7. Brent
Never Getting It Back
I didn’t miss the way my fingers shook as I hooked my cufflinks into the sleeves of my suit jacket. In fact, they trembled so badly that it took me several attempts before I managed to put them in.
Why was I so nervous?
It wasn’t like I’d never attended one of these events before. And, for fuck’s sake, I was a professional hockey player. I got my rocks off skating in front of thousands of people every night.
So no, it wasn’t that.
It was…Berkley.
Not her, exactly. I was ecstatic to see her, and humbled she’d agreed to attend this thing with me. But public opinion and the media could be cruel, and I’d never before in my career gone public with a relationship.
Mostly because there’d never been a relationship worth going public about. I’d had my fair share of situationships and fuck buddies, but never someone I wanted to show off. Never someone I could see a future with.
And, yeah, I’d been photographed with a slew of beautiful, talented, famous women—but none of them lit me up the way this little blonde did.
Truth be told, this was a trial run for me and Berkley, and it terrified me. We were in uncharted territory here, and I was simply treading water.
I was a bundle of nervous energy as I drove to Berkley’s, and the shaking in my hands hadn’t subsided by the time I knocked on her door.
But all thoughts, all the air in my lungs, vacated me when she opened it to admit me.
The dress code for the Gala was black tie, and Berkley had more than risen to the occasion.
I wasn’t sure where to look first, but my mouth dried out further with every inch of her I explored with my eyes.
She’d elected to wear her hair back in a low pony, the ends of it swishing between her shoulder blades. Sparkly chandelier earrings hung from her lobes, and she’d forgone a necklace. Her makeup was tastefully smoky, all dark eyeshadow that had her blue eyes popping in the lowlights of her foyer, and her lips were painted with a deep red lipstick I fully planned to ruin at the first opportunity.
The true star of the show, though, was her dress. Emerald green, strapless save for little swooping sleeves that draped themselves delicately just below her deltoid muscles, it hugged her torso and hips before falling in a straight line to the floor. When she cleared her throat, a nervous sound if I’d ever heard one, I had trouble tearing my gaze away from the toned leg revealed by the thigh-high slit up one side.
Genuinely, I worried for what would happen to my sanity the moment she turned around and offered me a view of her ass.
“You are…” I swallowed, struggling to find a word that perfectly encapsulated all that she was. “Breathtaking.”
She stepped closer, her strappy back stilettos clicking on the floor, and gripped the satin lapels of my suit jacket.
“And you are…so sexy,” she breathed, followed by a disbelieving little chuckle.
That laugh sent blood straight to my cock.
As soon as the words were out, Berkley clapped a hand over her mouth, and I quirked a brow.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not usually so brazen. And sexy is a woefully inadequate word for what you are.”
“I like it,” I said. “You can call me whatever you want.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I like that you’re honest with me, and I’ll never complain about you hitting on me.”
“It takes a bit for me to warm up to people,” she explained. “And I haven’t been in a relationship for a while. But I’m comfortable with you. I guess…”
She sawed at her lower lip with her teeth, an action I was quickly coming to realize was one of her anxious ticks. Gently, I reached up and pulled it free, tilting her chin so her eyes met mine. “You guess what?”
“I’m afraid this is all a dream, and I’m going to wake up to realize I was never actually standing here with you. I’m afraid reality is going to come crashing down around me.”
“Berk…” She inhaled sharply, and I realized that was the first time I’d called her by a nickname. I loved the way the shortened version of her name rolled off my lips, how easily it fell free, and I wanted to say it again and again.
“This is not a dream. You know how I know?” She made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat. “Because my imagination could never conjure up something this good.”
The smile that overtook her face outshone the sun, and I could do nothing but settle my hands over hers and raise them to my mouth, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
“So you think I’m sexy?” I teased. “Because I definitely think you’re sexy. And about a thousand other things.”
“Sexy, handsome, insanely gorgeous, way too good looking for me…” she trailed off. “I could go on, but I think you get the picture.”
I captured her chin between my thumb and forefinger, once again forcing her to meet my gaze. “I am not too good looking for you,” I said. “And if I ever hear you self-deprecate like that again—”
“You’ll do what?”
“I’ll…I’ll spank you.”
The words surprised both of us, and I fully expected her to tear herself free of my grasp, storm deeper into her apartment, and tell me to fuck off.
Instead, she arched a perfect, dark blonde brow. “Oh, really?”
The words were a caress to my entire body, and the situation in my pants grew more dire the longer we spent alone, wrapped up in each other like this, sharing these intimate thoughts. This playfulness from her was unexpected, but a good sign. A sign so good that it gave me all kinds of ideas.
She brushed past me and grabbed her jacket from the closet door, holding it out for me to help her into it.
As expected, her ass was pert and round, the fabric of her dress stretching distractingly across it. Fuck, I wanted to sink my teeth into it.
Shaking my head, I leaned close as she shrugged on the wool dress coat, giving her a little nip on her earlobe. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, Blondie.”
Berkley offered me a serene smile, as though she was entirely unaffected by this conversation while my skin tightened with desire.
“I wouldn’t dare, Beej,” she quipped, dishing a nickname right back at me, moving ahead to open the door and step into the hall. Dumbstruck, I only stared at her, blinking furiously.
What the fuck just happened?
“You coming?”
With a dark chuckle, I took a moment to adjust myself in my pants, making her fully aware of what she’d done to me.
“Maybe later,” I said with a wink, and followed her into the night.
“Well, well, well,” Mitch said when we strolled into the gala at last. “Look what the cat dragged in.”
“I never understood that statement,” Berkley said. “Cats only drag in gross things like dead mice. I don’t know about you, but we look nothing like dead mice.”
Mitch tipped his head back and barked out a laugh. Berkley only shrugged, and I couldn’t help but grin at her.
“I’ll admit, you do clean up nice,” Mitch said when he regained his composure. “You, too, Berkley.” Mitch winked.
Now it was my turn to laugh. “You’re such a weirdo.”
“I’m just saying. You’re the definition of a pretty boy, Jean.”
“I am not,” I said, scowling at my best friend. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“I don’t know…” Berkley trailed off, studying me so intently that my skin once again tightened.
Think of unsexy things, Jean. Granny panties. Men dying in warehouse fires. The state of United States healthcare.
Thankfully, sheer force of will had my dick staying down.
“You are awfully pretty,” Berkley continued. “Maybe even prettier than me.”
“Berkley…” I warned.
Unfazed, she said, “What?”
Lowering my voice, I said, “What did I tell you about self-deprecation?”
“I remember you telling me not to start something I couldn’t finish,” she said as she plucked two flutes of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter. “And what was it you said you’d do to me? Oh yes…spank me.”
“I…don’t need to be here for this,” Mitch said before turning tail and bolting for a group of our teammates across the room. I didn’t pay him any mind; all of my attention was on the tiny blonde before me.
I looped my fingers around her wrist and tugged her into my body. Though I’d fought valiantly, my cock had won out, and when I pulled Berkley close, the thick length of it pressed into her stomach, the pressure so damn perfect that I released a low groan.
“Make no mistake, Berkley,” I said quietly in her ear. “I will take you into some dark corner, rip that slit in your dress wider, and fuck you right now. But I don’t think you want that. And I definitely don’t. Because the first time I get you naked? I’m going to spread you out, and I’m going to feast. Slowly. Until I’m branded on you. Until no part of you remembers what it was like to be touched by anyone other than me.”
My words had the desired effect, and Berkley’s chest rapidly rose and fell, her pert breasts brushing against my upper abdomen in time with each inhale. I expected her to retort, but she only swallowed hard and nodded.
When I gently turned her to face the room, I pulled her back to my chest—not ready to let her go yet, both because I loved touching her, and because she was hiding the evidence of the effect she had on me—and gently threaded my fingers through hers, placing our hands over her stomach. My pinky dragged a lazy path over her hip bone.
At last, Berkley said, “I’d like that. Very much.”
I smirked down at her, letting go of her hand long enough to step to her side and clasp it with my other one. “It’s yours.”
“Tonight?”
God, this woman. “If that’s what you want.”
“I think it is.”
That stopped me dead in my tracks. “Well, ‘I think’ isn’t good enough,” I said out of the corner of my mouth as my teammates came within earshot. “When I take you for the first time, I want you to be certain. I want you begging for it.”
“I’m practically begging for it now,” she grumbled as we reached the group.
And…fuck. I thought I’d gotten myself under control, but I was thankful my suit jacket hid the worst of my erection.
There were a few of my teammates Berkley had yet to meet, so I made introductions, my cheeks heating as they gave me endless shit about her. Berkley, for her part, took it all in stride. She handled herself so perfectly—honestly better than I’d expected—and it was easy to imagine a thousand more nights just like this one, working some Warriors’ sanctioned event with her on my arm.
Eventually, individual conversations broke out, Berkley chatting with Rat and Grey about their rookie contracts. It was just as well, me being excluded, because all I could think about was her, and trying to make conversation would’ve been a lesson in futility. The way her warm scent wrapped around me, even in this room full of people. I wondered where that scent was strongest: at her wrists or her neck? I wanted to explore every inch of her body, learn how she smelled—and tasted—all over.
Even when she moved away, excusing herself to go to the bathroom, then moving around the room when she returned, simply taking it all in, I somehow knew exactly where she was at all times. Like an invisible string now stretched between us, connecting us in a way no one else would ever see but we could still feel.
“I like her,” Mitch said when he sidled up next to me, both of us staring across the room at Berkley, where she’d stopped to speak with the rep from one of the Warriors’ biggest adult beverage sponsors. “I like her a lot.”
“Me, too,” I said. Actually, I more than liked her.
“I think she’s good for you. Don’t fuck it up.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.”
“Won’t what?” Berkley asked when she joined them.
“Fuck this up,” I answered honestly.
“This?”
“Us,” I amended.
Blush spread over Berkley’s face and crept down her neck. She turned her head away from me, and I gripped her hand.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. This is just…a lot.”
“If it makes you feel better, you’re doing great, and I’m really happy you’re here. It’s nice to have someone at my side.”
Surprise lined her features when she looked at me again. “You’ve never brought a date to one of these things?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“I…” I released her hand and awkwardly scratched the back of my neck. “This isn’t really the place for this conversation.”
“Right, sorry,” she said. “I’m in law school. I’ve turned being nosy into an art form. Forget I asked.”
“No, it’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” I assured her. “It’s just…I don’t want to talk about this here. Just trust me when I tell you you’re the first girl I’ve ever wanted to bring to one of these things.”
Her eyebrows shot up briefly before her expression settled into the sweetest, shyest smile she’d ever given me. With me, Berkley had been a great number of things—she was the type of girl who wore her emotions plainly; I’d learned that quickly. She’d been sassy, tipsy and flirty, mildly irritated, awed, and even a little worried and stressed. But never shy.
I decided I loved it. That pretty blush that spread to her cheeks had me wanting to press my mouth to her warmth, to move my lips elsewhere and make her blush for entirely different reasons.
“Are you ready to go?” she whispered to me sometime later, giving my hand an imploring squeeze.
“God, yes.” The response was abrupt—probably because I’d wanted to leave since the second we’d arrived; in fact, since the moment she’d opened her door and I’d looked my fill of her in that dress, I hadn’t wanted to come at all. Berkley barked out a laugh, attracting curious looks from nearby partygoers.
After brief goodbyes and a pitstop to collect our coats, we were stepping out onto the street. I inhaled deeply, the chilled air a much needed shock to my senses. Nights like tonight made a man do crazy things, and I knew I had a habit of coming on a little strong sometimes. The Gala had been enjoyable, if only because I had Berkley by my side, and she’d handled herself perfectly. It had my mind whirring with all kinds of wild thoughts.
But the last thing I wanted to do was push Berkley away by moving too quickly. I wanted her to take the lead, to decide how fast or slow we took this thing.
“So…your place or mine?” she asked.
I raised a brow. “You want to go home together?”
She shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
“What did I tell you about being one hundred percent certain about these kinds of things?”
“I believe you told me you’d have me begging for you,” she said as she stepped closer, the warmth of her soft body instantly undoing all the head clearing the fresh air had provided. “Do I need to get on my knees on this sidewalk?”
I nearly choked. This girl continued to surprise me.
“A simple ‘please’ would suffice.”
“Please,” she said. “Take me back to your place.”
And who was I to tell her no?
We were all roaming hands, sloppy kisses, and impatient noises as we fell through the door of my apartment ten minutes later. Before we’d even made it out of the hall and into the open kitchen and living room. Berkley’s coat was on the floor, pushed off her shoulders by my greedy hands.
Sense returned for a moment as I stepped away to study her, all heaving chest, blown pupils, and hands reaching for me.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I said, smiling when that blush I loved spread across her cheeks. “Where should I start, Blondie?” I stepped closer and reached out, trailing a single finger along the smooth line of a collarbone. “How about here?” My mouth replaced my finger as my hand trailed lower, over her chest, coming to rest on the swell of her left breast, brushing a thumb over her nipple, which had pebbled under my touch. “Or here?” Again, my mouth followed the path of my hand, flicking the tip of her tightened peak with my tongue through the fabric of her dress. Lower still I moved, until she gasped when my fingers brushed her exposed thigh. “Or how about all the way down here?”
She was practically vibrating now, panting, needy little noises escaping her mouth, and I could no longer deny her—or myself. Settling my hands low on her hips, her tiny enough and my hands large enough that my fingers splayed across her lower back and ass, I tugged her against my body and slanted my mouth over hers.
Tongues tangling, hands fisted in hair, breaths mingling—we were nothing but sensation.
“What do you want, Berk?” I asked against her lips. “Do you want where this is going?”
“I…” She drew in a sharp breath when I settled my mouth over the smooth skin where her shoulder curved up to her neck and sucked, scraping my teeth and tongue over the sting. “I want this—eventually.”
Like I’d been doused in a bucket of ice water, I pulled away. “You…don’t want me?”
Fuck, I hated how needy I sounded.
Berkley huffed out a disbelieving laugh. “Wanting you isn’t the problem, Brent. Have you seen yourself? I’d be fucking crazy not to take whatever you’re willing to give me.”
“Everything,” I said without thinking. “I’ll give you everything.”
Her lips twitched with a small smile. “I just don’t want us to move too fast. We’ve only been hanging out for like a month. We’re still getting to know each other, and I know from personal experience that adding sex to the equation too soon is a recipe for disaster.”
Hurt flashed across her crystal blue eyes, and I was once again gripped by the desire to kill whoever gave her the memory associated with it. One way or another, I’d get the whole story, but tonight wasn’t the time to push her.
Instead, I bent and kissed her softly, then stepped away, lacing our fingers together. “Let’s go to bed. Just sleeping.”
“That’s it?” She sounded surprised, and that further irritated me. It appeared Lexie had been right when she’d told me Berkley’s dating history was a disaster. Add that to the list of wrongs I intended to set right.
“That’s it, Berk. If you don’t want to take things further tonight, we don’t have to. I’m happy just knowing I get to wake up next to you tomorrow morning.”
“That’s…refreshing.”
I stopped in the threshold of my bedroom and gripped her upper arms lightly, waiting until she met my gaze to speak. “I don’t know who you’ve been with before me, or what you’ve gone through, but I can promise you’re safe with me. And I know my personal life has been splashed all over gossip rags, and that you’ve probably read every sordid rumor and detail, but that’s all behind me now. Can you trust me when I tell you there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here with you?”
Berkley gnawed on her lower lip, and I pried it free from her teeth, brushing my thumb over the spot.
“Yeah,” she breathed at last. “I trust you.”
Good,” I said. “Now let’s get you out of this dress.”
“What if I wanted to sleep in it?” she quipped, and I smiled, relaxing as the tension of the last few minutes melted away with her words.
“I mean…you could,” I said as we moved into my room. I withdrew a t-shirt from my dresser, holding it up for inspection. “But I guarantee you’ll be more comfortable in this.”
“If I put that on,” she said as she stalked toward me, her tiny feet making soft shushing sounds against the carpet, “you’re never getting it back.”
The shirt I’d pulled out was one of my old Warriors tees, formerly deep blue with a bright red Warriors’ logo, now faded significantly thanks to all the times I’d worn and washed it. On the back, the white lettering of my last name and number was cracked and peeling off in some places.
“It’s yours,” I said, and she took it, shooting me a little grin over her shoulder as she padded into the bathroom to change.
Everything is yours.