The Sweetest Scent Part 12

And she remembered Seattle had been her home, the city of her birth and childhood.

Lacey felt conflicted, so she hid in the bathroom, waiting for everyone to retire for the night before creeping out to her bed-which was in Bro's room. Would he be asleep by now? Lacey sighed, knowing he wouldn't be. And she was tired of talking about it all tonight. Yes, she did want to give Bro some rea.s.surance their relations.h.i.+p would still be....

Only, it wouldn't be, would it?

She didn't know what to do, so she stayed in the bathroom, having already showered and gotten ready for bed. Every time she felt the flow of tears might have dried up, a new well of them began to fall. She was going home-yet she was already home.

G.o.d, what am I going to do?

Rationally, she was well aware she couldn't stay in this room forever.

After turning off the faucet and the lights, Lacey sneaked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom across the hall. The room was dim, the only illumination streaming in through the narrow slivers between the shutters. There was a shape in bed, motionless, and Lacey felt both relieved and disappointed.

In the dark, she found her way to the cot bed between the bigger bed and the closet, far away from the only window. Typically, the two of them would sleep side by side in Bro's bed, but tonight she felt as though there was an insurmountable chasm between the beds, when in reality it couldn't have been more than five inches. Tonight they had to sleep in separate beds because of the distance.

Lacey slipped under the covers, wearing nothing but her tight undies. Normally she had a warm, firm body next to her own, but not tonight. She pulled the covers over her and lay in silence, watching the gray ceiling, where shadows danced whenever a car's headlights brought the shutters alive. She clutched at the thick blanket, a chill expanding throughout her skin, but it had nothing to do with the room temperature. She was missing a piece of her life, but she didn't know how to get it back.

"Lace?"

Bro's voice was barely a whisper in the night, yet it echoed loudly from the walls.

Lacey was out of her bed in a jiffy, and she snuck under Bro's blankets.

This was familiar, she thought when their bodies melded, plastered together tight from head to toes. And then they were kissing. Their hands groped and fondled while their kiss turned downright feral, nibbling teeth, sucking lips, and dueling tongues. Lacey whimpered, her mind emptying and her body filling with heat, pressure, and need. The pa.s.sion present in their grinding bodies was a whole new level of l.u.s.t for Lacey, the want so strong it surpa.s.sed all reason. It was as if they both longed to give increasing amounts of pleasure to the other, like it was their last chance ever to show how much they loved each another.

In the pitch darkness, they had no sight. They had to rely on other senses and on memory to find each other and the places where a mere brush ignited a new flame of desire.

But it didn't matter because Lacey's body knew what it craved.

"Bro, please. I beg of you. Make love to me tonight. Take my virginity."

In mental preparation, she went over all she had learned about that kind of s.e.x, focusing especially on what not to do. She knew now not to use soap as lube, not to scissor fingers inside the a.n.u.s, and not to be shocked by involuntary bodily functions, like pa.s.sing gas, after the deed was done. What she had seen in p.o.r.n and read about in erotica was one thing; what she had learned with Bro was another; and talking to brazen but knowledgeable Audrey had provided the rest.

Busy sucking on Lacey's pulse point and then on her earlobe, Bro took a moment to grasp the demand and another to respond. His head came up, his eyes almost black now with arousal, the blue iris a mere thin ring around the pupil.

"Lace...." Though out of breath, Bro sounded concerned.

She didn't want any of his apprehension. "Please, Bro. I'll be gone soon, and I want it to be you. My first. I need need it to be you." In the quiet of the night, her voice sounded strange even to her, pleading with a whiny quality she didn't recognize in herself. Was she doing this for him, or for her, or for all the wrong reasons? But then again, was it so d.a.m.n wrong for her to wish for the guy she loved to be her first, to claim a piece of Lacey no one else could ever possess? it to be you." In the quiet of the night, her voice sounded strange even to her, pleading with a whiny quality she didn't recognize in herself. Was she doing this for him, or for her, or for all the wrong reasons? But then again, was it so d.a.m.n wrong for her to wish for the guy she loved to be her first, to claim a piece of Lacey no one else could ever possess?

Bro stilled, shaking his head in confusion. Then he took a deep, shuddering breath, and Lacey could sense the mood was broken. "I love you, Lace. More than anything. But this is wrong. I don't want... that that... to be our good-bye." He was talking about a.n.a.l, not s.e.x in general, Lacey knew, and she felt ashamed for pressing. "It should be our beginning, not the end."

Furiously, she tried to extricate herself from under his strong, lean body, but he held her down. Then Lacey was really crying, out-of-control profound s.h.i.+vers ran through her entire being, pus.h.i.+ng a flood of tears. She was shaking, but Bro embraced her tightly, not once letting go. He petted her hair, her skin, her heart.

Right then she realized leaving here here would destroy her. would destroy her.

"Oh, Bro, please. I don't want to go." Her misery came through in palpable waves.

Kissing the wetness of sorrow from her eyelids, cheeks, and lips, Bro nodded. "Then you won't. We'll talk to your aunt tomorrow, and to Jordan and Sebastian. You don't have to go, or do anything you don't want to do, Lace. I swear."

Lacey longed to believe Bro's comfort and rea.s.surance, but she had learned long ago that adults pretended to know better about a lot of things, and they took away a young person's freedom to choose in all the wrong places. It was as if they forgot what it was like to be a teen and to discover things for the first time.

He kissed her lips and deepened it into a maelstrom of mad desire that knew no limits or doubts. She yearned for him with every fiber of her being, so she wrapped her limbs around him and ground against him.

All too soon Bro pulled away-but thankfully only to remove their underwear.

And then, when Lacey was a he he once again, and Bro landed on top of him and pressed tight against him. Bro's hands sought out the curve of Lacey's a.s.s, the firmness of his thighs, the expanse of his back and chest. Lacey did the same, seeking every point of contact available. Their c.o.c.ks, muscles, limbs, and skin rubbed and glided in unison. The heat expanded within Lacey, and he needed to come more than breathe. once again, and Bro landed on top of him and pressed tight against him. Bro's hands sought out the curve of Lacey's a.s.s, the firmness of his thighs, the expanse of his back and chest. Lacey did the same, seeking every point of contact available. Their c.o.c.ks, muscles, limbs, and skin rubbed and glided in unison. The heat expanded within Lacey, and he needed to come more than breathe.

Bro was right there, antic.i.p.ating Lacey as always. He mashed their erections in his hand, and the leaking precome eased the way, though at times their slick c.o.c.ks slipped out of Bro's hold, no matter how firm and relentless the touch. Then he started a fast stroke, his grip so hard Lacey saw stars in his field of vision. His hips bucked of their own accord, needing this connection with his boyfriend, his lover.

And all that time Bro's mouth was fused with Lacey's. No words were needed, and none were offered. They panted, and thrust, and the s.e.x was exhilarating and wild, intense and intimate, demanding total and utter submission from both of them to the desire they shared. Only, it was more love than anything else, a desperate cry not to lose the love they had found in each other.

Before he knew it, Lacey was coming, his b.a.l.l.s drawing up so painfully he felt as if they would get sucked into his body, only to spill out through his slit. Hot liquid splashed on his chest, and then Bro's c.o.c.k twitched and swelled against Lacey's softening d.i.c.k, and a new wave of sticky come landed in thick ropes between them.

Bro fell on top of Lacey, but he didn't care about the extra weight that kept him from getting his bearings or breathing steadily. Lacey wound his arms around his guy's neck to keep him close, and Bro reciprocated immediately. Gradually, their heart rates slowed, and the world stopped spinning, the kaleidoscope muting back to the dull gray of the night.

Stiffly, Bro pulled back to land next to Lacey with a soft thump. "G.o.d almighty, what you do to me." The tone was filled with awe, happiness, and best of all, love.

Lacey smiled, snuggling at his boyfriend's side. "I know exactly exactly what you mean." what you mean."

Limply, Bro rummaged the nightstand in the dark, mumbling something inaudible that sounded an awful lot like cursing, and produced a fresh washcloth. He wiped them both clean of come and tossed the smeared cloth to the floor.

Then Bro surrounded Lacey with his arms once more, and Lacey was in heaven.

Which was good since tomorrow was going to be h.e.l.l.

"GOOD to see you again, Lacey," Mr. Teasdale said with a big relieved smile. "I heard about what happened to you from Detective Waters here. I'm glad you don't mind practicing here today." to see you again, Lacey," Mr. Teasdale said with a big relieved smile. "I heard about what happened to you from Detective Waters here. I'm glad you don't mind practicing here today."

Lacey grasped quickly that Mr. Teasdale had been referring to the incident with her father, not the latest development with her aunt. She smiled, grateful she didn't have to hash out all her business with her violin teacher, too. "Thank you, Mr. Teasdale. I'll be all right. You're sure you you don't mind rehearsing here?" don't mind rehearsing here?"

"Of course not." Mr. Teasdale waved a dismissive hand about. "The loft's acoustics are excellent."

Jordan laid his big, scarred hand over Lacey's shoulder. "I'll make sure we mongrels won't bother you playing too much." With mock irritation, he peered over his shoulder toward the open kitchen of the loft, where Jack, Luke, Kevin, Bro, Bradley, and Audrey were all making their presence known, loudly, as they tried to make breakfast without agreeing to anything, not even what they should be making, let alone by what method.

"It's fine." Lacey giggled. Her eyes veered to Bro, who wholeheartedly joined in the playful arguments with the others, but who had seemed subdued when they woke up this morning. That made her mirth recede. They needed to talk, but she had no idea where to start.

So instead of a bathroom, she found refuge in her music.

"Let's start with arpeggios, Lacey," Mr. Teasdale suggested, though she considered this nothing more than handling the bow to create sounds. Nonetheless, she enjoyed the relaxed familiarity. She smelled the rosin on the strings and the varnish on the wood and inhaled them deeply, letting them fill her lungs and suffuse her very being as a musician.

"Which one?" she asked, no longer focusing on anything but the instrument tucked under her jaw, where the slightly rougher patch of skin always lingered from long hours of contact with her violin.

Mr. Teasdale shrugged. "You decide."

She avoided touching, or even brus.h.i.+ng against, the few strings she had recently replaced, noting casually that they were tighter than the others. She laid the bow down and began to play, starting with E major and moving down to E minor through the descending scales.

"Ah." Mr. Teasdale sounded pleased. "Paganini's Caprice No. 1. Good choice."

Lacey smiled, finding the rhythm of the composition. It wasn't an easy piece by any musician's standards, but for her it was like coming home. Her bow felt like it was flying over the four violin strings, creating sweet chords that warmed her heart and cooled her mind.

"Andante," Mr. Teasdale reminded her when she played the piece too slow, letting it linger. "Don't forget the rhythm. Walking pace." His hands motioned with the correct tempo, and though he wasn't a conductor, she followed his lead.

Vaguely, out of the corner of her eye, she observed how the rest of her family had stopped wrestling in the kitchen and steadied themselves, calming down and stopping to listen to her play. It was a heady feeling to be able to entice a bickering group to fall so very silent. The high-pitched voices of her audience turned to the occasional high-pitched notes of the complex composition as they ricocheted within the instrument and then gushed out in a feverish melody, devilishly hard to emulate.

The piece wasn't long, though, and she was soon finished.

The silence after her performance, however, didn't last long.

"Is it supposed to sound like that?" Jack asked from the kitchen, frowning. "So, um, discordant?"

Mr. Teasdale burst into hearty laughter. "It only sounds like that to the un.o.bserving, to the unknowing ear. And... the majority of violinists cannot play this adequately, and even fewer can play it as masterfully as Paganini himself."

Lacey winked at the man. "That's because he sold his soul to the devil."

"Pft, vicious rumors. As a child Paganini played half the day, every day, that's why." Mr. Teasdale waved a dismissive hand but then studied Lacey with enormous pride. "But you, child? You are by far the best violinist I have ever heard."

Lacey blushed so hard she felt like her cheeks might burst into flames. "Mr. Teasdale...."

He silenced her with a raised hand. "Play Caprice No. 2 and show your family what you're made of."

In her opinion the next piece wasn't as technically difficult as the first, but she obeyed. Starting in B minor, she proceeded through the slower, more romantic beginning toward the harder, more strained use of the bow and fingers. Though only one note sounded per bow drawn across a string, the skill was in making it sound like all the notes joined as one continuous, or even overlapping, resonance.

As the pace quickened, Lacey lost herself in the music, in the sharp, aching melodies she brought out of the tiny instrument, rising toward the highest, fastest peak, the masterpiece part of the composition. Paganini must have been insane to write this, she often thought, totally bats.h.i.+t crazy. The piece may typically have been played moderately, but in her opinion, that was an oversimplification, because the required dexterity alone could drive a violinist mad.

And it didn't help matters that her emotions were all over the place, definitely too stormy for caprices.

In midmovement, she replaced Paganini's caprice with a new song, this time "Smooth Criminal." She heard laughter from the kitchen and saw Mr. Teasdale mock glaring at her, but she didn't care. Lacey had been struck down by her own crescendo, and the melody flowed out of her memory with ease. She preferred the 2Cellos version over the original anyway. It was a fun, though slightly challenging, piece to play. Still, it was nothing like Paganini.

When she ended, everyone applauded, with smiles on their faces.

Lacey beamed. "Thank you." She curtsied, lifting the hem of her dress an inch. It was such a feminine gesture, and she wondered where she had picked it up. Surely she hadn't done a lot of that as a boy.

"Not your usual playing, but fine indeed," Mr. Teasdale complimented.

"Well, in truth I was just trying to avoid doing all twenty-four caprices."

"Careful, or I will make you perform Ravel's Tzigane Tzigane right on the spot," the teacher warned, but his smile belied his harsh words. right on the spot," the teacher warned, but his smile belied his harsh words.

Lacey shuddered. That piece was one of the more difficult violin pieces in the world, and she sure as h.e.l.l wasn't ready to tackle that one. She had practiced Paganini for a long time, wanting to learn the technically challenging pieces, but she knew there was so much else out there. "I'll consider myself forewarned," she retorted amusedly.

"Oh, speaking of which!"

Mr. Teasdale dashed to his valise and pulled out a thick pile of glossy pamphlets. "I got these brochures from the places we discussed last month. The music schools." He handed the first to Lacey, who froze in place but mechanically took the offered papers. "As we expected, the Curtis Inst.i.tute of Music is the best, but there's something to be said about Juilliard and Carnegie Mellon, too, or the New England Conservatory." Mr. Teasdale kept absentmindedly shoving new brochures in Lacey's lap while she was trying to precariously balance the fiddle too. "The worthiest music schools close by would be Was.h.i.+ngton College or the Peabody Conservatory. That is at a manageable distance, if I do say so, but there just don't seem to be any notable options for a violinist of your caliber in the DC area or-"

He stopped abruptly when he noticed Lacey standing rigid in place. She could feel the blood draining from her face, so she must have looked pale, like a ghost. Her skin felt cold and clammy, and she wanted to hide her head in a hole in the ground.

Months ago, before the New Year, Lacey and Mr. Teasdale had spoken about the best music colleges on the eastern seaboard, and he had even helped her with the video auditions. She had focused on this part of the country because of Bro. But this was not how she had planned on discussing it with her boyfriend.

"Oh. Oh. Have I stepped in it again...?" Mr. Teasdale muttered, horrified. It wasn't his fault, really, that Lacey had kept these future career plans to herself. She wasn't ready. "I thought when you auditioned for them.... Oh, goodness, I'm only making it worse."

"It's all right," Lacey rea.s.sured him, though she knew it wasn't.

Mr. Teasdale kept mumbling and s.h.i.+fting the papers in his arms, clearly at a total loss as to what to do now. "I'm so very sorry, my dear," he whispered finally, unable to look at her, and he plopped down on the sofa, limp as a wet noodle.

"When did you audition for these schools?"

Bro's voice sounded distant and detached, and ice ran through Lacey's veins. This was all too much. She was at the end of her rope.

"I meant to tell you, but I just...." She couldn't finish, the lump in her throat blocking the words she needed to say, all of them refusing to come out.

Lacey's eyes misted with unshed tears, but she still found Bro standing in front of her, though not within touching reach. "When I mentioned Howard, that was the time to say something. Instead you made me think there was a chance you'd stay and we'd be-"

A hand on Bro's shoulder stopped him, and he glanced at Sebastian's delicate visage.

"Now is not the time," Sebastian said. His hollow voice had such a curious sound that the musician in Lacey had found it fascinating from the start.

"When, then?" Bro argued back, getting p.i.s.sed now, if the reddening of his cheeks was any indication. And with him, it was alarm bells ringing. "She's gonna be gone next week anyway!" He turned back to her, and Lacey saw the hurt in his eyes. "Guess you made up your mind, then."

He stormed off. The sound of a door slamming echoed in the loft.

By then Lacey was crying. Couldn't he see she had been looking into these places so they could be in nearby cities, a few hours' drive away from one another? Baltimore was an hour away, Philadelphia two to three hours, New York four hours, and Boston seven to eight hours away. Not in another country. They could handle these distances if they tried.

But with everything that had happened lately, maybe cutting their losses was the only sensible thing to do.

Sebastian's arms wound around her, and he stroked her back gently. He whispered in her ear softly, soothing her. Sebastian felt like a big brother to her, and she relished the warmth of affection and sympathy he was offering.

Only... Lacey had blood relations in Seattle.

These people had taken her in, cared for her, and helped heal her. Bro most of all. But were they family?

Deep down in her heart she knew they were, and she would miss them like crazy. All this talk of music schools was moot anyway if the West Coast was going to be her future. She and Bro were supposed to talk today about her not leaving, but if he thought she wasn't going to be around anyway.... Maybe getting angry made it easier for Bro to deal with the impending and inevitable loss.

But Bro wasn't the only one losing here. Lacey wanted to stay. She had felt confident because she'd had Bro at her side. Together they could have convinced their parental-or guardian-units that Lacey's place was here, not in Seattle.

But without Bro, what did Lacey really have here?

She wanted to seek comfort, but she didn't know where to find it.

Then she recognized something else that was keeping her here. And at least this was a problem she could face dead-on, and maybe find some self-confidence and closure, too.

She pulled out of Sebastian's hug and looked at Jordan, whose face was an enigma.

"I want to see my father."