Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
brIAR
Right.
So, getting my hands on Brooks’s cock is probably not the smartest thing to do in this moment.
I should tell him to call the others back, should hand over the USB, should get the hell out…and none of those shoulds make the least bit of difference right now.
Because Brooks needs this.
Needs me.
Needs what I can give him.
And…I can’t lie.
I want it too.
Hearing his groan in the air, feeling his body against mine.
Desperate for the slight burn as he thrusts deep, the stretch and feeling of fullness from his cock, the hardness of him pressing into me.
Our breaths mingling, our kisses intensifying until it’s like we’ve become one person with a single pursuit.
Pleasure.
“Briar,” he groans and I snap out of my memories, my fantasies.
Releasing his cock, I wrestle the button on his slacks open, tug down the zipper.
He’s moving just as jerkily, yanking up my shirt, shoving down my pants.
“Wait,” I say when he sweeps me up into his arms and he freezes.
Then he sets me on my knees beside him. “We can stop, baby.” He cups my cheek. “Now. Later. Any time.”
It’s gentle, those words, that reassurance.
And hell, that spears through me.
And I know.
Know.
There’s no way I’m coming out of this unscathed.
That even when I hated Brooks, I still loved him.
I’ve always loved him.
Even when I watched him walk away.
I close my eyes.
Then more shoulds—should stop, should leave, should keep him at a distance—
Ha.
How’s that working for me?
I’m in my underwear and his pants are unbuttoned and I can still feel the imprint of his cock on my hand.
Something slides through his eyes when I peel back my lids but I don’t let it process.
And I don’t let him speak.
I just reach for the hem of his shirt and tug.
He watches me as he yanks it over his head, tosses it to the side.
“Now these,” I order softly, pushing at the open waistband of his slacks.
Heat in his eyes as he obliges, but I know that he’s watching closely. And I can’t have that, can’t let him know.
Why not? Why can’t you start over? Why can’t you have this?
I shove the questions from my mind.
Too late.
It’s too late for us.
I’ve done too much, the gulf between us is too great.
But not too late for this, not too late for me to make him feel good.
Not too late for us to have a few more stolen moments before—
His slacks drop to the floor and then I’m really not thinking any longer. I’m shoving down his underwear and we’re both groaning as I wrap my fingers around him and stroke.
Hard as steel. Soft as velvet. Hot as sin.
I want him in my mouth.
I want to feel him twitch as he comes in me, filling me up as I struggle to swallow him down.
But when I go to lower myself, he stops me.
“No, baby.”
My eyes find his.
But he’s looking away, brushing off my hand, pulling up his underwear.
My stomach twists and I reach for him again, but he just steps back, snagging his slacks and dragging them up his legs.
“I—”
He turns away and it’s like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over my head.
I’m frozen as he moves to the bags, pulling out a pair of pajamas. He tears off the tags, tugs the top over my head and I robotically push my arms through the holes, steady myself on his shoulders as I put one leg into the pants, then the other.
“What are you doing?” I manage to ask.
“You think I don’t see the look in your eyes?”
“I’m fine.”
He just lifts his brows. “Bullshit.”
I sigh. “Okay, so I will be fine as soon as you let me get my mouth on your cock.”
More heat, but it’s tempered now.
Shit.
I’ve messed this up.
“And I’ll be more fine when you bend me over the couch and—”
His eyes lock with mine. “How about you level with me instead of trying to distract me with that gorgeous body?”
My heart starts pounding. “I’ve told you everything.”
“Yeah?”
Except about the USB drive. I open my mouth—
“So what really happened when things got bad?”
My lungs seize. “Brooks.”
“You lost your apartment—”
“I got another one.” Eventually.
“You were alone with no money and no one to watch out for you and you yourself said things were bad. Really bad,” he adds when I start to reply.
“It doesn’t matter.” I move to my pants, reach down and pick them up. “I need to tell—”
“Really bad,” he repeats.
The memories try to creep in, but I put down a layer of ice to keep them sealed away. “Don’t,” I say through clenched teeth. “It’s over. There’s no point in going back.”
“Like there was no point in thinking about your parents abandoning you? Or what your grandfather did to you? Or how you felt when I left?”
Phantom fingers wrap around my throat and start squeezing. “Don’t,” I rasp.
“You went through hell,” he says. “Too many times, baby. And you can’t keep shoving it down.”
Rage loosens my throat. “I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
“No, you can’t.”
“Who do you think you are to—”
“I’m the man who never stopped loving you.”
I shake my head. “You left. I understand why,” I add in a rush. “I probably would have done the same thing. But that was five years ago and things have changed—”
“None of the important things.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“So says the woman who was just begging for my cock two minutes ago?”
“Temporary insanity,” I mutter.
He steps close and gently cups my face in his hands. “Is it so bad that you don’t want to tell me?”
No. I fucking don’t want to tell him.
I don’t want to think about it.
Definitely don’t want to have a conversation about it.
“I thought you said you weren’t going to pressure me to talk about it.”
“That was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before I realized you’re still in love with me too.”