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“Lydia,” he says, placing a finger beneath my jaw and lifting, “your laughter is the most beautiful sound I’ve heard in my entire life. It does things to me … things that I can’t explain. At least, not in words. So instead, I recorded you over time, bits and pieces here and there. And then I crafted the sound into piano notes.” He stops, pointing to a specific point in the music. “Here, the melody rises and falls where the sound of your laughter does, the tempo matching the rhythm of your breaths between notes.” His gaze lifts to mine. “I thought that if I couldn’t explain the sound in words, then maybe I could show you this way. This way, you can hear yourself the way that I do.” He pauses, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “I-I don’t know. It sounds ridiculous now that I say it out loud.”

“Callum Thorne,” I say, stunned as the tears begin to fall, unguarded and carefree. “This is hands down the most romantic gift I think anyone in the entire universe has ever thought of.”

He drops his hands, his brows lifting as he looks at me. “You really think so? You … like it?” he asks, almost boyish.

“Sunshine,” I say, cupping his cheek. “I love it. I love you. It’s perfect. Wait … do you play piano?”

“I … dabble, yes. Though I’m not all that great,” he says, wiping away the tears streaming down my cheeks.

“Will you play it for me someday?” I ask, eager.

“For you? Anything,” he says, pressing his lips softly to mine. “But first, open this. It kind of goes along with the first one.”

He hands me the box as I arch a brow at him, amazed that he did all of this for me. I brush my fingers over the small blue velvet box, opening it up slowly. My eyes widen at the small gold bracelet sitting in the center of a cushioned pillow. I run the pad of my thumb over a small waveform etched in the center of the charm, the realization rendering me breathless.

“It’s … me,” I say. I search his eyes for confirmation, noticing the exact moment they soften around the edges.

“It’s you,” he confirms, nodding. “The sound that I fell in love with far before I admitted it to myself.”

“Callum, I love you so much,” I say, setting down the box and climbing into his lap.

“I love you more than anything,” he says, gripping my ass and tugging me against him. He grips the bottom of my dress, tugging it off and tossing it to the floor, his eyes darkening once he spots me bare beneath it.

“Such a dirty girl,” he growls, lifting me off of him to remove his own clothing. Once we’re both bare and panting, he drags his gaze down my body—eliciting something deep within my core until it feels like I’ll burn alive.

“Come here,” he says, tugging me against him and spinning until my back is to his front.

His hands drop to my waist, pushing me forward until I collide with the wall. He catches my wrists, lifting them over my head and pinning them against the wall before me. My skin tingles everywhere his fingers brush against me as they trace the contours of my body, over the curve of my hips, wrapping around to meet my inner thighs. I instinctively part my legs farther, using the wall for support as I push my hips back to meet his growing erection. One of his hands dips between my legs, two fingers pushing into me as his other hand comes up and encircles my throat. He squeezes, and I arch back into him as he drives his fingers in and out of me with precision.

“Yes, Callum,” I pant. “That feels … so … good.”

“You’re so fucking wet, love,” he says, turning his wrist inward and then lifting me from the ground by the hand that’s still inside of me. I gasp, the sound coming out far more sinful than I intended. This angle, the pressure, the way he’s holding me up like this is all so intense.

Walking me over to his drum set, he takes a seat at the large, stationary chair behind it. Releasing my throat, he runs his hand down my body, pushing my thighs and draping them over his own until I’m spread out on top of him—my back to his front. He pulls his fingers from inside me, and I whimper shamelessly at the loss of them. He reaches forward, grabbing a drumstick from a newly opened box, my eyes widening as he begins to run the stick down the front of my body.

“Fuck,” he groans. “The way I’ve imagined doing this to you for so goddamn long.”

The end of the stick nudges my clit, circling around and around until I’m arching against him and panting. He chuckles, dragging the stick lower and lower until it dips inside my pussy, coating it in my arousal before dragging it back upward. Biting my lower lip, I drop my gaze to watch as he continues to swirl the stick over my clit, now wet as it glides over me effortlessly.

It’s so damn hot, and I know I won’t last long.

“Come for me, love,” he murmurs. “Come all over my drumstick.”

His words send me stumbling into an electrifying orgasm as I tremble, moaning his name while I ride out the extent of my pleasure on his drumstick. This whole scenario is scratching an itch that I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t fantasized about a time or two. And once I finally fall, he’s right there to catch me like always.

“You’re such a good girl for me, love,” he pants, dropping the stick and spinning me around to face him.

I straddle him, rocking back and forth over the thick swell of his length beneath me. I grab his hair in my hands, tugging to give me access to his neck. Dropping my mouth to his skin, I suck and then bite down hard.

“Fuck,” he groans. “Yes, give me more.”

I bite down harder, laying claim to his skin like a feral feline. He drops his hand beneath us, lining himself up to my entrance. Before he has time to thrust himself even an inch upward, I drop down and take what’s mine.

“So … fucking … needy,” he pants, tugging my head back to gain access to my skin now.

He sucks and bites while I ride him ruthlessly, taking exactly what I want from him as the friction builds until the air itself feels charged. He grabs my face, bringing my mouth to his to seal the moment. The kiss is anything but gentle as his tongue pushes in to claim what he seeks, his breath uneven against my lips. His hips thrust to meet my rhythm until we’re both close, neither giving in until the very last second. We’re synchronized, chasing the same inevitable edge, the same cataclysmic fall.

When the earth retreats beneath us, we collapse together in the aftermath. We remain there, tangled and breathless as the moment stretches on for an eternity, until sleep claims me whole.