Chapter 15 #2
My vocal cry only made him more eager. More determined. Like he had something to prove.
He learned my body and discovered the rhythm that made me mindless.
And when I felt the first tremors of my orgasm, I held on for dear life as pleasure was ripped from me.
I screamed, a primal cry of satisfaction.
There was no chance of keeping it inside.
I came harder than I’d ever come before. I didn’t know if it was Brooks’ skill or if it was because it was just Brooks, but for the first time in my existence, I was completely in my body and felt everything down to my toes.
My breaths came in labored pants as I stared up at the ceiling.
Tears gathered in my eyes. I closed them in an attempt to hide the emotion, but a hiccough escaped.
“Freckles?”
And then I burst into tears.
He slid his body up the bed and took me into his arms.
And held me while I cried.
He crooned nonsense against my temple, patiently waiting for the storm to pass.
I sniffled and wiped my wet cheeks, breathing in the clean scent of his skin at his throat.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he asked gently.
“No.”
His arms tightened in silent demand.
“It was just . . . overwhelming. And I wasn’t expecting that.”
“You’re a passionate woman.”
“I’ve never been called that,” I mumbled against him, still refusing to look at him.
He pulled back enough so that he could grasp my chin and force my gaze to meet his.
His eyes were warm butterscotch.
“I can’t wait to make you fall apart again.”
My cheeks flamed with heat. “Brooks . . .”
“Why are you so embarrassed? There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Not the emotion. Not the fact that you made my ears ring because you screamed so loud. You’re gorgeous when you come.”
I lowered my lashes.
“You’re acting like no one’s ever . . . Wait. Has no one ever taken care of you before?”
“Let’s not talk about that,” I muttered.
I was still exposed, raw. The post-orgasmic glow was fading. And in its place came trepidation.
“No, don’t do that,” he said gruffly, stopping me from attempting to pull the covers up to conceal myself.
“You’re fully dressed,” I replied. “I’m not.”
“Yeah, but you’re embarrassed. Why?”
“Brooks,” I whined.
“No, Freckles. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”
He pulled up the coverlet and wrapped his arms around me again, so I was burritoed against him.
“No one’s ever . . .” I trailed off.
“Gone down on you? Or made you come?”
“Both.”
His arms tightened around me. “What? How is that possible?”
The truth lodged in my throat—I’d fooled around, but it had never gone farther than under the shirt petting and dry humping. So, I kept it to myself and let him think I’d had selfish lovers.
“A lot of men don’t like to please women that way,” I said.
“A lot of men are shit bags.”
I giggled and the tension left my body. I sagged against him.
“There you are,” he whispered, trailing his lips across my head. “Don’t ever be afraid to ask for what you want from me. I’ll do anything you want.”
“Anything?” I asked, finally lifting my head to look at him.
He brushed the messy hair from my face. “Anything.”
“What if I want . . .”
“Yes?”
“To taste you?” I asked boldly.
His eyes turned to liquid honey whiskey.
“You can taste me,” he rasped.
“Now?”
He smiled at my hopeful tone. “I gotta get to the Ridge. I’m already late.”
I sighed in remorse. “Right.”
“Tonight,” he whispered huskily. “You can taste me tonight.”
Excitement bloomed in my belly.
He let me go. “Now, roll away from me and get dressed or I’m liable to call out sick.”
“How’s the donut?” Brooks asked as he started the truck engine.
I was munching on a bite and held it out to him.
He looked at it and shook his head.
I swallowed. “You can’t be human. How can you resist something like this? Oh right. You hate chocolate.”
“I lied about hating chocolate,” he admitted.
“You what?” I looked at him, my brow furrowing. “Why would you lie about something like that?”
“I promised myself I wouldn’t eat chocolate anymore,” he said. “And I don’t break promises I make to myself. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be a man of my word.”
“I don’t understand, though. Why are you denying yourself something you enjoy?”
“Because I have an addictive and sometimes obsessive personality.” He glanced at me. “So, I don’t drink and I don’t eat chocolate.”
“What else don’t you do?” I asked in shock.
“I don’t sleep in. I always get up with my alarm. When I say I’m going to do something, I do it.”
“And you don’t deviate?”
“I don’t deviate.”
We fell silent for a moment and then I said, “So you don’t allow yourself anything that brings you pleasure?”
He didn’t reply right away, so I looked at him and waited.
“How can you ask me that? After what just happened between us? I derived just as much pleasure from watching you come as you did from coming.”
His words made me squirm in my seat. I cleared my throat. “I find that hard to believe. I enjoyed myself quite a bit.”
Brooks flashed a grin. “Yeah. I know.”
I refused to let him turn the conversation.
“Just seems sad, Brooks,” I said softly.
“What does?”
“Living such a rigid life. I’m not telling you to drink or eat chocolate. I never want you to think that I—that I don’t respect your boundaries. But I can’t help but wonder . . .”
“What?”
“You might be out of prison, Brooks, but you’re still living like you’re in one.” I looked out the window and finished the rest of my coffee. It was cold now.
“Well, aren’t you insightful as hell,” he muttered. “Do you read psychology books?”
“No.”
There was another stretch of quiet.
“What are you considering?” he asked finally.
“Hmm?”
“The phone call I walked in on,” he said. “It was your grandfather, right?”
“It was.” I glanced at him. “He invited me to travel with him around Europe. After the baby shower, I mean. I said I’d think about it.”
“You can’t go.”
I raised my brows. “Excuse me?”
“You can’t go, because if you do, you’re going to meet a man with an accent and perfect English hair that looks good in rainy drizzle, and you’re going to fall head over heels in love with him. And I can’t let that happen.”
The anger in my chest evaporated. “You can’t let that happen, hmm?”
“No. You’d always be thinking about me anyway, so it wouldn’t work out long term. You’d be thinking about the cowboy who made you come with his tongue. It’s not fair for another man to live in my shadow. In a way, I’m saving you.”
“Oh, I see. You’re worried about the nameless, faceless man. I feel like we need to name him.”
“Angus.”
“Angus? You see me with a man named Angus?” I asked with a laugh.
Brooks’ smile dimmed ever so slightly when he looked at me. “No. I see you with a man named Brooks.”
I wasn’t sure what to say.
My phone rang, breaking the spell between us. I leaned down and grabbed my cell. I pressed the answer button.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“We’ll be home tomorrow night,” Salem said. “If I don’t see you at my house for dinner, Hadley and I will kidnap you.”
I sniggered. “I’ll be there.”
“So, word on Silver Street is you and Brooks have been hanging out,” she fished.
“Uh, yeah. Kinda.” I glanced at Brooks. “I can’t really talk about it.”
“You’re with him right now, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, okay. I gotchya. Can’t wait to hear about everything.”
“Tomorrow night we’ll catch up. You, me, Hadley and we’ll call Wyn,” I said. “I’ll text her a heads up. Safe travels.”
“Bye.”
I hung up with Salem and set my phone down.
“Salem and crew will be home tomorrow night. So that means dinner at the Ridge. Mr. Powell already invited you, so you can’t make up an excuse not to go.”
“Freckles.”
“Beanstalk.”
“I need a new nickname,” he groused. “I’m not a fan of Beanstalk.”
“How about Desperado?”
He paused.
“Beanstalk it is.”