be, he’d cried. And she’d held him. The next day, she’d told him he was her Superman, her hero.
God, he loved her.
And now she’d written him a song.
He licked along the seam of her sex, sliding his tongue against her sensitive nub for just a second before easing away. “What’s the song about?” he asked as he breathed on her most intimate place.
“A hero,” she breathed. “My hero.”
How did she know that had been what he needed, again? He kissed her then, a dirty kiss, a secret just for them. He kissed her until she writhed beneath him, then he reared up and filled her, hard and fast.
— —
An hour later, Dean jogged back upstairs to check on his brother. He found him fast asleep, face down on top of his covers. Some of the happy ease in his chest was pushed out by a now-familiar worry.
In the distance, a gentle knock broke through his thoughts.
He glanced back down the stairs.
Liana was still in her studio.
