Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Just this once and then we never talk about it again. Blame my lapse in judgment or your damn pheromones because god knows this is way too complicated.” His voice was a low rumble, stoking the fire in my blood.
“Just once?” I asked.
“Just once.”
I held his gaze over the tops of my knees.
I would be lying if I said I’d never imagined this.
Just not since I’d gotten to know him better.
It had been a vague idea, an imagined scenario before bedtime.
And yet feeling his large hands splayed out on my legs, the rough tips of his fingers on my knees, and the confidence with which he promised me two orgasms…
I wanted to live that fantasy just once, in this strange liminal space of a dim bedroom on a bus moving through the night, and then we’d go back to being friends.
I nodded and bit into the apple.
Brooks’s hands dropped lower, wrapping around my thighs.
His fingers dug in, deep enough to leave bruises in the morning, as he pushed my legs apart.
I didn’t get the chance to feel self-conscious about lying in front of him like that.
He dove down, his mouth finding the inside of my thigh, so close to my center, I felt his heat radiate through the thin fabric of my panties.
I sighed around the apple as he traced kisses higher and higher and higher, only to switch sides at the last inch and trace another searing path up my other leg. Every kiss, every nibble made me forget the rest of the world existed. It was just Brooks and his mouth on me.
He flattened my thighs against the mattress, opening me to him completely, hands like steel around my legs.
“Fuck, Addie, look at how wet you’re getting your panties. I don’t think I have it in me to go slow if that’s how you greet me,” he groaned.
He wanted this. Wanted me. Even if it was just for one night.
I squeezed my eyes shut, grateful for the apple keeping me quiet, because his words alone made me feel better than any touch ever had. He had me pinned down, and my underwear was too thin to hide how he stoked my need for him. I didn’t want to hide. I wanted him to see. Wanted him to feel.
I bucked against his grip, trying to tilt my hips for him.
Brooks chuckled. “As impatient as me, are you?”
I nodded frantically and wriggled my hips again.
“Fuck, you’re pretty,” he rasped, and bent down again.
This time, his mouth cut a searing path from the hem of my panties downward.
The thin layer of fabric hardly mattered as he bit down over my pubic bone.
My toes curled, my legs twitching against his grip.
God, I was at his mercy, and I didn’t care. I’d let him ruin me if he wanted to.
His mouth traveled lower. And then I felt him.
His lips. His tongue. His teeth. He sucked my clit into his mouth, panties included, and my spine arched for him.
White hot electric sparks shot through my nervous system.
This was insane. There was a whole layer of clothing between us, and I’d never felt pleasure this intense.
Like he couldn’t even wait long enough to undress me.
“God, you taste better than I imagined.”
Than he imagined?
His words ripped me from the blinding bliss. Did that mean…?
Before I could free my mouth from the apple and ask, a knock on the door interrupted my train of thought.
“Brooks?” Anthony called through the door.
We froze in place for just a split second. Then Brooks snapped my legs shut like a book, swung himself around to sit at the foot of the bed with one hand in the gift basket. His other hand reached back and tugged the skirt of my dress back down.
I was still a burning hot mess, but Brooks was all composure.
“Yes?” he called back. “Come in.”
Anthony opened the door inch by inch, just enough to poke his head in and survey the situation.
I bit off the chunk of apple lodged between my teeth.
Brooks unwrapped a chocolate bar.
“Oh, okay, you’re not…” Anthony sighed and slipped into the bedroom, phone to his ear, but covering the mic with his hand. “Adriana, could you give us a minute? Maybe get some sleep in your own bed?”
“No, she’s good right here.”
“I can go,” I said, voice strangely croaky.
Brooks shot me a look over his shoulder that nailed me in place. Okay, maybe Anthony wasn’t the equivalent of a cold shower, just an interruption. I bit down on the stupid grin about to unfold on my lips.
“Right. Where do I start? Do you remember Candace Green? I think she went by Candy. About ten years ago, she was your stylist on the ‘Wish You Well’ video. Long blond hair, a little hippie, a little Stevie Nicks.” Anthony’s eyes skipped to me.
Didn’t take much to put two and two together. Brooks had a type. I was the type.
“Yeah, it’s been a minute, but I remember,” Brooks replied slowly, weighing every word as if it could be used against him.
“She was in a car accident earlier tonight. She didn’t make it.”
“Shit. I’m sorry…”
“Her nine-year-old daughter is still in the hospital, still in surgery. This number is listed as the kid’s emergency contact.”
“What number?” Brooks asked.
“Your business number,” Anthony replied with a frown.
“Why would—”
Silence unfolded in the small room; only the engine and the rush of asphalt beneath the bus tires filled the air. Brooks had to be doing the same mental math as me. She’d been his stylist, and more than that, ten years ago. Her daughter was nine years old.
Cold shower. Check.
“If you don’t think this is legit, tell me now. We’ll deal with it quietly just like we deal with any other woman trying to sack you with a child. Given the bleak circumstances, however, I wanted to check in with you.”
“We only hooked up for two weeks. Maybe three.” Brooks’s voice had dropped, the words coming slowly.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but five minutes will get the job done,” Anthony quipped.
I sat up, blinking at both men. Whether Brooks was or wasn’t the father was a little beside the point right now.
“Which hospital?” I asked.
“California General. L.A.” Anthony double-checked his phone and nodded. “Candace’s parents are on their way but they’re flying in from Nashville.”
Brooks turned to me, eyes on the apple in my hand, then on my lips, then meeting mine. All the heat had evaporated from his gaze. It was a fucked-up situation, and I knew him well enough to know that he hadn’t been given enough time to prepare. I reached over and squeezed his hand, twice.
“This little girl is about to wake up in so much pain and face the worst heartbreak a child can go through. If there’s even a chance that she’s your daughter, would you want her to face that alone?” I sighed. “And if she isn’t your daughter, we’ll just postpone the Phoenix show by one day.”
“Okay. Okay,” he muttered to himself, nodding. “What’s her name?”
“Skye,” Anthony said.
“L.A.” Brooks confirmed.
“I’ll get a paternity test lined up and make some calls.” Anthony slipped back out, the door falling shut behind him.
Brooks opened and closed his mouth, but no sound came out.
“It’s okay. Come here.” I tugged on his hand and pulled him back up the mattress. He lay down beside me as if the last fifteen or twenty minutes had never happened.
“Ad—” His voice broke, his face contorting in confusion.
“It’s okay,” I whispered and circled my hand over his chest, trying to soothe his racing pulse.
“I know this can mean very many things, but for now you focus on what’s right in front of you.
A nine-year-old girl, hurt, in the hospital.
Focus on Skye. She’ll need clothes, snacks, an iPad, headphones, books, a stuffed animal.
Whether you’re her dad or not, you’ll be able to make her feel a little better in the moment.
Can you do that? Can you focus on the girl who just lost her mom? ”
He nodded.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whispered and lay down, my head on his chest. I listened to his racing heart, even as I felt my own heart crack. Whatever we had told ourselves, there was no going back from this night.