9. Brooke
9
brOOKE
W hen I enter the condo, two suitcases rest by the door—both mine. Already packed, my coat hanging on one of them.
When I moved in, I knew there would be an expiry date on my living here. I had put one on it myself in the form of the calendar I’d crossed days off on for an entire month.
But since we started hooking up, I’d forgotten that this wasn’t really my home.
My stomach free-falls.
Waffles trots over from his bed in the corner, looking between me and the luggage as if asking the same question I am.
When Miles appears in sweatpants and no shirt, no bags in sight, it deepens my unease.
“What’s all this?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He bends to scratch Waffles’s ears, looking relaxed as anything. “Valentine’s Day. I wanted to go big.”
“Eviction?”
He laughs as he straightens. “A date. One with a little commute.”
The knot in my gut loosens, and I can breathe again. Now I’m intrigued—by the possibilities and the boyish grin on his face. “You planned a travel date?” There are two days left before the season resumes.
“I got us tickets to New York Fashion Week.”
My jaw drops. “Are you joking?”
I’ve never been because the timing didn’t work out between school and other commitments, but it’s always been a dream.
“Nope.” Miles crosses to me and cups my face. “I wanted to do better than the club after the all-star game. My memory of that night is spotty at best. Please tell me I wasn’t a huge asshole.”
I pretend to consider. “Only a moderate asshole.”
“Fuck.” Miles rubs a hand over his face. “I’m sorry. I bet you didn’t have sitting by my bed for two days in your plans for the week. I heard you never left my side.”
“All kinds of crazy things can happen to a defenseless man in Vegas.”
“Well, I’m glad you happened to me first, Brooke Ellis.” His crooked grin makes my heart skip.
No one has ever been this thoughtful before. Everyone asks me to do things for them—Kevin, my sorority sisters, my mom, even my brother.
“Speaking of which, I’m feeling exceptionally well rested,” he goes on.
I lift my chin, brushing my fingers along the stubble of his jaw. “Then you’ll be able to practice with the team as planned.”
“Not thinking about the team right now.”
A little shiver ripples across my skin.
Since we first got together, the longest we’ve gone without hooking up was a four-day road trip. I was seriously distracted and, according to Miles, he was in “actual hell.”
At least we had video calls to tide us over.
Over the past week, I’ve been deliberately cautious around him physically because he was supposed to be recovering. He’s been trying to drag me into bed with him, and I’ve resisted, insisting he’s supposed to rest so he can get back to playing ball.
His phone rings, and he glances at it. “Agent,” he says and answers it.
I play with Waffles while Miles talks.
When he hangs up, his smile is gone.
“I can’t go to New York today.”
“You can’t come on our date?” It should be impossible for a girl who thought she was getting evicted or dumped or both two minutes ago to sound this incredulous.
“We have to meet my shoe sponsor this morning.”
I turn it over. “Then we won’t go. I don’t want to spend it without you.”
He scoops me up in his arms and kisses me. I thread my fingers into his hair.
“I have an idea. Take Ruby. I’ll meet you there once I’m done.”
“You got that great idea while you were kissing me?”
“I get a lot of great ideas when I’m kissing you.”
“I hope this is up to your standards.”
“I was covered in blood six hours ago. This is very civilized,” Ruby says as we get up from the first fashion show, collecting the gift bags we got when we entered. She turns over a makeup compact in her hand. “Givenchy? Nice.”
We head for a cute lounge that’s already packed thanks to the week’s activities. Ruby shifts onto a seat at a high-top table. Her black pantsuit is perfectly chic. No matter what she says about living in scrubs, she cleans up impeccably.
“Did you decide about the new job?” I arrange myself on a stool across from my friend and we order drinks. It’s fun to get dressed up and rub shoulders with a fashionable set.
“I’m going to take it.”
“That’s amazing!”
“I’m finishing out the month here, then I’ll start in March with the new role. I’m still afraid it will eat into my already-limited free time.”
Around us, tables of patrons buzz. I catch snippets of conversation—behind us, magazine editors are discussing a new shoot.
“If you were a guy, you wouldn’t even think about it.”
“I know, but I’m not. I want to spend time with my kids.”
“Tim’s going to have to man up and do more.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. How about you? Are you working on any new brand partnerships?”
I sip my drink. “With Vivaro still investigating internally, whatever that means, it’s harder to land deals. I don’t have regular money coming in.”
As generous as Miles has been, insisting he can cover both our living expenses, I want to pay my own way.
“I’m still thinking about this job Chloe offered me with the Kodiaks,” I say.
“I bet a lot of people would love to work with the world champions. Does working for the team excite you?”
We’re surrounded by people collaborating, friends and colleagues from all over the world, all at the top of their game and thrilled to be here and doing what they’re passionate about. They’re carving out new directions, breaking new ground.
“Yes and no,” I say. “It’s a good opportunity. It’s not as if I have dozens of job offers.”
Ruby frowns. “The most enthusiastic I’ve seen you was working on campaigns for the Kappas, or hearing you talk about Nova’s art career. One of the reasons I knew we’d be friends was because you cared about contributing to a cause that was bigger than yourself.”
“I thought it was because there were hardly any Black girls and we had the same taste in shoes.”
She laughs. “It does help, having that conviction you’re making a difference. When the days are rough, I remind myself of a patient I helped who would have been worse off otherwise.”
“The exhaustion melts away?” I ask wryly, though my heart warms at the thought of how my friend helps people.
“No. But it feels good enough that when the alarm goes off the next morning, I get up.” My friend winks. “When is Miles getting in?”
“Landing at five. He’s meeting me for dinner. I haven’t heard how his sponsor call went.”
“How are things going? You’re living together and dating in the open. That’s a big deal.”
I bite my lip. “It was easier back when we were sneaking around—before he got his shoe deal and named to the all-star game, and before I took up this cause as the defender of online creators or whatever.”
“You’ve got big-girl problems now, like what happened after the all-star game.” She cocks her head. “I was worried about you guys.”
I tell her about the ketamine they found in Miles’s system.
“You think someone drugged him?” Ruby’s gaze sharpens. “I see it all the time. People come into the ER. It’s too easy.”
“It could have been an accident. Right?”
“Sure.” Ruby’s mouth parts. “What does Miles think happened?”
“He brushes it off. I think he wants so badly to get back to normal. We haven’t really talked about it.”
My big sis folds her arms. “Maybe it’s time you do.”
“Holy hell.”
Miles’s reaction is worth every second I spent getting my hair and makeup done before our date. My hair is half pinned up, the rest falling in waves down my back. My dress ends high on my thighs, and my four-inch heels mean I barely have to tilt up my chin to meet his gaze as I lean back against the side of the limo.
“You clean up good, Princess.”
I take him in as he crosses the distance between us. His cocky smile is sexy as sin.
He looks delicious himself, his lean legs clad in dark jeans. A zip-up knit sweater a few shades darker than his eyes clings to strong shoulders, the hard planes of his chest and abs. His jaw is sharp, his hair waving across his forehead.
A few passengers outside the airport recognize him, pointing as they pass. A couple snap discreet pics.
“Miles Garrett!” one calls.
He offers a quick wave and a genuine smile.
My heart kicks. I love that he makes time for his fans, that none of it’s fake.
“We could go directly to the hotel. Forget the event,” Miles murmurs against my neck as he turns back to me.
I pretend to debate. “But I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” His eyes glint wickedly.
“What does Miles think happened?” Ruby’s words play in my head.
Now that Miles is here, I realize how much stress we’ve both been under.
Miles’s grin settles on me. For the first time in days, he looks genuinely happy.
I won’t let Ruby’s question into our date, our night.
“You’re having a good season. Don’t lose focus!” a fan calls from behind him.
His smile doesn’t falter, but I know he clocks it as he takes my hand and tugs me into the back of the limo.
Every day, hour, second, we’ve been apart this week feels as if it piles on me at once. It’s more than the distance—it’s the added worry I’ve been feeling about him, wanting to fix it but not being able to.
He pulls me into his lap and kisses me, hard and deep. His palm slides up my thigh.
“We should really go back to the hotel.” His words are a throaty promise.
Maybe we should, judging from the way his fingers on the back of my neck make heat pool in my stomach.
“This party has some up-and-coming designers.” I moan against his mouth as my hands tangle in his hair. “Plus, I already gave the driver the address.”
“Well, fuck. What’re we going to do?” he groans.
My body is already humming with him, vibrating with need.
His touch is filled with urgency. The laid-back Miles Garrett from a moment ago, smiling at fans, is gone. This version is even sexier, because he’s completely strung out over me.
“Can we…” I trail off as his hand slips between my thighs and brushes where I’m throbbing.
Miles buzzes down the partition and tears his mouth from mine. I think he’s about to argue when he says, “Take the long way.”
“It’s Manhattan, sir. Every way is the long way.”
Miles chuckles as he buzzes the divider back up.
“Now we have a minute to catch up.” His hands grip my hips as he shifts me to straddle him. The dress tugs against my thighs, riding up around my ass. “How was your day?”
“That’s what you wanted to do when you got me alone.” My hand fists in his sweater as I take him in.
“Mhmm. I want to know everything.” Miles’s fingers shift up my thighs, tugging my legs farther apart. Pleasure spikes through me as I rest on him, feeling him already hard through his jeans and the thin fabric of my panties.
“My boyfriend got me and my friend tickets to Fashion Week and flew here in time to meet me for dinner. Yours?”
“Got through a dry as hell meeting about logistics and projections and bonuses.”
I love that Miles thinks talking about money is boring.
“Been thinking about you for hours,” he groans.
Satisfaction blooms deep within me, twining with nowhere-near-satiated need.
“Only hours?” I work the button open and the fly down on his jeans.
His breathing gets shallow. “Days. Months. Fucking years I’ve been thinking of you, Princess.”
Emotion and need war in my chest.
His fingers slide beneath my thong. Pleasure collides with feelings that are stronger, more powerful, than any I’ve felt.
“Hate to mess you up,” he groans as he tugs it and my bra down, his thumbs grazing my nipples. “You look like you belong here.”
My heart kicks. “I’ve had people my entire life tell me I don’t look like I belong. I know deep down that I do, but I get tired of reminding myself.”
His lips brush mine. “You’re a fucking queen, Brooke Ellis.” When they come back again, they cling, and I lose myself in the taste of him.
“I was worried about you this week,” I admit when we part an inch.
He groans. “I’m sorry. I think being there got inside my head a little. I can’t take it back, but I can show you I’m here now, that we’re okay. Sound good?”
I nod slowly.
“I like you dressed up, but…” He reaches for the pins in my hair. “I like you even better dressed down.”
Miles waits for permission. He knows how important it is to me to look put together—that I’m not sure who I am when I can’t control the narrative.
“Do it.”
Without asking twice, he yanks fistfuls of pins out of my hair, drags my lips against his, and devours me with hunger.
Yes. This is what I want. The need, the storm.
But more than that, it’s knowing that he sees me, that he believes in me and has my back.
It’s everything.
His fingers slid between us, inside me.
Every thought flies out of my head. Pleasure spirals through me, starting at my core and spinning out into a need that’s all-consuming. How is it possible to be so satisfied and so needy at once? I never knew it was possible before this man. This moment.
I need more of him. All of him.
He groans against my mouth. His other hand grips my ass, grinding me down on him.
He’s already so deep, and it’s only his fingers. It’s true what they say about big hands, but he also knows how to use them. It’s as if someone gave him a playbook of exactly how to make me writhe.
“Come on me,” he groans. “Come on me and I’ll fuck you properly.”
Miles pulls back long enough to add a third finger. I arch against him, inhaling sharply at the feel of him. The scent of him, of us, fills the car. He rubs his thumb across my clit, and I’m so close.
I explode, crying out as my arms tighten around his neck.
“That’s it, Princess. So beautiful.”
He waits for me to come back to Earth, my damp forehead pressed against his neck. But I’m aware of his cock between us, twitching. I’m satisfied, but it’s not enough.
My hips arch, sliding lazily over him.
Miles’s laugh is tortured. “How long do you think you can do that for?”
“Long as I want,” I say tartly.
His tip slips inside, making me gasp. He grabs my arms and shifts me back. “Wait. Condom.”
The reaction is automatic. But as I watch him search his pockets, looking rumpled and determined and increasingly desperate, a better idea forms.
“Or… we could not.”
He stills, all that attention going straight back onto me. “You sure?”
There’s not enough air in the limo. A second ago we were fine, but there’s a weight on my chest, my lungs.
I don’t leave myself exposed with anyone. But with Miles, I’m not trying to scratch an itch.
I don’t only want him. I want us.
“So sure,” I whisper.
We’ve talked before about having been tested since either of us was with anyone else.
The way his face transforms…
He positions me over him, the head of his cock teasing me as I rock back and forth. Then he tugs me down.
Oh, damn.
Anyone who says size is all that matters is full of shit, but the feeling of him filling me, stretching me, coupled with the tug in my chest when he looks in my eyes, is beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.
“Fuck, you take me so good.” He groans, kneading my ass. “So tight and wet with nothing between us.”
“I dreamed about this one night,” I confess.
“I dream about this every night.”
At first, I’m riding him, but soon he’s lifting and lowering me.
In this car, there are no cameras. There’s no Kevin or my mom. Nothing and no one can get inside.
My nails rake under his sweater and T-shirt, making his skin shiver as his abs flex. I squeeze him, hard. He hisses out a breath and shoots me a look like he knows exactly what I’m doing.
“Oh, that’s how we’re going to do this? You want me to come first?”
“Only fair,” I murmur.
Then he hooks a hand under my knee, lifting it so my shin presses his chest. “Agree to disagree, Princess.”
He pulls out and strokes back in. I gasp. The new angle makes the fit even tighter. He just upped the ante.
“Don’t stop now,” he challenges, a tight grin on his face.
I grind against him, taking him as deep as I can. I want to make him come, but it’s dangerous work. Everything I do to torment him only brings me closer to the edge.
The feel of him is exquisite. Combined with our damp skin, the scent of his aftershave, his low rasping breath, and him stroking my clit, I’m nearly lost to pleasure.
Then the next stroke, he trembles a little. I sense my advantage and tug his lip between my teeth, feeling him twitch inside me.
“You know you want to,” I murmur against his lips.
“Almost as much as you do.” His thumb presses where I’m sensitive.
It’s a war, one I’d die to fight.
“Together?” he offers.
I try to hold out an extra second but fail. When his muscles clench and I feel him spurt inside me, I gasp into his neck as my own climax overtakes me.
“What did you in?” I ask as my heart rate comes back down a little.
“The realization that you’re going to feel me inside you all night.” His wicked grin makes my breath catch. He hesitates. “Brooke, for real, that was incredible.”
“Yeah, it was.” I’m still breathless, but it’s from being near him as much as from what we just did. “You’re going to need a change of clothes.”
“Brought one in my bag in case.” Miles eyes the space around us doubtfully.
“You’d get changed in the back of a limo for me?” I tease.
His lips twitch as his gaze flicks back to mine. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Look who it is.” Elise cuts through the crowd, eyes wide with sincere surprise.
The party is being hosted at a SoHo loft by a big magazine editor. I didn’t expect to run into Elise here.
“You look wonderful.”
“You too.” I’m flushed, my hair cascading around my face, but my lipstick is on point.
“You’re going to feel me inside you all night.”
He wasn’t wrong. As I shift on my feet, I feel the first ache from what we did.
I don’t look at Miles, but I sense him at my side.
“I’ll give you ladies a second,” he says, brushing his lips over my cheek. “Let me know if you need backup.”
“Thanks.” I shoot him a look of sincere gratitude.
Miles heads to the bar, where he’s instantly accosted. He gamely agrees to snap a couple of selfies.
“Your new line is stunning. How are things going with your new brand rep?” I ask.
Her smile fades a little. “I suppose it’s somewhat ironic that you two are still together while Caroline’s relationship was called off.”
I don’t even try to look surprised, as though I didn’t hear about Caroline and Kevin. “If you’re rethinking what you decided about us collaborating…”
She laughs. “That’s jumping from one problem to another. With partnerships, you’re tying yourself to another person and their opinions and everyone else around them. I understand you boyfriend is still a contentious figure.”
“Why?” I’m startled that she still sees Miles that way.
Elise makes a noncommittal shrug. “My husband said he made headlines for partying.”
I start to argue, but stop myself. There’s no point. The media will make of it what they want.
“So what, I should convince you Caroline is worse?” I ask lightly.
“Do you want to?”
There are a dozen things I could point out from the way Caroline’s treated me in the past, but I still feel for her getting dumped and I’m tired of feeding into some narrative, real or fake.
“No. I think she cares about your brand, and when she cares, she’s very motivated,” I say.
“That’s decent of you,” Elise says after a moment. “If there’s anything I can do to help you, let me know.”
I think fast since I’m not sure when I’ll see my former sorority sister next and land on Nova’s new work. “I’m helping a friend structure new partnership agreements, and I wonder if you’d be willing to share some examples from your business. From one Kappa to another.”
This time, there’s no hesitation. “Follow up with Sarah on my team. I’ll send you her number.”
I swap cheek kisses with Elise and watch her disappear into the crowd.
I go in search of my boyfriend. I find him inspecting a silver gown on a mannequin. “Bridal collection,” I offer.
“It’s moody.”
“It’s a risk,” I agree. “Let me guess—you hate it.”
“It’s the only wedding dress I’ve ever looked twice at, so apparently not.”
I try to push the conversation with Elise from my mind. “You want to get married someday, Garrett?”
He’s quiet. “If you’d asked me a year ago, I would’ve said no.”
I think back to what he told me about his parents and their divorce—how he ended up the ammunition in their hostile war.
“And now?”
The question shouldn’t feel loaded, but it does. Suddenly, I’m picturing me walking down the aisle, and I was never the little girl who imagined those things.
I’m exposed again, more so than being naked in the limo.
Because I’m afraid he’ll think that’s what I want.
I’m afraid I’ll realize it’s what I do want.
“Maybe.”
My heart skips.
“I thought marriage made people worse versions of themselves,” he says. “I couldn’t see a relationship making people better.”
I take a few steps around the gown, taking in the beautiful details. It’s unique and striking.
“What if relationships don’t make people better or worse, they only expose more of who you truly are?”
He frowns, oddly serious for once. “Then I’d choose to be with someone who sees as much of me as possible and likes me anyway. And I’d want to see every part of them.”
Standing on a pedestal next to the gown is a bouquet full of anemones, their white petals soft around a deep blue center.
“Including their cracks?”
“Yeah. I mean, the cracks are where the flowers grow.” Miles reaches behind me to lift a flower from the vase and hold it out.
“Pretty sure that’s not allowed.”
A half smile plays on his lips. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
My breath catches as I take it from him.
“Every girl and half the guys in here would be happy to be with you. Even before you started talking like that.”
Miles is handsome and fun but what no one sees is how startlingly sweet he is. How thoughtful and caring.
He wraps an arm around me and holds up his phone, snapping a photo.
“What was that for?”
“Show ‘em I’m with you.” He posts it to social and tags me with a flower and a blue heart emoji. “Best place I’ve ever been, by the way,” he adds.
“You’ve played in an all-star game.”
“Said what I said.”
My heart does a little flip.
If there’s a casual response to that, I don’t know what it is.
He’s taken me prisoner with a grin and a flower, with his admissions that he’s always cared when other people treated me as disposable after getting what they wanted.
Going to the all-star game in his jersey and being seen at the club with him weren’t exactly being inconspicuous, but we’ve yet to fan the flames of speculation. This photo and caption are definitely going to do it.
“You ever want to reinvent yourself?” The words slip out before I can question them.
“All the time.” His earnest answer has me cutting a surprised look his way. “I love basketball, but don’t get me wrong, I dream about what else I want to do. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a zoologist. I think my chances are gone, but I hear you can still swim with the dolphins. What about you?”
“I wanted to be a surfer.”
He laughs, his bright eyes dancing.
I would feel embarrassed saying that to anyone else, but with him, I’m willing to take the heat. “I watched this competition once as a kid, and it looked so badass. Being one with nature, having it kick your ass until you learn to ride it… But I never spent enough time by the ocean, and it definitely wasn’t on the list of acceptable careers. There was no way to major in surfing in college. Now that I’m a grown-ass adult…”
I should be over it.
“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” he finishes.
Miles takes the flower back from me and tucks it gently behind my ear, sliding the stem into my hair before lowering his hands.
“We could do it, you know. The surfing. The swimming with the dolphins. We could do it together.”
His gaze searches mine.
I’m thinking about all-star weekend, recovering in the hotel room.
I’m thinking about someone doing that to him, possibly on purpose.
I’m thinking about how I can’t help being the person who thinks about those things.
“Yeah, we could,” I say.