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Wide eyed, she nods, but looks jealous.
“What? Um, did I do something wrong?” I ask.
“Atlas doesn’t let anyone touch his keyboard, is all. I’m just surprised,” she mutters.
I glare at Atlas because it’s obvious he’s being an ass to my sister. He holds up his hands as if asking for space, but I’m almost done giving it to them. Even though I just used his keyboard to play, a pitch check is what threw my sister.
Their shit is starting to upset me, and as Derek said, I’m stabby now that I’m pregnant.
“Stop being a dick to my sister, Atlas. Lay, honey, I take over his keyboard a lot. It’s how it’s easiest for me to write songs once I have lyrics running through my head,” I explain and she nods. “Ready?”
I glance around the room, and Mav and Turner wink at me on opposite sides of the room.
Nodding, Turner starts the intro, and then we’re off and rolling. Layla is tentative at first and I squeeze her hand in support, asking for more, wordlessly.
Each word gets stronger, the emotion thick as we sing together. As the last note fades away, Layla brushes her own tears from her eyes. “Lennon, this song is fucking amazing,” she whispers.
“So you’ll sing it with me?” I tease her.
“Yeah, I will. I didn’t think I could, but I think we sounded really good together,” she admits.
Derek turns the phone towards us, replaying the song, and everyone crowds around us. We really do sound amazing, and while it doesn’t usually take long to polish up a song once we get going, this is phenomenal.
Uncle Jordan steps back, clearing his throat of the emotion clogging it. “I’m going to bug Greg and Link to find out how quickly we can get a recording studio in here,” he mutters, and I giggle as I look around at my band.
“I think you’ll fit in fine, Layla,” I tell her, hugging her to me.
We spend the next hour working on the song, and practicing songs we already have as well. It’s relaxed, fun, and it keeps my mind off of actually performing.
Roark pushes food casually at me, and I take the hint, because singing really does take a lot of energy. As we break for the day, and I start to follow everyone upstairs, Turner stops me.
Waiting as everyone continues, he whispers harshly in my ear, “I wonder what you’ll write while sitting on my cock.” I shiver, remembering other times we’ve played this game. “Do you want to write a song with me tonight while I edge you until you can be a very good girl for me?”
I gasp, nodding.
“Words, pretty little slut. Give them to me,” he insists.
Whimpering, I turn my head, and he evades my lips. “Yes, I want to be your good girl, writhing until I can sing you pretty words,” I rasp, desperately needing him.
Grabbing my throat, he leans over me to kiss me hard. “I love you. Your words, courage, and determination are incredible,” he whispers against my lips.
Fuck, I’m about to swoon. This man has always understood me so well.
“I love you too,” I tell him with a small smile.
“Let’s get you food before your therapy session. You’re having one, right?” he asks as he starts to move me towards the stairs.
“Yes, and I’m officially starving now,” I groan. My stomach rumbles even though I snacked through our jam session.
Turner throws me over his shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time as I shriek and wrap my arms around his waist, even though I know he’d never drop me.
34
GREG
I’m standing in Lennon’s soon to be library and panic room, frowning as I work through ideas with Link on what we can do. Lennon’s at Bear’s club right now, and everyone else is up to different projects.
I asked them to leave for the day so we could start on our own plans for this house. I have this driving need to keep Lennon safe from Xav, and it feels like a noose is tightening around us. This has to fucking end soon.
