Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
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Shock doesn’t stop me from kissing her back, and as soon as our mouths touch, it feels nothing like our previous kisses.
The sensation is mind-blowing, like she’s uncorked some kind of secret sensuality that sends a buzz through me, exploding all over, everywhere my tongue meets hers, where my hands caress her curves.
My head feels like a freshly corked bottle of champagne when the top blows off, shooting into another universe.
Her breathing is as heavy as mine, and I feel her enthusiasm in her hands as she runs them through my hair, and the whimpering moan that seems to come from her depths when I take her bottom lip between my teeth to claim her.
Her mouth wanders eagerly down my jawline, and I try to catch my breath, try to catch up with her and where her head’s at.
“What’s all this about, honeybuns?” I whisper as I lick her irresistibly soft earlobe, pristine and innocent without perfume or earrings or piercings of any kind.
The thudding in my chest speeds up in appreciation for her authenticity, her complete lack of guile—except she hasn’t answered my question.
I pull back enough to look at her, and the startling absence of her hot mouth on my skin jars me. “I thought we were platonic? I thought you didn’t want to—”
“I changed my mind.” Her eyes hold a question as if she’s asking my permission, and I smile.
“Bianca, you can always change your mind. About anything at any time.” I inhale a shaky breath and take her face in my hands, needing to touch her soft skin.
There’s a slight tremble in my hands and a question floats through my head about whether the tremble is from my concussion or…
something else. I let the question fade away unanswered.
“Are you sure you want to have sex?” I need to hear her say it. The tremble in my hands intensifies. Shit. What the hell is wrong with me? I’m never hesitant like this. And I never fucking tremble.
She nods her head vigorously. “I know it’s um, surprising that I’ve changed my mind, but I feel close to you, like it’s natural to want you, to want to, um…”
“Jump my bones?” I supply, my casual words belying the wild leap in my chest like my heart turned into an Olympic high-jumping frog. My brow furrows as all her words sink in. “What do you mean you feel close to me?”
Her cheeks heat up and turn pink so fast it’s like I turned a switch, and I remove my hands to give her space.
“I mean that we share something. We have a connection.” She stops abruptly like she’s holding her breath and stares at me with the kind of admiration and hope that nearly drowns out the spark of desire underneath.
“A connection.” I repeat, trying to digest her words, to figure out if her feelings are harmless or—not.
“Do you feel it too?”
My mind blanks, and I do what I always do at a time like this, when emotions rise to the surface and I don’t want to handle them, or in this case, I have no idea how. I caress her face and lower my mouth to hers to demonstrate the kind of connection I feel.
I take over her mouth with alarming intensity, as if I’m trying to prove a point, and I may be losing some control because what’s my point? When our mouths finally part, we both heave in gulps of air, and I find her fingers clamped on my shoulders as if she’s holding on for dear life.
As I suck in air and take in her face, soft and bright and hungry, the reason she’s off-limits hits me upside the head like a cold smack.
She’s not off-limits because of Jett’s warning.
She’s off-limits for the reason Jett warned me away from her.
She’s innocent and vulnerable and the kind of woman who needs—and deserves—a guy who’s serious about her, who will treasure her, not a guy like me who wants to drain every last drop of pleasure from her and then move on to the next woman.
That’s what I’ve always done. Since my first time with Nora. She’s the lesson I learned about romantic relationships, and I learned it well. Love ‘em and leave ‘em—using the term love strictly in the carnal sense.
And I can’t do that to Brooks. She’s my agent. She’s good and efficient and smart—and yes, she’s also hot as hell and seemingly wantonly willing as she wriggles closer to me.
Fuck. She feels so good nestled against me.
“I’m serious, Brody. I want you. Here. Now.”
I hear the unspoken words that come across in her expression, in everything she is—before I change my mind.
Double fuck. I can’t do it. She will change her mind and literally hate me—and probably herself—in the morning. Then I’ll have an emotional disaster on my hands. And Jett will have my balls for breakfast.
With all the gentleness I can muster, I pull away from her, trailing a regretful finger down her cheek and feeling every ounce of the disappointment as I do.
“I’m sorry, Honey—I mean Brooks. Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
The look of shocked horror, then humiliation on her face is going to stay with me forever, but I turn away quickly and push myself out of bed.
“Please don’t go, don’t leave things… like this.” Her voice is strained with sadness, but there’s resignation underneath preventing the threat of tears.
Turning back to face her, I sit on the edge of the bed because she has a point.
She deserves a full explanation no matter how sick to my stomach the idea of handling her tangled emotions makes me.
I caused her disappointment and feelings of rejection, and that makes me feel as if I’m now trying to literally handle her guts after ripping them out.
But we need to come to an understanding, one not confused by our lust-haze for both our sakes.
“Sugar pie, you don’t want to toy with me. I’m not good enough for you. I’m the guy who doesn’t believe in love or marriage, remember?”
She sniffs once and then rolls her eyes. I almost laugh because that’s so Brooks.
“Don’t give me that cliché. I don’t need you to be noble on my behalf. I’m a big girl and I absolutely want to toy with you. Why shouldn’t I? I’m a red-blooded woman, not a virgin saint.” She heaves a sigh.
“What about our professional relationship and the fake marriage deal?” I want to ask her what Jett would think, but he doesn’t have a right to know about her personal life. Or mine.
“I’ve thought about all that and I’ve concluded that the chance to toy with you could be the best part of this marriage charade. I’m a hundred percent in favor of it. And if you haven’t noticed, I’m really, really looking forward to it.”
My grin is the kind of reflexive reaction that I couldn’t stop if I wanted to, like a knee jerk in response to a rubber hammer.
She adds, “Forget whatever I said before. I was… afraid.”
My brows rise. “Afraid?” That raises a new level of concern.
She waves a hand. “Forget I said that too. Forget everything before now.” Her eyes glitter with honest bald desire. “Please.”
If her heartfelt plea didn’t undo me, the breathy way she says it would. Either way, she doesn’t wait for my answer.
She proceeds to do a damn good job of taking things into her own hands to solve the problem in a typical Brooks can-do move. Launching herself at me, she wraps her arms around me, pushing me down to the mattress and straddling me.
“What the fuck?” I’m half laughing, stunned at her determination. I’m also turned on, and my dick goes as hard as the Hope diamond when she wiggles her hips against it. I let out an involuntary groan.
She giggles and leans closer, bringing her face to mine for a kiss, then stops. She hovers a whisper away. We both lie still, and I wait for her to say what’s on her mind, but we stare at each other, breathing, and for an instant, my stomach feels like it’s been sucked hollow.
Is it possible she’s run out of steam or bravery or whatever fueled her bold rebellion against good sense?
Taking hold of her, I roll over and pin her under me. The bedclothes are tangled around her, but I can still feel her heat and the give of her flesh under my hands as I move them along her curves.
Nuzzling her neck because I can’t resist the temptation, I whisper, “Do you have any idea how hot and hard you’ve made me, Brooks?”
“I think I have some idea.” She moves her hips against me.
I hold in my groan this time, but my control is on the edge, and letting go of another groan will send me over.
I clench my jaw. “Take it easy, Brooks,” I rasp the words and grip her hips to still her, counting backwards from a hundred as if I’m about to go under, anything to distract my cock and retrieve some control.
“A quick slam isn’t what I have in mind for us. I want to watch you come at least twice before I lose it.”
“Twice?” Her voice squeaks with doubt, but her eyes gleam. Then she licks her lips, and I squeeze my eyes shut. It does no good. I can’t unsee the sexy image of her pink tongue running over her plump lips. “Shit.”
“Are you okay?” She sounds concerned for real, and I laugh.
“I’m too okay, but don’t you worry about it.” I nibble her ear, and then with superhuman effort—no exaggeration—I push myself off her.
She reaches for me, trying to hold on. “I thought you said two—”
I smile and tense my muscles to hold back while everything in me is screaming to go full throttle because her eagerness is so fucking hot.
“I need to ask you one last time, honey pants,” I rasp, sounding too much like I want to ravage her. I soften my voice, “Are you sure?”
She nods.
“I need to hear you say it. Without mixed feelings. No room for regrets here, Brooks.”
“I want you so bad, Brody. I would never forgive you if you don’t take me right now.”
Holy shit. Take her? “Then I will, honey pants.” My chest tightens, and I don’t know what that’s all about, but I know what she wants. Unequivocally.
“Let’s get these covers untangled and these clothes off.” I throw off the comforter. With some breathing room, my dick calms down a fraction, and I peel off my t-shirt. I enjoy the starved look on her face as she watches me. Then she pulls at her nightgown, and I put my hand over hers to stop her.
“Let me do it.” My voice is back to raspy, and the tension in my balls escalates all over again as I reach for the buttons of her nightgown. I concentrate hard on her face, her beautiful kind eyes, her trusting innocence, and my hands fumble for a beat.
But I keep going because we both want this, need this. Our marriage may be fake, but our chemistry is frighteningly real. Fighting our attraction for the next few weeks would be a lost cause now that we’re here—the point of no return.
Clothes are strewn carelessly until both of us are naked.
I kneel between her legs, and I run my eyes over her, taking in every last bit of her creamy skin, her luxurious curves, and the wanton look on her face.
Cupping the heavy mounds of her breasts, I almost salivate, but I hold myself in check and stick to the program.
I know how to please a woman. My well-honed choreography has never let anyone down, and I’m not going to veer from it now.
I don’t want to cheat Brooks out of everything I have to offer.
She moans and reaches for me, grabbing hold of my dick with a look that says she’s having me for dinner. In this moment, if the big bad wolf were a woman, her name would be Bianca Brooks.
I quickly still her hand with mine, desperate to hold onto my control. “Not so fast, sugar pants. This is my dinner party, and you’re the first course.”
The feeling of satisfaction I get when her eyes go wide with lusty anticipation makes my balls sizzle, and I suck in a quick breath.
How fucking good will it feel when I make her come, watch her face in the throes of orgasm, taste her O-honey on my tongue, and feel the creamy clench of her around me?
Forgetting my plan for the long torturous descent of my tongue from her nipples to her pussy, I lower my face past her belly and clutch her ass cheeks in my hands, groaning at the fucking heady full feel of them, like perfect round pillows of flesh.
I look up at her. “I want to eat you so badly.”
Her eyes blink and her mouth opens, and when that sexy mouth quivers with excitement and her skin turns to fire in my hands, I don’t care what the fuck my usual moves are.
I lower my face between her legs as I lift her ass upward until her pussy meets my mouth, and I taste her in a long heart-stopping lick, breathing in the arousing scent of her, swallowing and then devouring all her honey like she’s a delicious gourmet dessert.