Chapter 17
“That’s it. You’re my lucky charm. I’m never letting you go, Pix.”
I desperately tried to keep my walls up in the hours of drinks and laughter, of clasping his big hands in mine to blow into his cupped palms, hoping to bless his dice with luck. The blur of lights, bells, endless shouting speakers and cheers or groans of sloshed patrons surrounding tables all mixed into a chaotic concoction with the occasional moments of clarity. Moments like his hand sliding to the small of my back as we crossed the casino. Moments like his lips brushing my cheek after we won an impressive pile of chips. Moments like Broderick pulling me into one of the tacky gift shops and nudging me toward the tower of postcards.
I’d laughed and said, “Oh my gosh, you remember!” Because for several long, pathetic years, every new place my travels took me, I never forgot to send one home to him with a recount of the trips highlights and a ‘wish you were here’. He never wrote back. Just thanked me via text and we’d chat for a moment before he’d vanish again.
“I remember everything, Pix.” Those were the words that cracked through my walls as I sheepishly stared up at him under my mascaraed lashes. Scrambling to stay in control, to stay lighthearted, to not waste this one opportunity to build memories with him, I scanned the assortment and snatched up the Bellagio with its beautifully illuminated fountains, waving it in the air in victory.
I remember everything, Pix.The words played on a loop right until we were standing in the cashier’s cage, the sounds from all directions bombarding my senses, while his praise sailed full speed into my chest, and my pathetic defenses crumbled like castles made from Play-Doh after someone left the lid off the container. I’m never letting you go, Pix.
Broderick’s eyes were no longer glossy with one too many fingers of scotch, and it was the clarity in his vision as he said it that threatened to destroy me. Just a stupid little girl, with my stupid childhood crush in a city full of lights and glamor, wishing he meant them like I wanted him to. Instead of saying any of that, I swallowed and smiled, ignoring that it felt watery even to me.
Clearing my throat, hoping the emotion would go with it, I asked, “How’d we do?”
“Made out like bandits. I mean, after the slots.”
Laughing, I agreed, “Yeah, that sucked. Blackjack and Roulette too.”
His brow pinched in the most adorable display of confusion as he tucked his wallet—our winnings, along with it—into his jacket pocket. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen the man even remotely intoxicated. He was cute as hell. “I forgot we did that.”
“Poker was decent.”
“But not like Craps—should’ve just stayed there in the first place.” His eyes narrowed in contemplative curiosity, and I canted my head, watching as he stretched his arm to pull his sleeve up. Eyes on his watch, he muttered, “Perfect.”
“What?” I asked, confused but still grinning, and willing away the want in my chest in favor of a mask of entertainment.
“Come on.”
“Come where?” I demanded petulantly, but when he stretched his hand out, I took it. At least if he iced me out this time, it would be from many, many miles away and I’d be none the wiser.
“Just humor me. Come on.” Rolling my eyes, I followed Broderick’s lead as he dragged my ass through and out of the casino on legs that still felt more like rubber than actual limbs. After a few crackling moments of silence, he asked, “Do you remember that year we were all camped out by the lake and got to see the Northern Lights?”
“Yeah?”
“Just…thinking about the two of us keeping each other warm under that blanket.”
I snorted, shaking my head at the fondness in his voice. “You mean the night James almost decked you for ‘fondling me?”
“I did not,” he insisted irritably, earning a laugh.
“Oh, I know. I was there, remember?” He’d actually been an infuriatingly perfect gentleman, hand firmly planted on my arm, as he tucked me against his side and we chattered into the chilly air together, refusing to call it a night and move into the tents away from the fire. For me, that had everything to do with the fact that I’d be sleeping with my sisters, and not the gorgeous twenty-one-year-old overwhelming my senses with his warm hug and cinnamon-laced scent. Not that Jameson saw it that way, the overprotective teddy bear he was. “Not gonna lie. I actually loved that Old Spice shit you wore.”
“God, that was a phase.”
“One of my favorites. That was the year I left Mistyvale.” What I didn’t say was in no small part to get away from you.
When Broderick opened the side door of the resort onto the bustling street, he glanced back to me, his eyes far away and pinched in the center, a heaviness to his tone when he spoke. “Believe me, I know.”
Stepping out into the brisk evening, grateful we were in Nevada and not anywhere farther north where the air would bite this time of year, I squeezed his hand. Fairly certain he’d been avoiding me with the same level of dedication the last forty-eight hours, I softly asked, “Where you been, Professor? The last few days?”
“Thinking, Pix. A lot of thinking.”
“Care to share with the class?” I pressed.
He shook his head, cheek curving with the tiniest of smirks. Somehow, my never-ending references to his career path had yet to get old. “Just you.”
Two words. Two words weighed down with so much unspoken implication that my feet felt heavy with them. There was no way I imagined that. It was only his hand in mine, leading me down the strip, that kept me moving.
Voice gruff, he asked, “You remember the day you broke your arm?”
Surprised by his question, I nodded. I’d been fifteen and fell while bouldering with the guys. The look of resolute horror on his face as they made a makeshift bind for my agonized arm was permanently etched in my mind. It was a different fear than my brothers showed. I’d known it then, just like I knew it now with the weight of those deep browns on my face, and tears pricked in my eyes. Fully incapable of holding that intense gaze, I looked to the concrete, even as he squeezed my fingers. I breathed a nervous laugh.
“You held my good hand all the way down the mountain. Held me in the back of Rhyett’s truck. Wouldn’t leave my side until they took me back for x-rays.”
“That was the scariest day of my life. The idea of something hurting you—even back then—absolutely eviscerated me.” My stupid, smitten brain got held up on the emphasis of the past tense. Like, somehow, he cared more now than then. But he was talking again, dragging my muddled brain and hammering heart right along with him. “The year you had braces, I didn’t smile in a single group photo, so that you wouldn’t be the only one hiding your teeth.”
My cheeks flushed, eyes wide as I watched his profile, his gaze fixed ahead of us. Hell, I thought I’d imagined that. “I remember,” I breathed, suddenly incapable of having enough oxygen to power proper words. Where in the hell was he going with this?
“When that blond douche, Brian Moretti, stood you up on prom night, I wanted to physically tear him limb from limb. Feed him to the sharks.”
“You shoved him off the dock,” I recalled, smiling softly and pushing my legs to keep up with his determined stride. I’d never seen Broderick move with this sense of urgency, unless he had a football in his hands. He powered each step with an unspoken purpose that I didn’t understand.
A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest as he nodded. “I have countless screw ups in my life, El. I’m far from perfect—kind of a fuck up, really.” When my mouth popped open to protest, he whirled to face me, setting his warm fingers against my lips and instantly rendering me silent. “But the worst of them all has been hurting you.”
“Brod—”
“I’m sorry,” he cut me off, closing the distance as he brought those big hands to my arms, pulling me into him, soothing the length of them. We froze within the stream of the city, forcing the scattered pedestrians to split around us like an island in the flow of a river. “I never got a chance to tell you that. Never knew how to say it. But there it is— I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. First, during your junior prom.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, the memory of his mouth on mine and hands on my body flooding the corners of my mind. God, I’d never been so thrilled with myself as I was in that moment. He was my nirvana…until he wasn’t. He’d pulled away, muttering apologies for stepping out of line, and when I attempted to reassure him, he told me he should never have kissed a minor. A minor. Like I hadn’t been in love with him since I knew what love was. Like we hadn’t served as the other’s safe harbor for years. That old ache echoed back at me as he studied my face, my mouth, finally locking on my eyes.
“Again, last summer, the day James got arrested. And every damn year in between.” He stroked the gentlest caress down the length of my cheek, goosebumps rippling in his wake. Undeniable hunger filled those crisp brown eyes, shadowed by sadness. “Sarah. The gym this week. Taylor Swift.” He shook his head, chin dipping. “So many screw ups.”
Heart falling out my ass, I made to pull back, but panic flared across his face as it snapped to mine, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to him, caging me against his hips as frantic eyes flicked between mine. His other hand suddenly forked through my hair, coming to cradle the back of my head and sending the air rushing between my parted lips. My startled hands settled against his chest.
“Broderick? What are you saying?” That was the thing about internal injuries. The physical ones would clot and bruise and web together over time. But the unseen ones? Those are forever. Those old scars smarted just the same as they had when he’d left them, and I stifled the hint of hope his words planted. I wasn’t allowed to hope. Especially when he held me just like this days ago, only to vanish on me altogether. Not even as he held me, like he cradled the world in those broad palms.
Sheepish eyes dropped between us before coming back to trace my face, lingering on my mouth. “That I’ve been a coward, Pix. That I’ve been terrified for years.”
“Terrified of what?” I wanted the words to come out like a demand, but the fear, the sincerity in his eyes robbed me of my strength, leaving in its stead a confused, desperate kind of want… A want reflected back to me in dark eyes, his pupils blown wide, and dropping to my lips.
“That I’m too late,” he said as my hands slid over his where they cradled my face. A gentle thumb traced over my cheekbone. “That a better man would scoop you up and I’d never get to apologize or admit the truth of it. To tell you how fucking brave I think you are.” Another stroke of my cheek that fueled my rapid-fire heart. “I’m scared I’ll never get to tell you that your brothers have nearly killed me with this pact of theirs. That every day I see you and can’t touch you is a slow kind of death.” One warm palm eased down my neck as if he could coax me back into breathing where I’d solidified to stone beneath his touch. Beneath the lunacy of the words hovering in the air between us. “I’ve been terrified of what would happen if I screwed everything up and let myself have you.”
The world stopped. Tilted. Like we’d been submerged in water, the chaos of the street vanished and my entire body ignited under the intent in his gaze, the heat of our skin where it met. Because his forehead was resting on mine, his inhales robbing the air from my chest.
“Terrified to ask you to forgive me.” His warm hands slid up and tilted my chin, our mouths nearly brushing before he leaned back, just an inch as if to search my eyes for an answer. He must have seen something, because he leaned back in, breath hot on my face as he said, “To ask you if there were no other factors, would you still want me?”
I gave a tiny, breathless nod…and then the world detonated. I hadn’t even realized where he’d taken me until an enthusiastic symphony of saxophones blared to life on speakers everywhere as the enormous Bellagio fountains burst into synchronized dances to my left…and Broderick Allen ripped away every ounce of sense as his lips claimed mine.
Broderick
I kind of expected oneof two things to happen when I kissed Elora Rhodes. One—she’d hesitantly kiss me back, more of a ‘letting it happen’ before letting me down easy. Easier than I’d let her down, at least. Two—she’d rear back, cock that arm like we taught her to, and ring my bell. Maybe tell me I was an idiot and missed my chance. Either reality seemed liable to happen, and I’d deemed the gamble worth taking.
What I didn’t expect was for the world as I knew it to implode in her tiny fists where they gathered my shirt like she hung on for dear life. Frank Sinatra’s Luck Be a Lady blared through the center of the strip as she raised on her toes, the full weight of her leaning into me like she was about to collapse. I pinned her against me. Wanting more. Needing more. I cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, urging her tighter against me. In the same heartbeat, she scraped her manicured nails beneath the hem of my shirt, and along the skin beneath. A shiver wracked my spine, and I nipped her bottom lip, swallowing her breathy moan that followed before running my tongue over it to soothe away any sting. El’s nails dug into my oblique, her other hand cradling the back of my head as I tightened my fingers in her hair. El pressed her hips against mine, and I knew she could feel exactly how badly I needed her. Spine tugging, I barely groaned her name.
It was the abrupt crescendo of saxophones, the ensuing cutoff of the music from the speakers, finale of splashes, and round of applause for the show that peeled us apart. The same wild need burning me alive was shining in her steel-blues as a stunned kind of silence settled between us, and slowly, the growl of the city buzzed back into my consciousness.
She’d stolen away every sense when she returned my kiss like her life depended on it. Chest heaving, unable to stifle my smile, I breathed, “Hey, baby.”
Her response was an uncharacteristically tentative smile back, and breathy, “Need you,” and then she snatched my hand and was pulling me back toward our hotel. For the first time in our life, I felt no guilt watching the sway of her hips and pert, perfect ass.
It wasn’t until we were trapped in an elevator with a middle-aged Japanese man in a slick suit who kept nervously looking between us like the tension was palpable that I finally got my heart rate—and hard on—under control. I cleared my throat, giving him a curt smile and nod. All the while, I was fully aware the pull between us felt like electricity popping off in the air. Poor guy skirted out the doors the instant they opened, and El impatiently jabbed at the button to close them until they finally banged shut. Which, admittedly, felt pretty damn good, knowing she was just as desperate to get back to me as I was to her.
Even better when she turned, still looking stunned…and absolutely edible. In the next beat, she closed the distance, leaving the last few inches for me, like she was giving me space to change my mind.
Instead, I bent to grab her ass—and fuck me. She was perfect. Strong and round and just small enough for me to hoist into the air. El immediately complied, wrapping me in those shapely thighs and descending on my mouth with the same fervor from the fountain. I backed her into the mirrored wall as the elevator climbed, yellow fluorescents flickering softly as they buzzed. I was too busy to care. Tasting, teasing, tugging at those soft lips until her tongue slid into my mouth. She held me tight between her legs, like if she released me, I might vanish. I echoed the sentiment, palm in a desperate rush over every inch I could reach. The feel and flavor of her engraved themselves into my memory eternally. Along with her desperate, breathless voice.
“Broderick.”
I pulled back to study her, checking in and finding her just as taken as I was. Her flushed cheeks, swollen, parted pink lips, wide eyes, and dark, fluttering lashes all shot the last drops of blood from my body to my cock. Fucker was already painfully hard as I claimed her mouth again, one hand roaming while the other arm held her up. Her hands were everywhere, but as the elevator slowed, they came to my shirt, fumbling with the collar, and then the first button. Second. Third. All without breaking the kiss.
When the doors whooshed open, she made to disentangle. But I shook my head.
“Someone could see us,” she panted, and I grinned against her mouth as I carried her down the hallway.
“Don’t care,” I breathed back, earning a nervous laugh that I swallowed a beat later. Somehow, we managed our way down the hallway and into our room without setting her down. She had at least half my buttons out of the way when the door clicked behind us, the lock buzzing closed by the time we hit the bed.
With her splayed out beneath me, chest heaving, eyes tracing my partially exposed torso, I shook my head, smiling in disbelief. Reverently sliding my palms down her sides, I trailed the length of her gorgeous, muscled legs, and hooked her shoes free, dropping them to the floor as her sharp eyes tracked the movements.
Praying she didn’t change her mind, I demanded, “Tell me you want this.”
She nodded, and for a breath, I thought she wouldn’t speak, but she managed a quiet, “I need you. This. I need this.” Her feet hooked behind my back again, pulling me onto her.
“Too many clothes,” I complained, slipping my hands beneath the hem of her loose pants, sliding them down as she laughed.
“I agree,” she breathed back, fingers snatching the edge of my shirt. But instead of continuing to free the buttons, she slid her hands flat, roaming up my chest as her eyes followed, and then yanked me sideways with her legs. Laughing, I rolled with her, certainly not complaining about the goddess looking down at me with lust-hooded eyes and a curtain of hair draped over a shoulder.
She smirked in a way that could only spell trouble, and before I could reach her wrists, or utter a warning, popped my button-up apart in one demanding yank, sending buttons flying and skittering across some hard surface.
“You—” my complaint was silenced when she lunged to kiss me, the words lost on her lips.
“Faster,” she said against my mouth. I rolled us back, pinning her beneath me this time. It didn’t stop her from tearing the shirt off my arms as I ripped the flimsy fabric from her top, revealing what I assumed was a very expensive bra to match her black thong. And a body I’d never dared to let myself admire. Long. Athletic. A purple gem glinting on her belly button ring.
“You’re so damn beautiful.” I palmed her narrow waist, thumb tracing the line of her abs before making my way to her soaked center. My head fell back at the slick feel of her pussy against my fingers.
Thumbing aside the thin scrap of lace fabric, I said, “Look at you, so wet and needy for me.”
“It was always you,” she panted back, no small trace of desperation in her voice. Every inch of my body froze, gaze slowly tracking away from that perfect pink pussy, up the defined lines of her body to her face, where her eyes mirrored every ounce of weight she’d placed in those words. Refusing to let go of her, I kept a palm against her clit, the other braced on the bed as I dove for her mouth. El’s hands wrapped around either side of my neck, taking my demanding kiss and pulling me tighter, a near bruising pressure.
It wasn’t enough. Could never be enough. I nudged her jaw aside to lick and nip and suck down the line of her neck. Needing to taste all of her.
“Please, Broderick,” she said on a trembling breath. That was all it took for me to thrust one finger into her wet heat. Her head rolled, back arching and exposing more of her neck for me to lick and kiss and claim.
“Fuck, Pix, you’re so tight.” Her moan was all I got in response as I added a second finger, curling them as I kissed down her collar, her chest. Memorizing her lines. I shoved away the bra and sucked one perfect nipple into my mouth. Her answering gasp shot straight to my cock.
Five minutes in, and Elora had my dick weeping like some college kid finally getting his first lay. I needed this to last. Needed to impress her. Prove we were worth the wait. But fuck, she was perfect. Coming undone beneath my hands, those little whimpers and moans destroying my resolve.
One hand curling two fingers inside her while the other worked her needy, swollen clit in gentle little circles.
“More…clit,” she panted desperately.
Smirking, I arched one brow, but complied, shaking my head. “Fucking hell, you’re still bossy when I fuck you?”
“Especially then,” she huffed through a giggle.
“Mmm,” I hummed thoughtfully, adjusting until her body arched, eyes rolling back as I increased the intensity. Fuck, she looked good coming undone beneath me. “Funny, I don’t mind it so much at the moment,” I noted. She smiled until her breath hitched in three quick pants. When her legs fought me, thighs shaking, I eased just enough to keep her writhing without taking her too far. “Tell me what you like, baby. Slow and sweet?” She shook her head, unable to open her eyes even as my smile grew. “Needy little thing. Faster?” Another head shake. “Harder?” I guessed again without shifting the pressure. She gave me another ‘no’, and I canted my head as lust-leaden eyes found mine.
“You’re perfect…I need your cock.”
It twitched in response, aching and heavy for her. I knew she’d find my head slick with pre-cum when I finally freed it. “Not yet.” Her pout came to an immediate halt when I leaned down and roughly sucked that nipple into my mouth. “I’ve waited over a decade to have you, baby. I wanna take my time with you. I want you dripping down your thighs for me–want to make you come so hard that you don’t think you can give me another. That’s when I get to fuck you, baby. And I want you to finish while screaming my name, so this whole damn hotel knows who makes you feel this good.”
And with that last promise, she did just that. Head thrown back, body clamping down around my fingers, Elora gave a breathless cry. Just my name.
“Broderick!”