“Honey,” Kyle started when Flash was out of sight. “Did I just meet the inspiration for all those new songs?”
“It’s not like that,” she protested, and to her own ears, it sounded weak. “He’s a friend.”
Kyle gaped at her. Yeah, he wasn’t buying it, either.
“The way he looked at you? No way. That’s a man who wants a lot more than ‘friendship,’” he said, throwing in air quotes for good measure. “And the way you’re looking at him? Come on. I may be an old man, but I’m not blind.”
Brooke didn’t have a snappy comeback to that, but Alex saved her. “Are we going?” she all but shouted through the car window.
“Be careful!” Kyle called as Brooke climbed into the car. “And call me if you need backup!”
Yeah, like that was going to happen. She just waved as Alex sped off.
How would people like Kyle react when he found out that she’d been sitting on the juiciest of details for months? She hoped people wouldn’t be too hurt that they hadn’t been important enough to be in the know, but, seriously, aside from the executives on her record label, the private OB/GYN and nurse who’d delivered Bean at Brooke’s home, the equally private pediatrician and Alex—and Mom, of course—no one else knew.
But she couldn’t hide her son forever. She wanted to take him to parks and the zoo and...and just out. She wanted to talk to other moms she knew about what was normal and what wasn’t. Hell, she wanted to take some pictures with Bean, not just cell phone shots. She wanted to do all the normal stuff with her son.
She didn’t want to hide. Not from her friends, not from her fans and not from Flash.
Worse, when she daydreamed about all those fun things, she wasn’t alone. Flash was next to her.
In her perfect world, Flash was by her side during the day and in her bed at night. Her son didn’t have to grow up without his father, like Brooke had. And she didn’t have to feel so alone anymore.
But that fantasy was just that—fantasy. Instead of that perfect world, she’d invited him home to tell him about Bean and also to not have sex with him.
The tension rolling off Alex was palatable, which had to be the only reason Brooke heard herself repeating the lie, “He’s just a friend.”
“Uh-huh.” Yeah, Alex wasn’t buying any of that as she took off for the 440.
From there, they’d take 40 west to the house she’d bought with the money her uncle had managed not to embezzle. Her home was on five fenced-in acres. If she had another hit record and successful tour, she had plans to completely renovate the sprawling mid-century ranch house. She hadn’t even been able to paint the rooms while she’d been pregnant because the smell of primer had made her sick.
“The show went well, don’t you think?” Brooke tried again, desperate for a subject change.
“Hon,” Alex said in her growly voice, “did you tell him about Bean?”
This was the problem with best friends. There was no hiding anything from them. Because of course Alex had figured out that the one show she’d missed was the rodeo in Texas.
“No,” she said, because more lies would only be an insult to Alex’s intelligence.
Alex thought that over as she began to weave through traffic like the devil himself was hot on their tail. Finally she asked, “Are you going to?”
Brooke had closed her eyes. Flash was the boy’s father. She simply didn’t have a choice.
“Yes,” she admitted, wondering why it felt like such a defeat. “But...”
“Yeah, I know—don’t tell your mother,” Alex grumbled. “She’ll find out sooner or later.”
Later, Brooke prayed. Please let it be much, much later.
Her mother had sat on the secret of Brooke’s paternity for twenty-some-odd years. Brooke could keep Flash a secret for just a little bit longer.
She was going to tell Flash about Bean and hope all he’d said about not letting his anger rule him was the truth. But...
God, it was selfish and wrong, but she wanted just one more time with him before she told him she was the mother of his child.
One last grasp at the woman she’d been a year ago. A lifetime ago.
Humming a melody that built itself around the words, she had to wonder—was bringing Flash to her home another huge mistake or the making of another perfect memory?
Four
At exactly eleven forty-five, Flash walked up the front walk to Brooke’s house, which was a long rancher that looked a bit shabby around the edges. The whole thing was set almost half a mile back from the road, creating the appearance of privacy. Flash didn’t see any other lights and the night was hushed. He did his best to tread quietly, afraid to disturb the quiet.
Clearly, Brooke didn’t want anyone to see him coming or going and he respected that—after their night together, she’d become the subject of a lot of media scrutiny.
The temptation to whistle was strong, but he tamped it down. It was a nice night and Brooke had kissed him. Sure, her new music was a broadside attack on him, but she was stunningly talented and she’d kissed him. He’d said what he needed to say and then she’d kissed him. She needed him and, by God, being needed was freaking amazing. This had all the markings of another amazing night.
All in all, things were looking up.
But doubt was trying to crowd out his good mood. Why did she need so much time to get ready? Possibly she just needed to pick up—as if he gave a flying rat’s ass if there were dishes in the sink or clothes on the floor.
Another possibility bugged him. Because what if she needed the extra time to get rid of someone?
The thought of her being married or hustling some dude out of the house made his stomach tighten, but he breathed through the pressure. He was not the boss of Brooke. He had no claim on her whatsoever, and it’d been over a year since they’d been together.
He wanted her but not enough to ask her to cheat with him. The bonds of marriage were unbreakable. Hell, his own father still deeply mourned the loss of Flash’s mother and that’d been fourteen years ago. Trixie Lawrence was still Milt’s wife. Not even death would change that.
Flash would do damn near anything for another night with Brooke. But he wouldn’t wreck a marriage.
Everything else, though...
Kissing Brooke Bonner again had brought it all back to him. The feel of her body flush against his, the taste of her singing on his tongue. She was honey sweet and he wanted to sip her. Just thinking about her hand on his chest, how her fingers had curled into his shirt to hold him close while he’d done his damnedest to show her how good he could be for her—he was downright giddy.
A long, painful year of “self-improvement” and “introspection” was behind him. All that time without women to relieve the pressure, without beer to dull the frustration. Months of reining himself in, no matter how much some jackasses deserved a punch to the mouth. Thirteen freaking months of watching Brooke from a distance, wondering if he haunted her dreams like she haunted his—and now he was so close to having her again that it was physically painful to walk.
The need to bury himself in her body beat a steady rhythm through his veins, all because she’d kissed him.
Flash had to stop just outside the circle of light cast by the porch lights and wait for his blood to cool. He wasn’t expecting anything from this...visit. There was no way six songs worth of percolating rage had been erased with some good groveling and a kiss.
But...best case, they’d be naked at some point before dawn broke and stay that way until at least lunch tomorrow. He had a pack of condoms in his back pocket, purchased in a fit of optimism after discovering she’d be at the Bluebird. He didn’t have to report in at the Bridgestone Arena before Friday afternoon. He could happily spend a few days wrapped up in Brooke.
But that was best case. Hope for the best, plan for the worst, and the worst case
was Brooke taking advantage of what seemed like acres of privacy to read him the freaking riot act. Just because she’d molded her body to his and whispered, “I need you,” in his ear didn’t mean Flash was about to get lucky.
Failure to plan is planning to fail. He’d learned that the hard way over the last year.
So this was the plan. If she got mad, he wasn’t going to get mad back. This wasn’t a screaming contest and he didn’t have to win. Yeah, it would suck, but he deserved to be put in his place, as his brother Oliver and brother-in-law Pete loved to remind him. He would grit his teeth, focus on breathing, take a walk if he started to lose his cool and hopefully figure out what, exactly, he’d done to inspire such passionate songwriting. Then he’d make his apologies—again—and do what he could to make things right and...
And then he’d walk away.
If that’s what she wanted, that’s what he’d do.
And if he had to walk away, he wouldn’t go to a bar and pick a fight. He’d go pound out a few miles on a treadmill at his hotel workout room until he couldn’t move.
There. That was a plan.
With his emotions firmly under control, Flash strode up the front steps.
Before he could knock, the door swung open and there she was.
“Brooke,” he said, his body tightening at the sight of her.
She’d lost the vest thing and the belt, as well as the heavy jewelry that’d been around her neck. Which gave him a hell of an unobstructed view of her cleavage. But the worst thing of all was she’d lost her boots. The sight of her bare toes slammed into his gut, and he went hard when she placed one delicate little foot on top of the other. Her toes were painted a deep, sultry red, and he wanted to suck on each one until she screamed.
The space between them sparked with electricity, just like it had the first time he’d clapped eyes on this woman. There was something about her that lit him up, and he was tired of trying to ignore that elemental reaction.
She needed him. She’d asked him here. He wanted her.
Simple.
He realized he was still staring at her toes. He jerked his eyes up.
Brooke stared up at him, her mouth forming a round little O. Then she dropped her gaze, blushing furiously. “Flash. You’re on time.”
“I would never disappoint a lady.”
She tucked her lower lip under her teeth and he fought back a groan. Was she trying to torture him?
He desperately wanted to believe her hesitation was because she didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted. She hadn’t had any problem telling him where and how to touch her last time, and he’d done his best to give her what she’d needed. Because he wanted to give her anything she wanted. Everything she wanted.
And he couldn’t do that outside the house, so he stepped inside. Into her. Her head popped up, her eyes wide and dark with what he prayed was desire.
“I missed you,” he said, cupping her cheeks in his hands and lifting her face to his. He didn’t kiss her, but they were right back to where they’d been earlier, before they’d been interrupted. Brooke was in his arms and he didn’t know how he’d get her out of his system.
“You said that.”
“Well, it’s true. I’ve never missed anyone like I missed you.”
Her hand snaked up behind his neck, holding him against her. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever felt, that touch of possession. “How much?” Her voice was whisper soft as she backed up, pulling him with her.
He slid one hand down her neck, tracing the valley between her breasts before he settled it on her hip and pulled her into him. The last time he’d held her like this, she’d looped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and begged him to make her come. He’d done exactly as she’d asked. Twice.
“So much, babe. I’ll do anything you want—you know that, right?”
Her eyelashes fluttered, the blush spreading down her neck and across her magnificent chest. He leaned down and pressed his lips against her pink skin, the warmth of her body setting his blood on fire. The last time he’d seen her breasts, he’d sucked on her rosy nipples until she’d moaned and thrashed beneath him.
Her chest heaved at his touch as her fingers curled around his neck, pulling him closer. “Anything?”
Yes—it was right there in her voice, waiting for him to come get it. Brushing his lips against her cheek, he slid both hands down her waist, around to her backside. He filled his hands with her, lifting her and pulling her against his erection. She gasped and he thought he might come right then. “Anything. You want me to stop, I’ll stop,” he murmured, pressing kisses that trailed over her skin until he could whisper in her ear. “You want me to leave, I’ll leave. Just say the word.”
Then he waited, the lobe of her ear resting against his lips, her bottom firm in his hands, the warmth of her breasts heating him up. This might be the last moment he could walk away from her, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be a dignified walk. Every square inch of his body—a few inches in particular—throbbed to be closer to her, to pull her into his arms and hold her for as long as he could.
He felt her inhale, then let the air out slowly, her honey-sweet breath caressing over his cheek. Each second that ticked by was an eternity of torture, but he forced himself to be patient.
“Don’t leave, Flash,” she whispered, her lips touching his cheek. He shuddered as she leaned forward, bringing her body completely flush with his, and kissed his neck. “Stay.”
Then she bit him—not hard, but with enough pressure to take everything that was already throbbing in his body and kick it into overdrive.
She didn’t have to ask twice. He kicked the door shut behind him and spun her around. Her back hit the door with a muffled thud and then Flash was kissing her, her sweetness overwhelming his senses, her body erasing everything but this moment.
He squeezed her ass and ground his aching erection against her, and, God help him, he couldn’t get enough. He closed a hand around one of her breasts, letting the heavy weight fill his palm.
She sank one hand into his hair, knocking his hat off. With the other, she grabbed his hand and jerked it away from her breast at the same time she pulled his head back.
“Shh!” she hissed, real fear in her eyes. “Quiet!”
“What is it, babe? What’s wrong?” He swallowed and, holding himself in check, did the right thing. “We can stop. We don’t...”
Shaking her head no, Brooke released his hand and stroked her thumb over his cheek. “I don’t want to stop but...it’s complicated, that’s all.”
“Just so we’re clear—you’re not married?” She shook her head no again and he almost sagged in relief. “Engaged?”
She gave him the saddest of smiles, one that did some mighty funny things to his heart. “No. Just... I need you, Flash. Like before.” Her voice was barely a whisper, something he felt more than he heard. “But you have to be quiet and don’t touch my breasts.”
He gave her a strange look—if he was remembering correctly, she’d absolutely loved it when he’d played with her breasts.
“Please,” she said softly, pulling him back down to her. “Just one more time, like it used to be. And afterwards... I’ll understand, no matter what happens.”
He stared at her. What the hell was going on? He was missing something, and he couldn’t tell if it was bad or really bad.
“Babe,” he said, hoping to reassure her, and he made damn sure to do it quietly. “If another night—or another weekend is what you need—that’s what I want, too.” He touched his forehead to hers. “Just tell me.”
Breathing hard, she didn’t reply right away. Then her beautiful green eyes fluttered open, and even before she spoke, Flash knew what her answer would be.
Yes.
He covered her mouth with a hard kiss, stuck in between this exact moment right now and an al
most identical one last year. This is what he wanted—Brooke pressed against him, her mouth opening for his, her teeth scraping his lip. She dug her fingernails into his scalp, the flash of pain burning bright into pleasure.
Oh, yeah—she pushed him and tormented him like no other woman ever had and he loved it.
Then she jerked her head away from his. “Condoms,” she hissed, her voice soft but serious. “Now.”
“Bed?” he asked, reaching to get the packet from his back pocket.
“No—can’t wait.” While he struggled with the foil wrapper on the condom, she went to work on his belt buckle.
God, she really couldn’t wait.
He groaned as her fingers closed around him, and he almost dropped the condom when she stroked up, then down.
“I missed you too, Flash,” she said, her mouth at his neck again. “No one makes me feel the way you do.”
Then her teeth scraped over his skin and she squeezed him, and if he had been able to think right now, he might pause to break that statement down. But he couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel her hands on him, feel the warmth of her breasts pressing against his chest.
She needed him. It was a hell of a thing.
Somehow, he got the condom on and got her skirt lifted. Thank goodness she had on a thin pair of panties. Flash didn’t even bother to pull them down. He just shoved them aside and positioned himself at her entrance. The smell of her sex hit his nose like a bomb going off, and he groaned again.
“Now,” Brooke breathed in his ear, hitching one leg over his hip. “Now, Flash. Now, now now...”
He slid his hands under her ass to lift her and then, with one thrust, he sank into her wet heat.
“Oh,” she moaned, and he swallowed that sound with another kiss.
For a moment, he couldn’t do anything but stand there as sensations swamped him.
For a year he’d been trying to forget how right she felt surrounding him, how perfectly they fit together.
It hadn’t worked.
His for One Night Page 4