Chapter 21
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Brew
This woman shouldn’t be able to do this to me. Like most things in my life, I go with my gut.
Not being able to shake Erica is one thing, but this? This is something else entirely.
“Why are you standing here?” she breathes.
“One guess?”
“I thought you were helping Pipes?”
“I was. Didn’t know you were here. Somethin’ tells me after that last text you’ve been avoidin’ me.” I pique a brow, one that isn’t as harsh as I mean it to be, but, like usual, Erica doesn’t flinch.
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“We both know you’re not afraid of me, so it can’t be that.”
She’s tentative when she asks, “Should I be afraid of you?”
“You’re really gonna ask me that?”
She lifts her chin in that adorable way of hers. “No, because we both know I’m not, even if I should be.”
“I’d never hurt you.” I know she knows this, but I can’t help myself from repeating it. It’s important that she knows. I never want her to feel afraid, not of me.
“I know that.”
“So why the fifty questions?”
She lowers her voice. “Is this the time or the place?”
I suddenly realize where we are, and she’s right. This time I grin. Enjoying how her eyes widen when I do, I pinch her chin. “You’re right.” I step back, taking her hand in mine. I secure my gun, then tug her toward the door.
“Brew, where are we going?”
I ignore her, then head for the back. One of the offices that Pipes uses for storage is the perfect place for privacy. I lock the door behind us, the light in here dim which is perfect. If she could see how much I want her, she’d probably run a mile.
“I can’t do this anymore,” I admit, caging her in against the shelving. It’s packed with boxes, stationery and anything else around that hasn’t been packed away. I lift her, and as she gasps, I revel in how much I manage to shock her.
It’s utterly adorable, and I don’t find many things in life this entertaining. Except my sweet Erica.
Her bottom lip trembles when she asks, “Do what?”
“Stay away from you.”
She snorts a laugh, tries to hide it — failing miserably — then bursts out laughing.
I let her have a moment. When her eyes find mine again, I admit, I’m chuckling too. Fuck knows why.
She puts her hands on either side of my face. I’ve never let anyone touch me like this. Not even Valencia. “Somethin’ funny?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just…” She places a hand over her mouth. “We’ve never even kissed and yet you’ve done things to me that, well, they shouldn’t be legal.”
“You want to be kissed?” The words sound foreign to me. I don’t kiss. Aside from the one girl I lost, I haven’t since. Kissing is too intimate. It connects two people in a way that sex doesn’t even reach.
I want to hear it. I want to hear her say it. “Answer me,” I demand. My mouth is so close to hers. Fuck, I love it when she keeps me waiting. It only fuels the fire.
She swallows hard. “Y-yes.”
I feel like a fucking smug son of a bitch, but I don’t hesitate, not this time.
I know what doing this means. It changes everything.
Feelings develop. Somebody is bound to get hurt, and.
.. Oh, fuck it. I lean forward — since she still has her hands on my face — I don’t have to move too far, and then my lips plant against hers.
I hear a small moan from her mouth, then the sensation of pureness hits me like a ton of bricks.
I always knew Erica’s mouth would be soft, but this exceeds anything I thought I knew.
Clearly, I didn’t know jack shit. She’s like a heavenly cloud, her lips feel like silk.
I’m tentative at first; it’s been years since I’ve done this, but it is just like riding a bike. I just don’t remember a bike being this good. Goddamn, if I’d have known, I would have done this a lot sooner, but only with her. There is nobody else.
I tug on her bottom lip with my teeth, her throaty gasp spurs me on. My hands, which are planted on either side of her body against the wall, move to her hips. I pull her toward the very end of the counter and plant myself even farther between her legs. Exactly where I need to be.
I pull back, but only for a second. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited to do that.”
I enjoy the sight of her disheveled state, and I’ve barely touched her. I can’t wait to see how disheveled I can get her after I fuck her. My heart beat races at all the dirty things I want to do to this beautiful woman.
“Really?” She sounds so shocked. Am I really that much of an ass?
I don’t answer. Instead, my mouth is back on hers as I force my tongue inside her mouth.
Her hands move to my biceps, where she clutches on for dear life.
If I move my hands from her hips to touch her anywhere else, we’re in deep fucking trouble.
I’m no saint, and if she so much as nudges my dick, I will fuck her on this bench.
I don’t give a shit where we are. There are no cameras in here, and the door is locked. My cock thickens when I think about if she’d let me.
Our kiss takes me to another planet. I’m not even in my own body. Every nerve ending is on fire.
When she pulls back, she’s a panting mess. “Oh.”
I stare into her pretty eyes. “Oh?”
“That’s good.”
“Good?”
“Better than good.”
“Until I get a ‘oh Dylan, don’t stop,’ I’m gonna stay in this broom closet.”
She slaps me on the arm, and I realize how easy it is with her. The banter. The jokes. I can be myself. Not a lot of people know I have a sense of humor. It doesn’t come out very often, but sometimes those close to me get a glimpse.
“I think we both know you’ve already mastered that.”
I cup her face. “I want you.”
Her eyes widen again. “Here?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, my…” Her hand flies to her throat. “But what about—”
“Pipes is busy. Door’s locked. Luna ain’t comin’, and your kid’s busy at soccer.”
“It’s scary how much you know about my life,” she says, her eyes glittering.
“Ever done it in a closet?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
It shouldn’t bring warmth to my soul that she hasn’t fled. That she should, yet she hasn’t moved one muscle. “I want to taste you.”
Her breath hitches as I move my mouth to her neck. I kiss where I bit her earlier. It’s showing a little bit of a mark, and I should feel bad about that, but instead it’s like my own personal branding, and I fucking love it.
“Are you sure nobody can get in here?” Her eyes dart to the locked door.
“Not a chance,” I reply, nuzzling her neck. She smells so good; that floral scent of peonies won’t ever tire on me. It’s my calling card.
My hands are at the waistband of her pants, which I’ve just discovered has an elastic waist. Perfect.
I slide my hand inside and over her panties.
Erica has the ability to make me feel like a schoolboy all over again, and maybe being in here is adding to the excitement just a little.
It’s the middle of the afternoon, and we should probably go find a room.
But no room is ever gonna do if I leave here without filling my senses with her.
It won’t do any good. I’ve tried living without her, and it doesn’t work.
Walking away isn’t an option I can live with.
Not when I know this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.
“Tell me,” I whisper against her neck. “Tell me how good it feels.”
She wraps her arms around my neck, we’re flush together, our bodies needing the contact like we’re magnets who can’t be separated.
I know she can feel how hard I am against her stomach.
I want her to think about that while I tease her.
Needing her to want me as much as I want her has never been more apparent than this moment.
“It feels so, so good, Dylan.”
And there it is.
Hearing my name on her lips is like an angel just whispered it. An angel I’m about to corrupt. Watching her shoot my fucking gun was a treat, but this? I mean, how much more teasing can a man take?
I slide my hand into her panties. “Do you enjoy torturin’ me?”
The moan that escapes her has me chuckling against her pulse. “I d-didn’t t-think I was.”
“Clearly, you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
The sensation of belonging hits me with full force.
I’d have to be a complete idiot to miss it.
I’ve never really belonged. Somehow, I’ve always just skirted around on the outside of feelings.
Never wanting to get caught ever again. The pain of losing someone is just too much.
My heart — which some believe is cold and dead — couldn’t take it again.
Every single risk floods through my mind.
I know Erica’s too good for me. I also understand, more than she’ll ever know, that I don’t deserve a woman like her.
Will that stop me from taking what I want?
Fuck no. But the very idea that some guy someday could snag her up while I stand on the outside looking in fills me with dread and fear.
Fear: not just because I want her so much, or for my own wellbeing, but for hers.
The world I live in and some of the people I mix with aren’t good.
They’re not exactly citizens of the year. Inadvertently, that would involve her.
“And you think too much,” she whispers.
I like we’re on the same page, and seeing what a mess I’ve made of her from my teasing is enough to shut up every thought in my head telling me to stop.
“A trait we both possess.” It’s not a question, I know she does it too.
I press against her sweet spot, and she cries out.
“You never have to hide with me,” I tell her.
I drag my fingers through her slickness, the rumble that leaves my chest isn’t voluntary, like most things with my sweet girl.
“You never have to run.” I slide one finger inside. “You never have to think. Just feel.”
She makes a noise that crosses all the lines, and I’m harder every second that passes.
When she places her hand over my thick cock, I almost combust.
Dangerous territory. Well, I think we both know we’re way past that.
“Holy cow,” she breathes.
I slide my finger in and out, wanting her to feel every single beat of my heart, right along with hers.
I know it won’t be long until she comes, and that makes this all that much sweeter.
That heat I love so much rises in her cheeks, and I need to hear it; my name on her lips.
It’s like a drug to me, one I’m addicted to and can’t ever get away from.
“Tell me.”
“S-so good.” She squeezes her eyes shut, but I don’t let up. I slide another finger and watch her chest rise and fall faster. “Brew!”
“Scream all you want, the walls are soundproof.” I smile against her skin, unable to take my mouth from her. “But make sure you use my name, I’m not Brew, remember?”
Her pants come in faster and faster as she asks, “Is Brew not as nice as Dylan?”
“Nothin’ nice about me, full stop,” I remind her. “You know that better than anyone.”
She shakes her head. “N-no. I don’t believe it.”
Then I’m rewarded with tightness against my fingers as she clenches down, moaning as she cries out. “Dylan!”
That’s it, that’s my girl. She comes hard as I drink her in.
Her crimson cheeks and heavy pants are my reward as I take every single second and lock it safely inside. This is our moment.
Abruptly, I stop. Then I drop to my knees. My eyes meet hers as she tries to compose herself. It’s laughable how she can’t manage that simple feat. Good. I want her wrecked. I want her to be a crumbling mess for me. Only me.
And she’s about to find out exactly why I’ve remained faithful to only her, without even realizing I was doing it…