Chapter 17
Brooks made me lose my mind. Totally and completely.
Not only had it taken him less than five seconds and only one squeeze on my hip to have me pushing my ass into him like a hussy in heat, but I was quick to jump at a chance for seconds.
What the hell was wrong with me? And he’d gotten extremely growly and bossy.
Instead of telling him to take a long walk off a short pier, my body electrified and obeyed.
My eyes had snapped to his and he’d pulled me out of my dark thoughts.
I’d demanded he let me ride him, but once I was on top, panic took over.
I was on full display. He could see my scars.
I had to look away, I couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust on his face. What if he saw them and he?—
“Tatiana,” Brooks snapped.
“Huh?”
My vision cleared and I realized I was still on top of him.
And man-oh-man he looked angry. Not a look one would expect from a man who had just had two orgasms. Thank God, I was leaning forward with my boobs mostly smashed against his very hard, very fine chest. This time around, I hadn’t missed how strong and well-defined every muscle was.
But right then, I wasn’t concentrating on his muscle definition.
I was in a pickle. How in the hell was I going to get off of Brooks without allowing him to see me?
“Baby.” He swept my hair away from my face and over my shoulder. “You keep zoning out on me.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Bullshit.”
“Stop doing that. You don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Yeah, Doll, I do. And it’s bullshit.” No longer caring, since I was pissed, I made my move and tried to roll off of him. “Not gonna happen.”
“What’s not?”
“The hand. You closing down and pushing me away. You telling yourself a bunch of fucked-up lies. None of it.”
“The only thing I’ve lied to myself about is, thinkin’ this was a good idea,” I returned.
I had nowhere to go. One arm was like a steel band around my back holding me in place, the other was shoved in my hair and he was holding on there, too. I couldn’t move. Well, I could, but not without a struggle, and that struggle would result in him seeing me.
“No, baby, this being a good idea, is the only thing that’s not fucked-up.”
“You’re pissing me off,” I warned.
“You were pissed off a mile back. I’m okay with you being pissed. What I’m not okay with is you filling your head with a bunch of garbage. You are beautiful.”
If I could’ve covered my ears like a petulant child, I would’ve. I didn’t want to hear his shit. There was nothing beautiful about me. Nothing. He didn’t need to sweet talk me to get me into bed with him. I’d already proved I was a sure thing, times three.
“Let go of me.”
“Not until you listen.”
“Just stop. Please.”
“No way am I going to let you ruin what we just shared. When you forget and lose yourself you are a sight. You are wild and free.”
“I’m not wild,” I protested.
“Baby, you are. You gave yourself to me and I’m not letting you take it back.”
“I didn’t give myself to you.”
I was arguing just to argue. I needed to find a way to get away from him and out of the bed.
His tone was far too possessive. The last thing I needed was the entanglement.
The way he looked at me, touched me, held me close to him all night was too much.
I couldn’t get lost in him, we had a job to do.
When it was over, we’d both walk away. I didn’t need a broken heart when that happened.
“I think the last hour proves you wrong.”
“We need to get up.”
"We will, in a minute."
"What are you waiting for?"
"A good morning kiss."
"Oh, no. No more kissing. No more touching. No more sleeping in the same bed. I'll take the couch."
I was a little afraid of the lazy smile that played on his lips. I didn't need him to utter the words to know he didn't agree with my moratorium.
"Stop fucking around and kiss me good morning."
"Not gonna happen, Brooks. We need to get up. I have work to do. I have to go to the naval base and drop off some documents before we leave Bahrain."
"Then you better hurry, Doll."
Why wasn't I wrestling out of his grasp? I could've easily fought his hold and broken free. But I wasn't. I was still perched on his lap, naked, with his dick pressed between us. Why did he have to be so damn sexy? Or maybe a better question was, why was I so fucking weak?
All it took was the slightest bit of pressure on the back of my head and I was lowering my lips to his.
He wasn't smug about my acquiescence. As a matter of fact, when his eyes locked onto mine they gentled.
He looked almost proud. Maybe I was seeing things and he was simply amused he was getting his way—again.
He didn't allow me to kiss him, like he'd asked. As soon as my lips touched his, he halted my progress. Instead of allowing me to take control, he slowly grazed his lips against mine. Feather soft. His stubble a barely-there scrape as he kissed the corner of my mouth.
"You are so beautiful."
He placed another peck square on my mouth.
"Absolutely perfect."
He moved to the other side and another brush of his lips.
"I can't get enough of you."
My heart pounded, my legs trembled, and my hands on his chest shook. He had to stop talking. I pressed in closer and swept my tongue across his lips, preventing him from saying anything else.
"Goddamn, never been kissed like that before, Doll. I could spend all day in this bed with you doing nothing but exploring that sexy as fuck mouth of yours."
The kissing, touching, and sex was less potent than his words.
When he said those things to me, he made me want to believe.
I wanted to be beautiful. But I wasn't. I was anything but perfect.
My flesh was marred and mangled. Brooks was out of my league.
Out in the real world, he could have any number of sexy women at his beck and call.
I was a convenient lay while he was out on an op.
“One of these days, you'll believe me, that the shit you allow to swirl in your head is utter shit.” I hated that he could read me so easily. "Up you go."
"Um... Maybe..."
"Not a goddamn chance you're trying to roll off me so you can hide. This is day one of me washing that shit from your head. There is not one thing about you I don't find beautiful."
"Brooks," I snapped. "Stop saying that crap. We both know it's not true."
I found myself flying through the air, flat on my back, and Brooks’ large frame looming over me before I knew what was going on. "You calling me a liar, Tatiana?"
"No. Not a liar. I think you're trying to be polite."
"Doll, we've been over this. I don't say shit just to say it. I'm not polite, I'm honest."
He sat up and rearranged my legs so they were wrapped around his back and he stared down at me. With one hand still on my hip, his other traced the puckered scars on my stomach.
"Please, don't."
He ignored me and continued, touching each one of them. Tenderly. I couldn't stand to watch, to feel his roughened fingertips lightly caress my disgusting skin.
"Stop, Brooks."
His exploration progressed but his gaze came to me. Brooks’ eyes held mine and his hand roamed. I felt the stinging and the liquid was nearly brimming over. I could do nothing to stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks.
"Damn you," I hissed. "Stop."
"Each and every one of these marks represents how strong you are. How mentally tough you are. What your body can endure because you are fierce. Each scar a reminder that you are a force to be reckoned with. Your determination, will, how capable you are. Every blemish tells a story of survival and courage. You are goddamn beautiful and it has nothing to do with your pretty face, soft hair, great fucking legs, and everything to do with these.” His big hand spanned my stomach, almost covering all of the pockmarks.
"Your strength makes you the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.
And mark this, Tatiana, one day you're gonna see what I see.
But in the meantime, I'm gonna remind you and I'm gonna do it often.
No way in hell should a woman like you live her life hiding away with a hand up.
That hand is gonna fall, too. And when it does, I'll prove to you where you land is a safe and good place to be. "
When Brooks stopped speaking, I had no choice but to come to the realization I wasn’t walking away with my heart intact. When he left, I’d have a Brooks Miller-sized hole in my chest. And I would bet it was going to hurt worse than any beating I’d received while in enemy hands.