Chapter 36
Brody
He woke before her, for which he was grateful. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy early-morning Goldie, with her wild hair and sleep-dazed eyes. That version of her was easily one of his favorites, and not only because she was usually too out of it to give him hell.
But their conversation from the night before still weighed heavy on his chest when he woke, and he was feeling a bit too… raw to face her just then.
Moving around his kitchen in silence, he played it over and over in his mind. He’d never talked to a woman about his parents before. That subject had always been very firmly off the table with anyone he’d dated.
Before Goldie.
Then again, they weren’t exactly dating, were they? Pretty much skipped that step and went straight to living together and “I love you”.
Another thing he’d never said to any woman but her.
That knowledge should settle him. Goldie was his, that was fact. He had no intention of letting her go, even once he decided it was safe for her to leave his house on her own.
And yet, knowing he’d shared so much of himself with her was an itch under his skin, for reasons even he couldn’t name.
God, what he wouldn’t give to talk to his dad about her.
That old, familiar grief slammed into him, knocking the air clean from his lungs as he gripped the counter and tried to breathe through it.
Most days, he could forget the grief was there, could go an entire day without thinking about his parents.
Then there were moments like this, when it was all he could think about, and he could barely breathe under the weight of it.
“Brody? Are you okay?”
Fuck. Of course she’d walk in on him when he was fighting for his life against the sorrow threatening to drag him down. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.” A small hand came to rest on his back, rubbing slow, soothing circles over his t-shirt. “What’s wrong?”
“I said I’m fine, Marigold.”
His words were too sharp, and he didn’t have to look at her to feel the hurt he’d inflicted. Fucking hell, he was an asshole.
“Don’t do that.”
Closing his eyes, he focused on dragging in enough air to quell the burning in his lungs. “Do what?”
It was the coward’s answer, and his father hadn’t raised a coward. Another knife in his heart, to go with all the others that had lodged there and refused to be removed over the years.
“Try to pretend everything is all hunky-dory while also biting my head off for asking a simple question. You wouldn’t let me get away with that shit, so you don’t get to do it to me.”
Yeah, that was exactly what he’d been doing.
And yeah, she was right. If she’d snapped at him the way he just had, he would have spanked her ass for it, then sat her down and forced her to talk about whatever was clearly bothering her.
It wasn’t fair for him to push her away like this, but he also couldn’t bring himself to actually put his wildly out of control emotions into words.
“I just need a minute, menace.”
A beat of silence greeted his request before she answered. “Okay. I’ll get the coffee started.”
He listened to her moving around his kitchen, opening various cabinets and swearing under her breath when they didn’t hold the items she wanted. It was kind of adorable, really, that she’d been staying with him for a few weeks now and she still didn’t know where anything was.
The sound of her voice, quiet as it was, soothed some of those rough edges inside him. At least enough for him to breathe in, nice and deep, without it feeling like the air itself was going to slice him open from the inside out.
When he finally felt steady again, he straightened and turned to look for her. She was where he’d expected her to be, standing watch over the coffee pot as if the contents held the answers to life itself.
To be fair, for her they probably did.
Crossing the kitchen, he moved into place behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole.”
“You’re not always an asshole.” A smug smile played at the corners of her lips when she craned her neck to look over her shoulder at him. “But I’ll accept your apology for being an asshole this morning if you tell me what’s wrong.”
Fair enough, really. “I was thinking about last night.”
Turning in his arms, she stared up at him, and too late he realized how his words must have sounded to her. “If fucking me in the ass puts you in this foul of a mood, I’m going to have to put it on my hard-limits list.”
A laugh burst out of him, knocking loose some of the painful pressure in his chest. “Only you could make me laugh when I’m feeling like this. Is it any wonder I’m fucking crazy about you?”
“I dunno, you seem pretty perplexed by it most days.”
He couldn’t help but grin at that. “I am. You keep me on my toes, menace.”
“Just the way we both like it.” Lifting one brow in a decent imitation of the look he often gave her, she drilled a finger into his chest. “But that doesn’t get you off the hook for telling me what’s bothering you.”
“I suppose it doesn’t.” And because he was crazy about her, because she mattered, he dragged in another deep breath and prepared to bare his soul to her yet again. “I was thinking about our conversation last night. About my parents.”
Just like that, everything about her changed. Softened with an understanding that threatened to shatter him. “What were you thinking about?”
“I was thinking about how you’re the only woman I’ve ever talked to about them.
” Reaching up, he brushed a stray bit of hair from her face.
Her hair was getting long, longer than he’d seen it, and he fleetingly wondered if Reagan had a recommendation for a salon who could be trusted not only with her hair but with her safety.
“And how you’re also the only woman I’ve ever said ‘I love you’ to.
Which led to a lot of complicated feelings, which led to me wishing I could talk to my dad about you. ”
“I’d probably be a bit of an asshole too, under the circumstances.”
Closing his eyes, he dropped his forehead to hers, breathing in deep again. This time he could smell her, the scent of his soap on her skin, a combination that tested the reins of his self-control.
Fuck it. He needed her. Maybe it made him weak, he didn’t care.
Sliding his hands down to cup her ass, he lifted her, ignoring her shocked squeak as he sat her on the counter.
“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against her lips, a moment before he lay claim to them, drinking in her soft sigh as she surrendered.
Hooking his fingers in the waistband of her panties, he waited for her to raise her hips so he could slide the underwear down her long, shapely legs, baring her to him.
When he pulled back, breaking the kiss, she stared at him through lust-soaked eyes, and what was left of his self-restraint snapped. Shoving his sweatpants to his knees, he gripped her thighs, yanking her to the edge of the countertop so he could sink into her waiting heat.
“I don’t deserve you,” he repeated as her perfect pussy enveloped him. “But I’m going to keep you anyway. I’m an asshole, for that alone. For not being strong enough to stay away, even when that’s what’s best for you.”
“No. No.” Shaking her head, she looped her arms around his neck, clinging to him as he moved inside her, driving them both closer and closer to their peak. “You’re what’s best for me. In every possible way.”
“I’m not. I’m stubborn and territorial and I’d rather cut out my own tongue than talk about my feelings.”
A sassy grin slashed across her face. “You’re right. You’re a bad fucking bet. Too bad for both of us I’m wildly, deeply, madly in love with you, I guess.”
Her words froze him in place. Buried deep inside her, he met her golden eyes, dancing with amusement and mischief. “You love me.”
“I do. I’m sorry I didn’t say it last night, I was just—”
“No.” Ducking his head, he captured her lips again, flexing his hips at the same time so she cried out into his mouth. “This is perfect. Say it again.”
“I love you. I love you so fucking much, but I might have to kill you if you don’t fuck me right now.”
Laughing, delighted by her, he gave her everything she asked for and then some, the kitchen filling with her gasps and whimpers of ecstasy until she tightened around him, her head falling back against the cabinets as she sighed with pleasure.
He followed her over not long after, emptying himself into her.
Which was exactly how he felt when it was done. Empty, but in the best possible way. As if she’d reached inside him and scooped out the grief and the anger and the unbearable sadness, replacing it all with her. Her light, her love.
Her everything.
Lifting her head again, she grinned lazily up at him. “That might be even better than coffee.”
“There’s an idea. Orgasms instead of caffeine.”
“Orgasms and caffeine. Try taking my coffee away and see what happens, O’Rourke.”
Sliding from the counter, she grabbed her underwear from where he’d dropped them on the floor and pulled them back on, glaring at him the entire time.
Delighted by her as he so often was, he pulled his own sweatpants back up and flashed her a grin.
“You’re going to have to find something else to call me when you’re pissed after we get married.
Can’t use O’Rourke as an insult if it’s your last name too. ”
“Watch me.” Nose in the air, she nudged him aside to pour her coffee. “And who says I’m taking your name?”
“I do. I don’t care if it makes me a caveman, I want my woman wearing my ring to have my name. You can keep Quinn for your books, but outside of that world, you’re—”
“Oh, fuck!” Setting her coffee down sharply enough for the contents to spill over the side onto his previously clean counter, Goldie whipped her head around, her expression frantic. “Where’s my phone? I need to check my phone.”
“Why? What’s going on?”