Shit. I had to stop thinking about that, and mentally replaying what happened in the truck over and over. If I didn’t, my stiff cock would pop out of these damn jeans in search of the mouth she willingly offered up.
The night couldn't have gone worse. No doubt whatever happened between the two girls after we got there had to do with me, which sent Beks straight to the bar. Thank fuck she sat by the old man instead of the hundred assholes who were posted up watching her every move. Of course, she didn't notice all the eyes on her, but I did. Fuck, did I.
How in the hell did she go out and not get hit on every two steps? Maybe she did, which made the deepening feelings for her that much worse. Flying for the Night Stalkers required months away from home at a time. How could I leave a woman like her at home? It would drive me insane, wondering who was cozying up to her, only too eager to take my place between her legs.
That was another reason I knew I shouldn't tell her how I felt, or thought I felt, about her. We wouldn’t go anywhere with my jealous streak and inability to trust anyone around her. Which was fine. It wasn’t like I loved her. There was no way the gnawing in my gut or her always being on my mind was a signal of love. Not that I'd know, I guess. But no way love was the reason I couldn't focus when she was gone, or even when she was close. Or why the only time I smiled or laughed was due to her. Love wasn't the reason I was dreading two days from now when I had to head back to Kentucky.
It was all happening too fast. The feelings, the intensity, the desire for only her—ever. How could that develop after only a couple of days? Love didn’t happen that fast. Lust did.
It was lust. She was fucking beautiful, sexy as hell, plus that damn hilarious, crude mouth of hers. That was what attracted me. What I lusted after.
Attraction didn't mean love. It meant sex.
She knew I was leaving and understood it was a short-term thing.
I was fine.
I needed to get a fucking grip. She made me weak, and that was the last thing I needed.
“What do you mean like déjà vu?” she asked with a whooshed breath, like it took all her willpower.
Those soft brown eyes flicked up and found mine in the dark room. I took a single step, then another, needing to shorten the space between us.
“It means you, our past, us, now it’s all connected. I can't figure it out. You know how much I need control, and with you, the second you walk into the damn room, all the control I have vanishes.”
“What does that tell you, Brenton?” Hope lifted her tone and brightened her damp, sad eyes.
No, I wouldn't lead her on. Not again.
“It means you're sexy as hell and I want to fuck you every time we're in the same room.”
Her eyes never left mine. “Is that all?”
“That's me, Beks. I'm a selfish, arrogant bastard.”
The disappointed shake of her head hurt worse than her friend’s hit to the balls.
“Right, I guess things never change.” She wiped her hands down her bare legs, drawing my attention before reaching up to tuck her long hair behind her ears. “This is only about your head thing and sex. Thanks for the reminder.”
The small, sad voice stole the air from my lungs.
“Beks….” I paused, not knowing what to say. No way in hell could I tell her the truth.
“It's fine, Brenton.” A broad, fake smile was planted across her face when she finally looked up. “So, what can I do to help? Want me to verify if some of the things you’re remembering are real or not?”
The relief that seeped in when she didn't press the topic further confirmed I was a selfish prick.
I shrugged and sat on the bed beside her. “I think after everything that happened tonight, I need to know that I never hurt you on purpose. And I'm not just talking about the wreck. I need to know I was a better man than my father. Maybe that I am a better man than my father.”
My eyes widened at the brush of her thigh over mine to slide on to my lap. After nestling her knees on either side of my hips, she gripped my face between her clammy hands.
“You were never and will never be your father. You hear me, Brenton Graves? You might share his last name and his DNA, but you are nothing, nothing like that awful man. Tonight was a complete accident, and still you felt utter shame. I saw it. I saw how defeated you were at the thought of me hurt because of you. And I know it’s not just me. It would be the same with any woman. You're not your father's son.”
I weaved my fingers into her hair and pulled her forehead to mine.
A long pause of comfortable silence filled the large bedroom before she spoke again.
“You flew to Dallas to help me. That night. I texted you something, and you came. Never in a million years did I expect you to come that night, but you did. It was a shitstorm in our house when you got there, but it didn't faze you. You marched right past my belligerent father into my room, packed my bags, and grabbed my hand on the way out.”
“Then why did—or do—you hate me so much? The wreck was my fault, and your injuries, but if I was there with the right intentions, why be so pissed all these years?”
Her arms and legs tightened like I was her lifeline.
“That night, your dad, your grandfather, my father—everyone found out about us. What we’d been doing behind their backs. I was seventeen, Brenton, and you were almost twenty-one. You were the grandson of an oil tycoon, and I was the help's daughter. No one approved of us, and we knew that, which was why we never told anyone.”
“Okay, but—”
“They gave you an ultimatum after the wreck. Your trust fund or me. You chose the money.” Hot tears rolled down my neck as her body trembled on top of me.
“No,” I bit out. “No, Beks. You had it wrong. I would never have done that. I would never choose money over anyone, especially not you.”
“You didn't even have the balls to tell me to my face. You had your damn attorneys write up an agreement, and then they marched into my hospital room, threw it on the bed, and told me… told me you didn't want to see me again. That we were a mistake.”
“I didn't. I wouldn't.” Tension seized my lower back and crept up my spine. “If you say I'm not my father and believe that, then you know I wouldn't have done that. I know I can't remember, but you have to believe me, Beks, I wouldn't have done that.”
“I do,” she cried. “A part of me never believed you were the one to make the choice.”
Arms wrapped around her back, I rolled us so my weight pushed her against the soft bed. Resting on my elbows, I held her face between my hands and waited for her eyes to open.
Watery, they finally met mine, and I said, “You have every right to hate me.”
Wet lashes fluttered, and a small smile pulled at her lips. “You're a moron if you believe that, Brenton. I might’ve thought I hated you, but no matter what, I always loved you more.”
“No,” I said, horrified. Anger, hate, resentment—I could handle those feelings, but love wasn't an emotion I'd ever felt or been shown except by the woman beneath me.
“Unfortunately for me, and you too by your response, yeah I do. I did then too. It was why it hurt so bad. Over time, that love grew hard and jagged, which looked like hate, but underneath it all I still loved you. Still love you.”
Maybe it was to stop her from saying it again since my heart raced each time the words “I love you” passed her lips, or perhaps it was to show her how I felt since I couldn't voice it. Either way, I closed the gap between us and pressed my lips against hers.
In a desperate request, I slid the tip of my tongue along the seam of her lips, begging for her to open. With a moan, her soft lips parted, giving me full access. Hand in her hair, I urged her harder against me as I angled my lips to deepen the kiss. Every other kiss before was fucking nothing. This right now, devoted to each other and communicating the taut connection neither of us could explain, was the world.
Beneath me, her legs wrapped around my hips and her heels dug into my ass
. I groaned into her mouth when her sweet scent floated up from between us. My hips flexed, pushing me harder against her tender spot.
Beks’s lips pulled from mine. “Brenton, stop being a damn tease.”
“We're taking this slow, baby.”
Her loud, frustrated whimper shot a bolt of electricity straight to my throbbing cock. My hands found the hem of her white T-shirt and dragged it over her head. It hadn't hit the floor before her bra was off as well.
Damn, I loved her tits.
Resting my weight on her pelvis, I wrapped both hands around her breasts, savoring the way her eyes shuttered closed with each pass of my thumbs over her peaked nipples.
Her back arched off the bed at the first flick and pinch between my fingers. Unable to hold back a second longer, I sucked a pebbled nipple between my lips. A thick desire-filled chuckle vibrated against her sensitive skin as her hand wove into my hair, pushing me closer.
“So bossy,” I murmured against her soft skin, then took a small nip. Her tremble and groan pushed the thought of going slow aside.
The bed squeaked beneath my shifting weight. Elbow on the mattress, I kept my mouth on her while I skimmed the tips of my fingers down her side, sinking lower with each pass. Heat guided me to the spot she urged me toward with the bucking of her hips.
I stifled a groan of my own with my mouth against her neck at the slickness I found waiting for me. At the first dip of my fingers, she shifted in a silent request for more. Each push rewarded me with a lift of her hips and a soft curse from her lips.
“Brenton, I want you,” she begged. “Please.”
Desire filled every inch of my soul at her splayed out beneath me, her long dark hair strewn across the bed, her eyes soft and fixed on me. With each deep breath, her fantastic tits rose and fell, her perfect nipples hardening further under my focused stare.
“Say it again,” I demanded through clenched teeth. Hell, I was hanging on by a thread. I needed to get my shit together or this wouldn't last a full minute once I was inside her.
She repeated her begging plea over and over as her head thrashed against the bed.
Beks stilled when I pushed off the bed, her eyes focusing where my fingers worked the snaps of my shirt. Her upper teeth sank into her bottom lip and her eyes flicked up to meet mine. The soft cotton of my shirt brushed over my shoulders and floated to the floor.
“Hell, you're like a real-life GI Joe action figure.”
I chuckled and unbuttoned my jeans, allowing them to pool on the floor, leaving me standing in boxer briefs.
“Do you know how sexy you are?” Her burning gaze licked fire along every inch of me. For the first time, I knew the person in my bed saw all of me. Not just my family name, my trust fund, or the body I spent hours in the gym sculpting. No, this gorgeous woman thought I, just Brenton, was sexy. “If you're ever in trouble on a mission, you better hope the enemy is all women. All you'd have to do is strip to disarm them. Hell, I'm sure they'd drop trou and fight each other over who got your dick in them first.”
“Woman,” I groaned, gripping my throbbing cock. “The shit you say.”
“Sorry,” she grumbled. A faint stain of pink flushed across her cheeks.
“I lo—” I squeezed my dick harder at the near slip of the tongue. “It's perfect. Like you.”
A shy smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “Enough talking. Take those off.” With two fingers, she gestured to my boxer briefs.
“Yes, ma'am.” I slipped the underwear down my thighs, relishing in her wide-eyed stare. “Skirt off. Now.” While she fumbled with the button and zipper, I pulled open the nightstand drawer. Box of condoms in hand, I turned back to the bed.
“Please tell me those are new and not thirteen years old.”
I shot her an incredulous look as I rolled on the thin rubber. Hand still gripping my cock, I stared between her legs. “No way I gave you up for money,” I whispered more to myself than her. “I'm a damn fool for forgetting us.”
“If you don't crawl on top of me right now, I'll start without you,” she groaned with her eyes closed, a grimace crossing her features.
Hell. This woman. Could there ever be anyone more perfect for me?
Smart, honest, straightforward, and just as demanding.
I love her.
The thought jarred through my mind, but acceptance of it sent a soothing wave through my veins. I'd have to figure it out later though, because she wasn't kidding about starting without me.
“Stop,” I growled, smacking her hand away from between her legs.
Both her ankles in my grasp, I yanked her ass to the edge of the bed. Every nerve, every sense zeroed in on the heat pouring from between her legs, drawing me closer. Right hand on her hip, I angled her off the bed and slid in an inch.
I palmed her breast with my left hand and teased her nipple between my fingers as I pushed in to the hilt. In unison, we groaned at the perfect fit. I became lost in the way her soft hip molded into my hand, giving me something to hold as I slid in and out. We moved in a slow cadence, giving this moment of two lovers rejoining the reverence it deserved, until the fervor grew unbearable, the urgency pushing me harder and faster.
Curses and versions of my name spilled from her lips in hushed whispers, insisting I go deeper. She was too much; we were too much. I only had seconds before I exploded.
“Beks,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.
Shouted unrecognizable words filled the room as she shuddered, clenching tight. With a loud curse of my own, I sank deep once, twice, and collapsed on top of the bed, barely catching my weight on my elbows before I crushed her.
Her soft, muscular arms wrapped around my sweat-slick neck and pulled.
“I don't want to hurt you,” I said, eyes closed, still coming down from the most intense orgasm ever.
“I'm not breakable, B. I want to feel you on me. All of you.”
Hesitantly I lowered, putting my full weight on her. Those arms tightened, and her nose nuzzled against my slick neck. It felt right, perfect even. Then again, it wasn't surprising, since every moment we were together seemed like it was made just for us. But the clock was ticking until I left.
And I would leave.
The army would never let me out of the contract just because I fell in love with my childhood sweetheart. Even if they did, would I want them to?
The army was my life, one I'd never considered leaving since joining, but what if she was my cure? The one to not only keep me from my addictions but take away the need altogether, to soothe the festering anger and rage boiling in my gut on a minute-by-minute basis?
I shifted to stare down at the beauty beneath me.
She was more than a cure.
This woman was my salvation.
20
Rebeka
My desert-dry mouth pulled me from a deep, comfortable sleep in urgent need of water. The bed dipped and sheets tangled around my hips when I rolled over in search of the glass Brenton set aside last night. The thoughtful man was worried that I'd wake up dehydrated due to the cheap tequila, plus the strenuous exercise we put in through the night between the sheets.
I relished every gulped drop of the room-temperature water before setting the empty glass back on the nightstand. Snuggling back under the covers, I tucked my hands beneath the pillow, pulling it tight against my cheek to stare at the still-snoozing man beside me.
Last night was…. I bit back a smile and squeezed my thighs together to relieve some of the building pressure. How in the hell was that even possible? We went round after round; I shouldn't have anything left to get all hot and bothered again. But with my very own naughty, tatted GI Joe snuggled beside me, how could my body not react was the real question.
Yep, I was in deep shit.
Stuck in the emotional muck with no way out.
I loved him, really loved him, and last night only solidified it. I didn't just love him—I was in love with him, and something told me he saw us as more than a dive
rsion until he left. But he wouldn't admit, maybe not even to himself.
“What time is it, and why are you staring at me?” he grumbled before turning his handsome face away from my adoring eyes.
I glanced at my phone and then tucked it back under the pillow. My stomach dipped at the empty screen. Not a single text from Ryder.
“Six,” I said, unable to hide my disappointed tone.
His head rolled along to the pillow to face me. “What?”
“Six. The time is six.”
“Not that. What's wrong?”
I sighed and tucked a lock of unruly morning hair behind my ear. “It's nothing. I don't have any missed texts from Ryder is all.”
Something I couldn’t read flashed behind his eyes before flicking to my injured cheek. “It doesn't look bad this morning. Does it hurt?” At the shake of my head, he rested his palm on my cheek and brushed the pad of his thumb along the bruise. “What do you want to do about Ryder?”
The soft sheets rustled when I turned to lie on my back and look up to the ceiling. “I don't know. Give it a few days, I guess? It was just so odd and out of character for her. Something else is going on.” I cut my eyes to him. “But she and I can talk after you're gone. It'll be easier without you around to rile her up again.”
The hand that was on my cheek slid south and dipped under the expensive sheets to explore lower. At the first brush of his fingers, my eyes shuttered closed and a low moan escaped.
“I'll never have enough of you,” he whispered. Slick, soft lips brushed against my neck just as his fingers pushed easily inside me.
A gasp, not my own, snapped my eyes open. To my horror, the lead housekeeper, Mrs. Hathway, stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and flaming red cheeks.
“Can I help you with something?” Brenton asked, utterly unfazed by the interruption. I let out a small squeak when his fingers slid deeper.
“I thought… I wanted…,” she stammered, then took a step back.
“While you're here, please make sure there's plenty of coffee and breakfast for Beks and me here. We have a flight to catch and will be leaving shortly.”
Vote Then Read: Volume III Page 235