Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
SAVANNAH
I look up from my book for the thousandth time.
An hour reading and I’ve only made it through five pages.
But then that’s what happens when the hottest journalist on the planet is sitting in the chair by the window, all glasses and messy hair, a MacBook balanced in his lap, and a look of deep concentration lining his forehead as he writes a feature all about me.
Me. He’s sitting there, writing about me.
I squirm against the couch cushions, shifting position again, and try to make myself focus on my book. A lost cause when all I want to do is watch Brodie.
He glances over. “You okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Sure? You keep fidgeting. Excess energy? Or are you suffering after yesterday’s mammoth shower sex?” His eyes flash.
My tummy does a hop, skip, and jump. Mammoth isn’t a big enough word to describe yesterday’s shower sex.
His hand. His mouth. His hand again. Until eventually the shower ran cold, and we dashed back to bed. By the time he’d buried himself all the way into me, I was entirely boneless and yet he still managed to tease two final orgasms while he chased one of his own.
He left me napping afterward—because seriously, what the hell else was I meant to do?
—while he returned to his place to change, collect his laptop, and pick up takeaway for dinner.
We shared egg-fried rice and kung pao chicken with Nix, watched a movie, and then fell back into bed.
Today, we’re playing at being home together, just the two of us, while Brodie finishes his feature.
And I try to enjoy my downtime before Dad arrives.
Tomorrow.
When life as I know it changes for good.
I stand in a rush, the thought of my dad sending a whole other kind of energy through me.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing.” My voice sounds tight.
Brodie sets his laptop aside. “What just happened?”
“Nothing. How’s the writing?”
“Good. Think I’m close to getting this first draft down. Want to read it? If it’s the article worrying you, it’s right here. You can even tell me to change stuff. Anything you want.”
“I’m not worried about that. I trust you.” I’m still standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room. “Do you want a drink? Snack?”
“I’m fine.” He frowns. “Clearly you’re not though.”
It’s that time in the early afternoon when the spring sunshine hits the window next to where Brodie’s sitting.
The light has a beautiful golden quality today, softly filtering through the glass and creating a halo around his head.
I walk over and curl up in his lap, fitting perfectly, our bodies designed to match like two jigsaw puzzle pieces.
He strokes my hair and allows the silence.
I shut my eyes. “I just remembered it’s Monday. Which means it’s Tuesday tomorrow.”
His hand briefly pauses and then he resumes his stroking. “Your lunch with your dad.”
“Yep.”
“How are you feeling about it?”
“Yep.”
He chuckles. “You planned out how you’re going to break the news?”
“Rip the Band-Aid off. There’s not a lot I can say to soften the edges of this however much I try to dress it up.”
“Do you want to talk through anything? We could role play.”
“That’s the sort of thing Nix would suggest.” I allow myself a smile. “Don’t think it’s worth it though. We could come up with a million alternatives and he’ll still surprise me. It’s his superpower.”
“So you need to stay strong.” Brodie’s hand moves down to the back of my neck, gently massaging me. “Do you rely on him for anything?”
“Like what?”
He stills again, like he’s holding his breath. “Money?”
“I used to. In college and stuff. Not anymore. He still makes regular transfers, but it goes into its own account and then I donate it to charity. If I used his cash, Nix and I would have a penthouse overlooking English Bay, not this little hovel.”
“This place is cute. All the quirky, uneven-floored charm of the West End.” He’s back to breathing, but he still seems tense under me.
I duck away to look at him. “You okay? Think my lunch with my dad is stressing you out as much as it is me.”
He shrugs. “Just protective of you.”
“I’ve got this. It’s just my dad. What’s the worst that can happen?” I manage a smile that I hope looks fiercer than I feel.
He reaches up, clasping my face. “You’re so fucking brave, Savannah. I don’t know anyone else like you.”
“You, Brodie. You’re like me, only even braver. I’ve been hiding because I’m scared, but you faced up to your family from the outset. You’ve never hidden who you are.”
“But you’re invincible, Savannah. You’ve taken the loss of your mom and turned it into something powerful.
Something that does so much good for other people.
” He presses a gentle kiss to my mouth. “Tomorrow will be hard, but when your dad gets over the initial shock, he’ll see that you inherited his grit. He’ll be proud of you too.”
He captures my mouth again and this time the kiss lingers for a moment. I lean into it, adjusting the way I’m sitting so I can press up against him.
He pulls away with a low chuckle. “We can’t. I need to finish this draft.”
“Sure. But can’t you work with me here?” I flutter my eyelashes at him, loving how at peace he makes me feel. Like nothing else matters when I’m in his arms.
“If you stay sitting on me much longer, I’ll be working on something entirely different.”
“Sounds perfect to me. We haven’t made out in here yet.” I rub against him, the seam of his jeans hitting just the right spot.
“And we’re not going to now.” He gives me a lopsided grin. “However much you grind against me.” Picking me up, he plonks my feet on the floor next to him, adjusts his semi, and then re-opens his MacBook. “My two weeks are officially up. Simone’s expecting a draft and I want to get it in asap.”
“Fine.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll just have to find another way to entertain myself.”
He shoots me a look. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
“Course not. I’m a good girl. You know that.” I smirk and disappear into my bedroom. I know exactly what to do to get him on side.
Picking out a tiny pair of white yoga shorts and a workout bra, I strip naked and pull them on before tying my hair into a ponytail. I then gather my yoga mat, phone, and AirPods.
Strolling back to the living room, I slide the coffee table out of the way and unroll my mat at Brodie’s feet.
I throw a look over my shoulder. “Don’t mind me. Just thought some yoga might help me relax. Take away some of the stress of thinking about tomorrow. I’ll wear headphones so it won’t disturb you.”
His eyes burn holes in my back as I sit cross-legged in front of him and press play on a YouTube yoga video. Full body flow. Perfect.
The session begins with some meditation. I close my eyes and channel my energy into my breath, each inhalation seeming to fuel the need between my legs rather than cool me down.
Meditation transitions into side stretches, a seated forward fold, and then a seated twist.
Truth is, I’m good at yoga. I practice most days, am super flexible, and have excellent balance. But my yoga practice doesn’t usually turn me on. Until today.
I move to all fours and begin some spinal flexion.
Breathe in, dip my center, invert my back.
Breathe out, round my back, allow my head to drop forward.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Invert and arch.
Up and down. And then I slowly peel my body into a downward dog.
Eyes closed, I pedal it out, my ass high in the air.
The blood rushes to my head and, totally counterintuitively, all the way south to between my legs.
But that’s probably because I can still sense Brodie’s eyes on me.
There’s no way he’s not watching the show, my butt in tiny shorts right in front of his face.
Lifting into a three-legged dog, I bend my raised leg at the knee and open up to stack my hips before repeating the motion on the other side. I then return both feet to the floor, where I shift my weight up and over as I walk my dog out to a plank.
Totally in control. Strong. Rock-solid.
I move through a vinyasa of chaturanga to upward-facing dog, and then slide back into downward dog, my every movement making me feel more and more slick as I once again pedal it out, my butt back in the air.
My headphones are noise-canceling, so I don’t hear Brodie move.
I feel him though. The whisper of heat before his hand strokes along my inner thigh.
I pull out a headphone and look under my arm. He’s still seated, but leaning forward so he can reach me. His laptop’s been discarded, lid closed. And his jeans are open, his other hand holding himself.
It’s just about the horniest fucking sight I’ve ever seen.
“I thought you had to finish your draft.”
“Something came up. I got a little distracted.”
“Oh, sorry. It’s not me, is it?”
“No. It’s not you at all. Feel free to keep doing your yoga as much as you want.
” He releases himself. “Think you might be even more comfortable without these though.” He slowly drags down my shorts, cool air encircling me.
“Carry on. Don’t mind me.” He parrots my own words with a wink and then sits back.
Fine. He wants to watch? I’ll give him a show he’ll never forget.
I discard my headphones and then center myself on my mat.
Keeping my back to him, I embody my very best inner lap dancer and unzip my sports bra, holding it out from my fingertip and allowing it to fall to the floor.
It’s literally the very first time I’ve made a move like this, but I’m going all out.
And there’s something about having Brodie’s eyes on me.
Makes me stronger. Makes me want to push every possible boundary.
Taking my legs wide, I dip into a standing forward fold. All the way down. My hands reach the floor, then my forearms, and eventually the top of my head. I’ve gone so low I know I’m completely exposed to him, at the height of his eyeline.
“Jesus.” He mutters the word.
I allow a self-satisfied smile as I inch my way back to standing. Turning to face him, I zone in on his hand, slowly stroking his cock.
Lifting my right knee, I place my foot against the top of my left inner thigh for tree pose.
It’s a difficult move to pull off, especially when my focal point is moving, and my inner thigh is hot with my desire.
But I hold it for a moment, hands in prayer, before losing balance.
On purpose. “Oops. Guess my pussy’s too wet. ”
An animalistic noise erupts from him. Part growl. Part moan.
He’s on me in a flash, scooping me into his arms.
Lifting me up, his erection bobs between us. “You drive me insane, Savannah.”
“Good because you do exactly the same to me.” I rub myself against him. “Want you bare. To feel you come inside me.”
Another feral noise escapes him. “What about birth control?”
“On the pill. And clean. You?”
Another grunt. “Not on the pill. But clean.”
“Then stop messing around, Brodie. Fuck me already.”
His eyes glint wickedly and then he’s thrusting inside. All the way. Hard.
I’m so turned on, the feeling of him bare is enough to make me come undone.
He takes a step, stumbling slightly, and then he lays me on the couch and begins relentlessly fucking me.
“Fuck. You feel so incredible. I’m… Can’t hold out…” He begins to shake, his whole body trembling. “Oh god, Savannah. I love you. I fucking love you.”
It’s enough to tip me right over the edge and I unravel with him. Riding wave after wave while I fall apart in his arms.
But it’s not the mind-blowing orgasm that has my world entirely rocked.
It’s his words. Spoken without whisky. Straight from his heart.
He loves me.
He really fucking loves me.