TWENTY-SEVEN
“I DON’T KNOW which to ask first.”
After a stop to drop them off at her apartment, the Breckenridge parents continued their journey home.
In her bedroom, she freed her hair from its bounds. “You want to know how I met Quade?”
“And how you know my brother—or how he knows you?”
“Don’t worry,” she said, the zipper of her dress gliding loose until the fabric dropped from her body. “You’ve seen more than he has.”
“Is there a story?”
“Not really,” she said, putting her dress in a dry-cleaning bag. “It was a swimsuit thing I did a couple of years ago.”
“They called you Sizzle Girl?”
“It was written on the page. I told you I did modeling?”
“Yeah.”
“I was at a party and there was this photographer… anyway, I ended up in the Breckenridge catalog and later on, there was a calendar. It was just a stupid thing, but people used to request me for parties. You know our floor is members only?” He nodded. “Apparently, there was a boost in membership numbers and people would come in, men and women, to request me specifically.”
“Sizzle Girl.”
She shrugged it off with a smile. “I don’t know how Tripp knew about it.”
“Tripp knows things,” he said, casting off his jacket. “Especially when it comes to current fads and beautiful women. You didn’t want to pursue the opportunity elsewhere beyond Breckenridge?”
“Oh no,” she said as he undressed. “Jeremy hated it.”
“The Germ again?”
“At first, I thought he was being protective. Things went downhill from there. I don’t know why, how he thought it changed things between us. As far as I was concerned, it didn’t. Maybe it did change me, maybe I did crave the attention.”
“Hey,” he said, coming to gather her against him. “We’re not letting the asshole in, remember?”
“Do I flaunt myself? Is it something unconscious that I do? Am I a lush?”
“You are beautiful, Savanna. That doesn’t require any flaunting. But, no, you don’t seek attention, male or otherwise.”
“I’d never make a fool of you.” Sliding her hands higher, she linked her fingers at the back of his neck. “Tell me you know that.”
“I know that.” One arm stayed around her while he tucked her bangs from her forehead. “And you should know I’m not worried.”
“About me?”
“About other men.”
Her lips curved. “Because you’re a Breckenridge?”
“We always do it better,” he said and winked. “And I see the way you look at me.”
“Okay, Hot Stuff.”
Never had a man accepted her with such ease. It wasn’t until right then that she caught up with the truth of Darroch Breckenridge, of all the Breckenridge men. They were well adjusted. Honest. Honorable. And, by far, more secure in themselves than any other men she’d been in relationships with.
Spinning her around fast, he stole her breath. “You got it, baby.”
“Did you lock the door?” she asked when he backed her up against the bed.
“I locked the door.”
“Are you sure? Because—”
“Baby…” His embrace clamped tight. “No one will get near you while I’m here.”
Odd way to put it, maybe, but the break-in had freaked her out. So much so that she hadn’t slept there since it happened.
When he picked her up and laid her down, all worries and fears faded away. This man, the one above her, kissing her mouth and caressing her body, he was something unique. Cut and smoothed to fit exactly against her, in body, in soul, in every way a man and woman could be made for each other.
Thinking like that was dangerous. She’d kept an abstract hand firm against him, elbow locked, to save both her heart and her dignity. This was a Breckenridge, a man bold and strong, a man cradling control of her life in the palm of his hand. If she lost her job, if she couldn’t get a reference—
He would never do that to her. Never. The faith she had in him matched that she had in his mother. Alice raised her boys well, she gave them morals, decency—but, God, it was difficult to remember that when his hips moved against hers, when the thick length of him pressed hard against her, teasing her, daring her to beg for more.
And she wanted more than his lips on hers, on her body, tormenting her skin. They’d waited long enough, hadn’t they? They could give into the heat and arousal of endorphins electrifying every pore and hair.
Could Darroch be her forever man? Like the story Alice told, about her certainty over Benedict, had it felt like this? Despite that certainty, Alice held true, stayed strong, followed through to ensure the future was secure.
Grabbing his shoulders, instinct urged him away. “Darroch.”
“What?” he panted. “What’s wrong?”
“I just realized something.”
“What?” With that huffing need in his voice, he couldn’t really be listening or thinking straight. “Baby?”
Pushing him further away, she clambered out from under him to get to her feet. “I have to call your mom.”
“My mom? What are you—my mom?”
“Yes.”
“It’s late.” The couple would still be in the car on their way home. “She’ll panic and turn them around. Why do you need to call my mom?”
“She told me the story of her and your dad. That she loved your dad from the moment they met.”
“Yeah.”
As she paced the length of the bed and back, he sat, knees up to support his loose forearms.
“But she told him she wouldn’t have sex with him until they got married. Her mom warned her about men, about how they lose interest after the chase, after women give it up to them.”
“My grandma’s full of pearls of wisdom like that, why—” his frown relaxed from its confusion and quickly morphed to dread. “No.”
“Don’t you see?” She stopped. “She told me that story so I’d know; so I’d know to do the same. She told me so I wouldn’t be a cheap and easy date.”
He flew off the bed. “That is not why she told you that story.”
“Why else would she tell me that story?”
“To bond, I don’t know, girl talk.”
“Women like your mom, kind, positive women, they advise, pass on their experience, so younger women don’t make the same mistakes. Your grandmother passed that wisdom to her and she gave it to me.”
“That is not why Mom told you that story.” Though from the look on his face, he was coming to terms with the fact it wouldn’t happen for him. “Let’s call her.”
“You said it was too late.”
“When I thought I was getting lucky, this is an emergency situation.”
Valid point, though not the one he was making. “If you call her, you’ll scare her. She’ll think something is wrong.”
“Something is wrong.”
“You’re proving your grandmother’s point,” she said, fists rising to her hips.
He scooped them off to loosen her fingers in his. “Things were going so well…” he directed her arms around him to mosey up close. “We were relaxed…” she held the embrace when he let her go and raised her jaw with two loose fists. “Having fun…” he kissed her. “Being together.”
“I have to talk to your mom,” she said after his next kiss.
“If I don’t need my mom’s permission to have sex, you sure don’t.”
“Were your other girlfriends close to her?”
“No woman has ever asked my mom’s permission to have sex with me.”
“I’m not asking her permission, it’s more like… guidance.” When he tried to retreat, she pulled herself against him again. “This is a compliment.”
“Struggling to see it that way, babe.”
“I want you to stick around.” She kissed his torso. “I don’t want to lose you. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“Would be if you weren’t also implying I’m a shallow jerk only interested in getting lucky.”
“I don’t think that.” She laughed. He didn’t. She cleared her throat. “Your mom has taught me so much about valuing myself and how purpose can matter. Maybe I want to tell our future son’s future girlfriend how we got our start.”
“Hard to have a son if you won’t have sex with me,” he grumbled then threw both arms around her. “Whatever you want, Cherry.”
“Am I not worth the wait?”
“Whatever you want.” He kissed her again. “Happy wife…”
She smiled. “Thank you, Gentleman. You’ll still protect me?”
“Even more. I haven’t caught your pussy yet.”
When she shoved him, he pulled her onto the bed with him. Gentleman was right. Other guys may not be so understanding. The Breckenridge men really weren’t like any others.