Noah returned to the bed, sliding between my legs. His cock was hard against my thigh, nudging at my entrance.

He met my eyes as he slowly pushed inside me, his weeping cockhead parting my folds.

I moaned, low and long, as he entered me, inch by inch, slow enough to drive me crazy. My eyes fluttered shut and my head hit the mattress. He continue pressing himself inside me as he peppered my lips, cheeks and chin with kisses, gentle enough to bring tears to my eyes.

He finally bottomed out and stilled his hips. My inner walls fluttered around him, throbbing in time with my pulse. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and buried my face in his neck. I tilted my hips up, encouraging him to move. He slid out of me and moaned softly as he pushed back in.

He fucked me so gently - no. He made love to me. I shuddered at the slow pace, deliberate and thorough. I clung to him as our bodies rocked as one, our hips joining and parting then coming back together.

Soon the pressure began to build inside me again, but it wasn't enough. I need more.

I pulled Noah's head down for a blistering kiss, our tongues battling each other.

"I need you to fuck me," I gasped into his mouth.

"Isn't that what I'm doing?" he murmured with a slight smirk.

I whined and scratched at his back with my nails. "I need it harder. Faster."

His eyes glinted with a dark heat. "You sure?"

I nodded enthusiastically. With two hands on my hips he shifted me down and turned me over on my stomach until I was bent over the side of the bed, my ass up. He pressed up against me. He was right at my entrance, his blunt cockhead nested between my folds.

"You wanted it hard and fast?"

I nodded shakily, grasping at the bedsheets.

"I'm going to give you exactly what you need," he growled in my ear. "Gonna fuck this tight cunt of yours until you break."

"God yes," I moaned. "Break me."

He shoved himself inside, warm and hard and big. I gasped out loud as he entered me, then moaned as he withdrew. His cock was so huge, already. It felt even bigger in this position, me on my stomach, my back arched, my ass in the air.

He didn't go slow. He gave me exactly what I'd asked for. He pounded into me, pummeling me with hard, fast stroke, his cock beating a path inside me. I moaned in delight as the fat head of his cock stretched my entrance with every push and pull. I felt myself flutter and pulse around him.

He grabbed my ass and tilted my hips up, slamming inside again. My eyes flew open and I choked out a cry as he went deep, so deep, deeper than I thought he'd ever gone before. He drove his cock home, all the way to my very core.

I was overcome with the sensation of being filled, of being fucked. I was about to lose my mind with pleasure. My mouth hung open as I gasped for air. Strands of hair clung to my cheeks, wet with unbidden tears. I let out a continuous series of moans as his thick cock forced my pussy to the breaking point, like he'd promised. He made me take every single inch of him and I loved it.

"Come for me," he demanded, pressing a thumb to my clit. "Come on my cock."

I shrieked, limbs thrashing as I came, squeezing down around him. He growled, low in his chest, a wild sound. He slammed into me with brutal thrusts, twitching and pulsing as he found his release. I felt him spill inside me, liquid heat filling me like I'd been craving.

We shook and panted and trembled together for what seemed like hours. The haze of pleasure left me numb, almost unable to move, unable to think.

Finally it subsided. I collapsed onto the mattress, face first. Noah pulled out and gently rolled me over.

"Don't suffocate yourself," he said with a soft smile.

"I can't move," I moaned. "You broke me."

"You asked for it."

"I did," I agreed. I pulled him into my arms and snuggled against his chest. "Thank you."

"For the fucking of a lifetime?"

"For that, too. But mostly for distracting me. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I know you feel like you aren't good enough, but I promise you. You're talented. You've got a gift. It may not come easy to you, but true art never does."

"Writing music should feel like you're slicing open your veins," I mused, repeating what he'd told me. "Pretty strong words for someone who considers himself a sell out."

He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "There's a difference between writing cliched lyrics for an album and composing a song that has personal meaning."

I sat up in his arms, meeting his gaze. "That song you played before. The one you said you wrote for Lily. Is that what it was like when you were composing it? Did you feel like you were bleeding onto the music sheets?"

His eyes were solemn. "Yes. Lily draws for me. I make music for her."

I let out a deep breath. "I wish I had that much passion. That much creativity."

He stroked a strand of hair away from my face. "You do. I don't know why you always put yourself down."

I went quiet for a moment.

"I can hear you thinking," Noah said. "You can talk to me. I'll listen."

He repeated the words I'd said to him weeks before. Noah had shared his past with me, but I hadn't shared mine with him. He knew a bit, but not all the details.

"When my mother fell into a depression, it seemed like the only time she was happy was when we played music together. When we wrote music together. But it never came easily to me. I always struggled with it."

"All artists struggle with their art. It's part of our temperament."

"It's easy to say that but..."

"Why do you doubt yourself so much?"

"I made my mom promise not to hurt herself," I said in a rush, trying to get it out before I could second guess myself. "She promised over and over. Then once morning I went into her bedroom to wake her up for the day. She looked like she was sleeping but there was an empty pill bottle on the nightstand. I knew immediately what she'd done."

Noah's face went soft with understanding. He drew me close and pressed his cheek to the top of my head. "I'm so sorry."

Despite my best efforts to fight them back, tears streaked my cheeks. I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to stop them from falling.

"My dad was away on business. I had to take care of everything. I called 911. I waited with her until they arrived. I had to go with the ambulance when they took her to the hospital, even though I knew..." I choked back more tears. "I knew there wasn't anything they could do. She was already gone." I pulled the sheets to my chest, curling in on myself. "She promised me. She promised she wouldn't hurt herself. She told me if it ever got that bad, she would come to me and we'd get her help."

"Are you angry with her?" Noah asked quietly.

"I want to be. I wish I could be." I let out a shuddering breath. "If only I could have convinced her to get help sooner. If only I had done something more."

Noah cuddled me to his chest. "What more could you have done?"

I knew he was only trying to reassure me, but the words just brought on a wave of guilt, of self-doubt.

We were both silent for long moments before Noah burst out.

"Fuck, I'm an asshole." His voice was pained. "That shitty comment I made at the party..."

"It's okay." I pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You didn't know. Anyway. I'm over it."

"Are you?" he asked.

"No," I said, my voice still shaking from the tears. "I'm not. But I will be." I turned to Noah, facing him. His dark eyes were open, expressive, reflecting the pain I could feel inside myself. "I think I'm ready to read it now."

Noah titled his head, confused. "Read what?"

I grabbed my purse from the floor. I paused for a moment before unzipping the small side pocket and pulling out the unopened letter.

"I didn't just find an empty pill bottle on the nightstand," I confessed. "I found this letter. It's addressed to me, in my mom's handwriting."

I handed Noah the letter. He took it gingerly. "It's stilled sealed."

"I've never opened it."

He stared at me. "Why not?"

"I'm afraid."

"Of what it might say?"

"It's like I said. Playing music with my mom, writing music with her, was the only time she was happy. And it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough. And I've never been ready to hear her last words to me. Except..." I took the letter back from Noah. "I think now I am."

Noah squeezed one of my hands. I took a deep breath and tore a small line down the edge of the envelope. I pulled out the letter.

Except it wasn't a letter. It was several thin pieces of sheet music. I frowned and turned the papers over. No writing, just lines and lines of music notes.

"Is this a song?" Noah asked, taking a few sheets to examine himself. He scanned through the pages. "This is really good. I can imagine how it would sound live. It's moving." He flicked his eyes to me. "It sounds a lot like you. It sounds a lot like the song we're working on now."

"We were-" I halted, the words catching in my throat. "We were working on a song together. We hadn't managed to finish it before..." I trailed off, reading the first few words at the very top of the sheet. The title of the song.

You Are My Heart "There's something written here." Noah held the last page in his hand.

I took it from him. There were three words in my mother's handwriting. I mouthed the words, but couldn't speak them out loud.

Noah said them for me, murmuring them quietly.

"Please forgive me." His eyes met mine. "Those were your mother's last words."

Tears fell from my eyes.

"Playing music with me, writing music with me, was the only thing that made my mom happy," I told him. "And even that wasn't enough. She still killed herself." I looked down at my lap, my vision blurry with tears. "I always felt like I would never be good enough. I wasn't good enough to save my mom."

Noah enveloped me in a flurry of arms and blankets. "You're mother killing herself had nothing to do with you. Nothing. It's not your fault."

"She finished our song," I murmured thoughtfully. I leaned back into his embrace. I let the letter fall from my hands onto the mattress. I rested my head on Noah's chest and wrapped my arms around him. He pulled me into a tight hug.

"Can you?" Noah asked quietly. I knew what he was asking.

Please forgive me.

"Yes," I said simply. "I think I can now."

Chapter Twenty-Six.

With the help of my mom's music, we finally finished our song.

Noah had the brilliant idea of using parts of my mom's song to complete ours. The result had been amazing. The personal, emotional parts of Noah Hart that I'd managed to drag out of him, kicking and screaming at times, melded perfectly with the work my mom and I had done years ago. It was as if the two songs were made to compliment each other. All those missing pieces I hadn't been able to put together suddenly meshed.

Of course, our song still needed to be properly arranged into a a real rock song with guitars and drums and bass, but for now we at least had the actual melody composed. The rest could come later.

"I'm proud of you," I told Noah as I finished making a few last notes on the music sheet. We were at Etude Entertainment headquarters, practicing one last time before our meeting with Naomi.

"Proud of me for what?"

"For opening up. For letting your guard down. Your fans will love it. I think it will really speak to them. It's meaningful. Between the two of us, we've written a song that feels more like a Noah Hart song and less like a Darkest Days song."

"No." He shook his head. "It feels like a Jennifer Young and Noah Hart song." He wrapped his arms around me. "I couldn't have done it without you," he murmured in my ear.

"Are you getting sappy on me?"

He grumbled. "I'm Noah Fucking Hart. I don't do sappy."

I just smiled to myself. "You want to practice a few more times?"

"I think I need some more inspiration." His hand slid down my back to cup my ass.

I batted his hand away. "Stop it. We're at work. In public."

"Never stopped us before."

"I think you've had enough inspiration to last you a lifetime."