Tears stung her eyes. The warmth of his embrace threw the switch on her tight controls. She’d beaten her emotions down, stayed her tears by sheer force of will. Pres’s affectionate hug melted the constricting band around her feelings. Blinking couldn’t stop the water in her eyes from dripping down her cheeks onto his shoulder.
Pres clasped her shoulders and moved her back, a quizzical look on his face. “What did I do?”
She shook her head, emotion wadded into a hard ball in her chest, cutting off speech. He raised his eyebrows. She stroked his cheek with her thumb, lowering her lids to avoid his gaze. He tipped her chin up, but still she turned away.
“Is it me?”
She waved her hand at him.
“Then, what is it?”
“I’m scared,” she whispered.
“Of me?” he asked. His eyebrows shot up.
Brooke shook her head then lowered it to his shoulder as a sob escaped her throat. The flood of repressed emotion bubbling up like lava in a volcano frightened her, but she was powerless to stop it. She clutched his arms, burying her face in his neck to muffle the sound. Pres pulled her flush up against him and tightened his grip. He rocked her slightly while planting kisses on her head.
“It’s gonna be okay. Everything’ll work out. You’ll see.”
She pushed against him and sat back, reaching for a tissue. “How can you say that? My whole life has been destroyed. I have no job, no career, no way to pay the rent.”
“You’re smart. You’ll get your life back, maybe a new life. A different one. A better one.”
“But I—”
“And if you need money for the rent, I can lend you some. I’m sure Ruth’ll help, too.”
She stared into his eyes. He brushed a stray tear off her cheek and smiled.
“You’d lend me money?”
“Of course. I’m doing okay since I made that sale.”
“You’d do that for me?” Again, water crept into her eyes.
“Hey, no waterworks! It’s just a loan.”
“But you don’t know me.”
“I’ve known you for several months. Ruth thinks the world of you. And I think the world of her. You’re not a deadbeat, are you?” He made an exaggerated worry face.
“No, no, I’d never leave you holding the bag. I always pay my debts. I’m very—”
Pres put his finger over her lips. “I get how hard this is for you. Dreams, plans shattered to bits. Now, you have to regroup. You can do it. You’re smart, and you’re strong.” He leaned in to brush her lips with his. “Enough talking.”
Brooke wound her arms around his neck. His clear, blue eyes looked back into hers with warmth and a touch of lust. She smiled. Arching her back, her nipples grazed his chest. The tickle from his hair made them hard.
“Feel better?” he whispered in her ear, snaking his tongue out to lick her neck.
She sighed. “Much.”
“Nothing like a good cry.”
“I know. With the right person…cleansing.” She kissed his shoulder.
“Hey, don’t waste that,” he said, lowering his lips to hers.
His kiss was sweet at first then he swiped over her lips with his tongue. She opened, and he entered, possessing her mouth. His hands caressed her back as he gently eased her down on the couch. She ran her palms up and down his back, feeling the strength of his muscles. She dug her thumbs into his shoulders and spread her legs. Pres settled between them, resting his weight on his knees, his pecs pillowed against her breasts.
Brooke forgot to hop into the bathroom to fix her makeup, to put a cold compress on her puffy eyelids. What she looked like never entered her mind. Unlike Lloyd, Pres didn’t seem to care. His ardor increased as he kissed his way to her peak. A hard suck from him made her gasp.
“Too strong?”
“Maybe. A little.”
He continued to inflict sweet, but gentler, torment on each nipple with his lips and tongue. Heat settled in her abdomen, making her squirm. Need pushed her past any qualms she had about Pres, a man unlike any others she had dated. His expert touch stoked her fire. Growing trust allowed her to let go. Maybe it was his connection to Ruth, or the way he had behaved with her this evening, but she believed he wouldn’t hurt her.
Desire took over her body. She wound her legs around his waist. His erection pushed against her through his jeans. Thrusting her hips up, Brooke rolled them against his shaft. He moaned.
“Oh, God, Brooke.” He closed his eyes. Her fingers detected a slight shake in his shoulders as she continued stroking him. He dropped his head to kiss her belly then sat up. He pushed to his feet and shucked his jeans and boxers in one motion. Then, he slid her dress off, placing it carefully on a nearby chair. She arched again and wiggled her hips. He stared at the lacy white panties with hot eyes before hooking his thumbs in the waistband.
He slid them down slowly, a flush stealing into his cheeks. The underwear didn’t have far to go before Brooke was totally naked. Although it was her first time with Pres, she wasn’t embarrassed or shy. She opened her arms to him. He tossed the silk garment aside and removed the back cushions from the sofa, placing them on two chairs. Brooke stared at his erection as anticipation ramped up the heat growing between her thighs.
He fished in his pants for his wallet and withdrew a condom.
“I’m on the pill.”
“Would you prefer to use one, anyway?”
“Do you have any STD’s?”
He shook his head. “Not a very romantic topic.”
Her gaze traveled his length, taking in his wide shoulders, perfect chest, and firm abs, though not washboard. Shows he doesn’t spend all his time working out. His shaft was impressive, and his thighs thick with muscle. His calves were in perfect proportion.
Then, she noticed it. A fit of giggling grabbed her gut. She covered her mouth with her hands as she rolled from side to side.
“What? What?” he asked, looking around.
She pointed to the floor. There he stood, stark naked except for his socks. His flush deepened, this time from embarrassment. He yanked at them.
“Now, where were we?”
She patted the pillow next to her, and he grinned broadly as he lowered onto one knee. “You’re stunning. I hope you know that.”
“You think so?”
“You’ve got everything. Face, body, hair,” he said, combing his fingers through her long, dark locks. “You’re a wet dream come to life.”
“Nice talk.”
“Sorry. Yeah. Sorry. Guy talk. Can you shift over a bit?”
“Shall I open the sofa?”
“Yeah.” He offered her his hand and together they pulled open the couch. The bed had pink striped sheets. Pres stretched out on his back and waved Brooke toward him. She crawled up the mattress. He grabbed her under the arms and lifted her on top of him. His hands went to work. One closed over her breast while the other squeezed her rear end.
She felt him get even harder as she lay atop him. Brooke kissed him, letting her passion flow. She drew her knees up, flanking each of his thighs. He moved one hand over her rear and up into her wetness. His touch startled her. Then, as he set about exploring her with experienced fingers, she relaxed, focusing on the sensations he was creating.
He found her sensitive spot quickly and caressed her there for a bit before sliding a finger into her. She gasped and her hips bucked when the digit hit home. Brooke closed her own fingers around him. She moved her hand up and down, making him groan loudly.
“Oh, God, Brooke, baby, honey. Oh, God.” His eyes shut.
She grinned as the control shifted from him to her. Pushing up on her knees, she rubbed him along her wet flesh.
He gripped her hips. “When you do that I’m—”
“Shhh,” she said, stopping his words with her lips. As she kissed him, she guided him into her, easing down on him. When he was buried deep inside, she shuddered with pleasure. Brooke sat up straight, threw her head back, and moaned.
Pres slid his hands up her abs and over her breasts then back down. He pinched her peaks gently. Brooke flattened her palms on his chest, hunching her shoulders forward, leaning hard on him. She lifted her hips slightly, then a little more, then down again. She rose and came down again, slowly, teasing him.
“Christ, woman! You’re making me crazy.”
She laughed and rode him, moving up and down steadily. She swiveled her hips and squeezed with her inner muscles. His eyes flew open, and he gripped her middle. She watched his biceps move as he guided her up and down, faster and faster.
Control slipped away from her, replaced by need. Brooke repositioned her hands to the bed just above his shoulders and shifted her weight to her arms. She moved with the rhythm Pres set. He closed his hand on her breast and squeezed. She opened her mouth and uttered a loud groan as the tension inside her coiled up, ready to spring. As fast as it gathered, it burst, sending pleasure shooting through her body. She cried out, throwing her head back, her long hair swinging with the movement.
Brooke licked her lips and trained her gaze on Pres. He shot her a lopsided grin, as he glided his hands up her back. After plastering her to his chest, he tucked a hand under her bottom and rolled them over. Control of their lovemaking shifted back to him. His eyes darkened and glittered with desire. He kissed her hard then pushed up on his knees. He lifted her leg to his shoulder, and she raised her other knee. He muttered something she couldn’t understand and pounded into her.
Brooke moaned. “Oh. My. God.” Her sensitive flesh sizzled as he filled her completely. Spent nerve endings blazed back to life. He ruled her body. Brooke had never lost control this way to man. She liked it.
“Oh, baby. Honey,” he said, burying his face in her shoulder as his hips drove his shaft in and out of her.
Brooke’s palms rested on his chest for a moment before she gripped his arms. The tightening inside her grew more and more unbearable with each thrust until he pushed her over the edge into another orgasm. She bit into his shoulder as her body released the tension. Shortly afterward, Pres bent his head and moaned softly. After three hard pumps, he stopped. Her name slipped from his lips.
Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the bed. His neck and back were damp. When he raised his head, Brooke leaned forward and ran her tongue over his lips.
“Mmm, salty,” she said.
“Incredible.” He shook his head.
“Monumental.” She gazed into his eyes.
“Awe-inspiring.”
“Earth-shaking.”
“Dizzying.”
“Good one, Pres. Shout-out worthy.”
“Shout-out worthy?” He cocked an eyebrow and laughed.
“My mind is blank. All my blood is…somewhere else.”
He laughed again, harder this time. She joined him. He eased out of her and flopped down on his side. “You’re so…unexpected,” he said.
“Me? You’re the surprise of the century.” She sat up.
“I am?”
“Master lover. Wow. Hot.” She fell back on the bed and fanned herself with her hand.
“You’re an inspiration. You’re so…so…sexy.” The way he dropped his voice an octave to emphasize the last word made her shiver. He tucked her into his shoulder and ran his fingers through her hair. She drew circles on his chest. He kissed her forehead. Brooke tipped her chin up and gazed into his eyes. The warmth she saw there surprised her.
Then, Pres left her to fish his phone out of his pants.
“The phone? You’re calling someone, now?” Annoyance crept into her tone.
He raised his hand as he focused on his cell.
“Marv? Yeah, Pres. About Buddy. What?” He laughed. “You know me well. That’s right. Is it all right if he stays? I’ll be home by ten. Yeah. Thanks. Okay. Light with one sugar, right? Goodnight.” He put the phone down on the chair with his clothes.
“Buddy?”
“Yeah, my neighbor, Marvin, walks Buddy for me when I have a date and won’t be home until late.”
“He guessed you were staying over?”
Pres blushed. “It happens sometimes. Marv can read me like a book.”
“So, he’ll keep Buddy tonight?”
“Yep. Can’t forget my best friend, can I?”
“Absolutely not!” Brooke pushed to her feet and retreated to the bathroom. When she came out, she handed him a blue towel and a fresh toothbrush.
He kissed her. When he returned, the lights were off, and Brooke was in bed. He slipped in beside her. “Com’ere,” he said, pulling on her arm. She scooted over next to him. Pres turned her on her side, spooning her.
“How close do you want to be?”
She inched closer, squishing her rear against him.
“Hey, not too close, or I’ll never get to sleep.”
“Huh?”
“Any tighter against me, and I’ll have to make love to you again.”
“Oh.” She chuckled. “Sorry.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry. I’m not.” Pres leaned over and kissed her cheek.
Brooke turned toward him. “Try that again.” Their lips joined for a brief kiss.
“Goodnight, kitten.”
“Goodnight.” She paused. “Thank you for the best date ever.”
“My pleasure. And it was…my pleasure.”
A smile settled on her face as she closed her eyes. With Pres’s arm around her, his hand resting on her breast, his chest pressed against her back, she relaxed completely. A sense of safety surrounded her like a warm vapor, lulling her to sleep.
Chapter Eight
As the sun poked in the window, Pres began to stir. He glanced at the clock. He usually got up at six, so he didn’t flinch when he read the time. Six fifteen. Slept in. After last night, no wonder. He chuckled to himself.
Getting a jump on the day, writing when the world was quiet, worked for him. He cracked an eye open and spied Brooke lying next to him. Her dark hair was splayed out across the pillow. Her face turned toward him looked beautiful in peaceful repose. The absence of worry softened her features. He wanted to kiss her, but didn’t dare wake her.
So, it wasn’t a dream. He grinned. Closing his eyes, he relived in his mind some of their heated moments together. His thoughts drifted to sharing the bed, when at three, he had rolled over and come into contact with her soft skin. How she had hugged him in the middle of the night, cozying up, pressing against his chest.
Pres missed the intimacy of overnight. Many New York women didn’t go for a guy without a steady income. He took affection where he could find it and didn’t expect all-nighters.
The sheet and lightweight blanket lay a few inches above her waist. Looking at Brooke’s nakedness made him hard. He wanted to touch her breast, peeking out from under her arm. He controlled himself, not wishing to wake her so early. God, she’s gorgeous. Sweet and soft.
He knitted his brow as he tried to reconcile the corporate advertising go-getter with the lovely, vulnerable woman sleeping by his side. He hadn’t liked the other Brooke much, the ‘type A’ girl. But as he gradually got to know her, the hard shell melted away. Sunday after Sunday, watching her with Ruth, hearing Brooke laugh and seeing her dressed in her mom’s retro outfits, he softened his judgment.
Last night, he had seen a totally different Brooke. She was hurt, wounded, without direction. She clung to him, sharing her pain, open, defenseless. Her plight touched him.
At first, he had thought she’d gotten her comeuppance. Her excessive confidence had bordered on arrogance. He had chuckled to himself about how he’d enjoy her slide from her lofty perch. But learning how she’d been betrayed, hearing her confess to being confused, scared, and rudderless, sympathy replaced his desire to see her fall.
After being sure he had her pegged, he now had to admit to himself he hadn’t known her at all. He’d seen different sides, like a surprise ball, the more he unwrapped, the more wonderful things he discovered. Her interest in his writing and her degree in Engli
sh brought her closer to his heart. It was a scary feeling for Pres, who put relationships on hold while he focused on breaking into the movie or television industry.
Short-term affairs were more his style. Brooke wasn’t a woman to cotton to short-term. She’d been with that asshole, Lloyd, for some time, he figured. Besides, he wasn’t finished unwrapping her, not ready to give her up.
He lay back down, staring at her, but couldn’t resist rubbing a few strands of her silky locks between his fingers. She moaned and turned away from him, yanking her hair out of his grasp. But she didn’t wake up. Sleep is the best thing for her. Next to sex with me. He chuckled to himself.
Pres pushed up on his hands, leaned over, kissed Brooke’s head, and left the bed as quietly as he could. He slipped on his boxers and headed for the kitchen. He filled the coffeemaker and fished around in the fridge for breakfast food. Finding a carton of eggs, he turned on the stove.
The sound of cracking eggs seemed to disturb Brooke. She moaned and raised her head, peeking out, barely above the back of the sofa. “What are you doing?”
“Making you some coffee and breakfast, kitten.” He took down two clean mugs from the cabinet and poured.
“It’s six-thirty!”
“Great to get an early start on the day,” he said, searching for a spatula.
“Early? It’s the middle of the night.”
“Sun’s up. Birds are chirping.”
“Are you always cheerful at this hour?” Brooke hunkered down, drawing the sheet up to her nose.
“I get up at six every morning.”
“Oh my God. An early riser. It’s Sunday, Pres.”
“So? I write seven days a week. Gotta stay in the habit.”
She groaned. He turned the heat down on the eggs and tiptoed over to the bed. In one swift movement, he ripped the sheet and blanket down. Brooke shrieked and curled up into a ball.
“Shy? Now?” He cocked an eyebrow. “Kinda late for that, isn’t it?”
She looked at him and giggled. “Maybe. Still. It’s daylight.”
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