She’s mine.
And I prove it by taking her mouth in another kiss, pouring into it all the words I’m not ready to voice just yet.
Chapter Five
Amelia
He bought me a ring.
Not some cheap prop to sell the idea that we’re engaged, though it isn’t anything expensive either. He bought it in a rush, but it’s still a beautiful ring with an emerald-cut diamond that sparkles when I put it against the light.
It’s not ostentatious, but it certainly caught the attention of my fellow orchestra members once I started wearing it. I’ve never been spotted with a man before, so of course people would question why I suddenly have a ring on my finger.
But I can’t exactly tell them it’s a fake engagement to help my hot neighbor gain custody of his daughter.
A part of me—the part that has felt the man’s mouth explore every inch of my body for days—doesn’t want to admit that all this is fake. That a man could get a woman an expensive diamond ring and not really mean it. But that is exactly what this is—a lie.
I glance at Hawk’s door and realize I’ve been spending an awful lot of time in his apartment rather than in mine. Instead of spending time rehearsing for the audition, I spend all evening playing for Wren or keeping her and her daddycompany. Sometimes I share dinner and breakfast with them. Then I spend all day thinking about them and smiling to myself. Even Darla’s bullying doesn’t get to me as much as it used to. Not when her insults and glares merely bounce off me. I’ve even started to leave my grandfather’s old violin in Hawk’s apartment rather than mine, so I’ll always have it ready to give Wren a midnight concert.
It seems my entire life has been turned upside down, but I can’t find it in me to complain.
Christ, I can’t tell who I’m trying to fool at this point. The caseworker or myself. Heck, even I am starting to buy into the lie, seeing how I don’t make a pit stop at my own apartment to change but come directly to Hawk’s place.
I raise my hand to knock when the ring catches in the light, sparking like a beacon, and I stop to stare at it.
Five days.
That’s how long this thing between us has been going on. The heavy petting and kissing. The cunnilingus on every surface of the man’s apartment. The world-shattering orgasms. Whenever Wren takes a nap, it’s my turn to be taken care of, and perhaps that would be perfect if only Hawk would let me touch him in return.
The door suddenly opens to reveal the man who’s capable of wiping thoughts from my brain by merely existing.
“Hey there, neighbor,” he says with a wicked grin that sends my heart fluttering in my chest. I despise the heat that climbs up my cheeks. Christ, what am I, twelve? “What are you doing standing out here? I gave you a spare key to the place.”
One that still doesn’t feel right to use.
“I…I guess I just got lost in thought.”
He arches a single dark brow. “What about?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe and tucking his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. My eyes shift from that handsome face to the muscles in those arms. The same arms that held me close last night when we fell asleep on the couch together. “Amelia?”
“I have an audition coming up for the first-chair spot,” I say, brushing hair behind my ear so I have something to do with my fingers. “I guess it has me on edge a bit.”
“Well, I can help you with that,” he says, reaching out and grabbing my waist to tug me against him. That firm chest is pressed against my tits and then his mouth is drawing mine in a slow kiss that sends my toes curling and my sex pulsing with need. My fingers clench on his shirt and I feel the tension in my body fall as desire settles in. I push up for more when a piercing cry tears through the air.
We both pull back with a laugh, and turn to look inside. “I guess you’re not the only one who missed me,” I tease, smiling when he takes my hand and pulls me inside. Wren is in her bassinet crying her little heart out, so I rush to the bathroom to wash my hands before taking her from Hawk, smiling when she calms down in my arms.
“She hates being down for more than a couple minutes,” Hawk says, watching us with a strange look on his face. “You like her.”
“And she likes me too,” I say, giving the newborn my index finger, which she grabs. “Isn’t that right, my adorable little songbird?”
“Songbird?”
“That’s what a wren is. A little songbird,” I say, placing the pacifier between her lips when a thought strikes me. “Wait aminute, what’s up with your family and bird names? First Hawk, and now Wren?”
“Call it a happy coincidence.” He chuckles, and with a shake of his head, starts for the kitchen. “How do you feel about steak for dinner?”
“Love it.”
I follow him into the kitchen and we fall into the easy routine we’ve had these last couple of days. I hold and feed the baby while he makes us dinner, and later we sit in his dining room like a proper family, chatting about nothing and everything as we take turns holding the baby. After dinner, I play the violin for Wren who, depending on her mood, either falls asleep immediately or settles in to listen to the music for a while.
