by Lane, Stacy
Jo’s worth all the excruciating patience, the torture dredged up from missing her stunning beauty and her vulnerable mind that gives her more power than she understands. This longing for her forced me to feel all the depths of pain. Beyond the physical surface, beyond the struggle, is a shining reward, because I’ve felt it.
Everything in my life has come easy or natural to me. Pining for her is only the beginning, and maybe it’ll end in disaster, after all, the word does not associate with optimism, but feeling every layer of emotion in something, or someone, means you cherish it more. Because now I’ll know what is at stake to lose.
When I realized Jo was here, inside Triplets, everything that has been wrong for over a week came to a head. I didn’t want to see her across a room, smile, and go about our night. I sure as hell didn’t want to witness another guy hitting on her. She should be by my side, with me, and in the moments she isn’t, I wanted security and trust that she’s with me.
Taking a leap of faith—the inner voice sounding a lot like Alex—I went after her without a game plan or understanding of how it might all turn out in the end.
Fighting the thick crowd slowed me down to make it to where she stood at the bar talking with the new-about-to-be-canned guy Josh. Drinks in hand, she headed back to Taytum and Nick and I caught up when she was on her no more hockey bars tangent.
I was very pleased to hear she was having trouble getting over me.
Having the talk I never saw myself preparing for flew out the window the second she kissed me.
All hope of getting my “I want more of you” point across slipped away with the removal of her shirt.
Her big eyes behind the lenses darkened to a deep forest green at dusk. I fell into the dark depths, serenity covering the thick air. She blinked and the fog deepened. I was lost inside and I never wanted to escape.
I came at her, pulling her chest to mine and her back pressing to the door. Jo’s all I’ve wanted and thought about for the last week. And now she’s in my arms, body pressed to my body.
My hands ran over her shoulders, and down her back. She squirmed at my touch, dropping her mouth open when my fingers grazed the sides of her breasts. I sucked on her swollen, pouty bottom lip.
Jo’s fingers dove in my hair, running up the nape of my neck and beneath the hat. The cap fell to the floor with a hollow thump.
Her skin, like the softest silk under my rough hands, is warm. My open palms run down the delicate dip at her waist and over the taut ridges of her abdomen. Her body toned and strong, more than I remember from our first time.
I unsnapped the button at the top of her jeans and slid them off. Releasing her lips, I drop my gaze.
Fuck. Me.
The nude cups of her bra was translucent and peddled nipples were pushing the limits of the lace. Matching panties showed me a view of the star in all my fantasies.
Her heat burned my palm when I cupped her right between the legs. Jo released a satisfied sigh, and then a cry for more. Slipping the lace to the side, I watched her eyes roll closed when I dipped a finger between the wet, scorching folds.
Her legs quivered. I pumped my finger a few times before adding another. She looped her arm tighter around my neck.
I kept thrusting as I reached for my wallet, pulling out a foiled wrapper before tossing the rest to the floor. Pulling out, fingers soaked and hearing Jo’s grunt of disapproval, I grinned as I pulled myself from the trap of my jeans.
Jo’s eyes hooded as she watched me slide on the rubber. Reaching between her legs again, I pulled her panties to the side with one hand as I grabbed ahold of her left thigh with the other. Fingers digging into the skin and bringing her closer until I was fully inside her.
Trapped once again, but this time in her warm and constricting grasp around my cock.
I settle there for only a moment, the feel of being inside her stopping the air flow to my lungs.
Then I grip her thigh harder, my other hand bracing against the wall. I take her fast, pounding in and out with so much momentum the pine door creaks.
Jo’s hand latches onto mine behind her head.
Dipping my face, I suck on the spot beneath her jaw, feeling her nails dig harder into the skin on my wrist.
“Brooks,” she moans my name and I grind with a hurry.
Fuck I’m so close. She completely undoes me.
I lift my head just in time to see her unravel. Eyes closing, mouth falling open as she tries to hold in her cries of pleasure.
I stroke in time with the pulse of her coming around me, and then lose myself in the glorious trap I’m buried inside. Lock me in, chain it shut, and lay down concrete just for safe measures. I never want out.
Exerted and catching our breath, the sounds from beyond trickle inside the office. Her hand drops away, fingernails detaching from flesh, and falls to her side like a limp noodle. Jo sags against the door, opening her eyes with caution.
I reach out to straighten her glasses that were knocked loose and sitting askew on her nose. Cupping her face, I kiss her. When I don’t feel her responding I pull back to see her stunned gaze sharp and perplexed.
I’ll take it as a victory.
Finding tissues on Cam’s desk, I clean up and tuck myself back inside with a zip. I peer across the room at Jo who has turned her back to me while she dresses. I catch a barely there glimpse of her rounded bottom before the jeans are covering her up. She bends over, swiping her shirt off the floor and pulls it over her head. Tugging down at the sides, my name and number reveal like the hanging of new banner inside the arena.
She turns to face me as she’s pulling her long hair out from beneath the blue shirt. She seems worried and shy when she steps toward me holding out my hat.
“We just had sex in Cam’s office.” Her hand brushes away a loose strand of hair that’s fallen from her ponytail, voice flat.
“If it makes you feel any better, it’s a quarter mine.”
“No, not really.” She shuffles her feet, glancing up at me and then looking away.
There will be no retreating this time.
“I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but stop.” I bob and weave until I get her in my snare.
“If you were inside my head you would see it’s not that easy,” she mutters in a lost way.
I lay a kiss on her forehead, and then one at each temple. “That’s what I like about your mind. Trying to figure you out is like working at one of those puzzles with thousands of pieces. It’s the hardest, most satisfying reward.”
“If you really like puzzles, I guess.”
“Are you kidding. I can’t wait to be an old man and live in a retirement home and work on the same puzzle day after day.”
She laughs softly. “Whatever.”
The handle on the office door rattles. Jo and I turn and stare.
We wait a few clicks, but whoever it was seemed to have given up easily. Which means it wasn’t Cam.
“We should go before whoever that was gets Cam.”
Jo follows closely behind me, hiding her face from view when I unlock and open the door. I take her hand in mine when we’re in the hall. We step out into the boisterous room that hasn’t dimmed in noise or capacity.
Taytum and Nick are still playing darts when we join them again. I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know her friends that well, but as we approach their table, the looks they are sending Jo has me believing she’s discussed us before.
Taytum grins, one brow nearly touching her hairline while her fiancé tries hiding his smile behind his drink. I peer over at Jo, the subtle shake of her head as she glares at her friends distracts me only a little before my eyes veer up.
Her ponytail droops, having fallen from its tight hold and hangs to one side. From the back, near the black band tying her mane together, loose pieces have been pulled out and are standing up from the crown of her head in an arch.
Mm. I did that.
“Did you have a nice talk?” Taytum lengthens the last
word with speculation.
Jo grabs a small, red bag with a long strap from the table. “Brooks is going to take me home.”
Her friend narrows her eyes, mouth twitching. “Your jacket is in my car. We’re heading out too. Walk together?”
Jo turns to me, slinging her purse across her body. “Wanna go get your car and meet me up front so I can get my jacket?”
“Yeah,” I nod. “Nice seeing you two again.”
“Same to you, man.” Nick bobs his head, wrapping an arm around his girl.
They walk toward the front, I head to the back. Jo glances back one more time before stepping outside, a small, secretive tilt to her lips.
I get stopped a couple times from fans, one asking for a photo and another just wanted to tell me good game. Cam leans into the bar on our entrance side. Hand in my front pocket, I fiddle with my car key and salute a good night to my brother.
“Brooksy,” Cam calls out.
I look over just as he flings a small object over the heads of others, aiming for me. Raising my hand, I catch the square, leather wallet. My wallet.
Cam’s mouth spreads wide, showing off a toothy grin. “I’m not gonna find anything on the tape from the camera I have in the office, am I?”
I turn to face him fully. In a clipped tone, I ask, “What camera?”
His stupid face smiles harder. “I’m just bullshitting. There’s no camera. I’d be in trouble a lot if there was.”
“Fucker,” I mumble, turning back to the exit.
“Tell Jo I said good night!”
I flip him the bird over my shoulder.
Passing the boys, I say more good nights and see you tomorrows. I avoid Amber’s death glare from her spot near the door, arms crossed over her busty chest, one leg over the other, bobbing up and down with impatience.
I hop inside my car and drive to the front. Jo’s friends stand with her at the back end of their car. She hugs them as I’m coming to a stop.
Once she’s inside and buckled in, I take off.
“I’m not sure my jacket was worth the questioning I just endured from Taytum.” Her head falls to the headrest, rolling toward me in the darkness. The light denim jacket hugging her slim shoulders. “And you could have told me about my hair.”
“I didn’t notice your hair messed up until we got to the table.” Shrugging a shoulder, I keep my eyes on the road, turning left once the light turns green. “Besides, if you would’ve left with me out the back, you’d be mortified.”
“Why?” she asks slowly, twisting her body my way.
“I left my wallet in Cam’s office. He found it.”
“Oh God. He knows we had sex in his office!”
I laugh at her reaction, it can’t be helped, but it still earns me a whack in the arm.
“That is so not funny, Brooks,” she grumbles.
I reach a hand out, sliding my palm over her leg. “It’s Cam. He doesn’t get mad.”
“Of course he doesn’t. This is exactly what he wanted, but it’s still embarrassing.” She sighs, sinking further into the seat.
“Us hooking up in his office is what he wanted?”
“The place of us hooking up wasn’t specified.”
“Didn’t know my brother cared so much about my sex life.”
“Don’t get too excited. He wasn’t selling you very well. In fact, he called you an idiot who needed someone smart like me.” Jo sets her hand on top of mine, her smooth touch small against my large one. I peek over when she goes silent, catching her staring hard at our hand holding. “What did you want to talk about, Brooks?”
I take a pause before jumping right in, needing to line up my words correctly before I start talking.
“We made a mistake thinking this could be a one-time thing and then we walk away.”
“Now it’s a two-night stand,” she comments, turning away to watch the highway lights streak past the window.
“I don’t want that, Jo.” I squeeze her leg, waiting for her attention to turn back to me. “Do you? Honestly, do you want this to end for good right here?”
She holds my fierce, dead serious stare as long as I can give before I have to face the roads ahead.
“I can’t do casual with you, Brooks,” she whispers. “I’ve barely been able to handle my feelings since that night. I’m not built tough enough to be with you on whatever night you choose, then watch you pick someone else a few days later. So no, I don’t want this to end, but it can’t go on either.”
“Yes, it can,” I reply with determination. “There will be no one else. I don’t want anyone else.”
“Are you saying…”
“I want to date the hell out of you, Angel,” I repeat the words I once said to her on Thanksgiving. Which wasn’t that long ago, but felt like many, many months. It was happening then, but I wasn’t ready to see the full picture yet. “I can’t promise where this will go, how long it may or may not last, but I want to try, Jo.”
“So you’re still afraid I’ll want to marry you.” She turns my hand over, interlocking our fingers.
I smile, happy she remembers that conversation too. “I don’t plan for futures. Marriage or kids, I just don’t see it happening. But I’ve never met anyone who I wanted exclusively until I met you.”
“Don’t expect sweet, romantic gestures. Got it.” She nods once, but I hear elated humor in her voice.
If she’s willing to have patience, we’ll be better than I already know we can be.
I park in her driveway, locking my car after we’re out and walking to her front door. She slips her key through the lock, turning the bolt, but not opening the door.
“Good night, Brooks,” she says with a sweet, airy look coming across her face.
“You’re not going to invite me in?” I ask, waiting for her to push the door aside.
“We just started dating. I’m not letting you spend the night already.” Her playful tone pushes the limit she knows only she can get away with. Jo closes the space between us, swinging an arm around my neck to bring me down for a long, dizzying kiss good night.
My mouth follows as she pulls back.
“Call you tomorrow,” she whispers above my lingering lips.
Then she’s stepping inside and shutting the door in my face. Again.
TWENTY-TWO
Jo
With all hope, Brooks realizes how lucky he is to be dating a woman who does not care that their first official date is with his parents.
Date a Labelle, and you date the entire family.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get out of this,” Brooks says, glancing over to where I sit in the passenger seat of his car. It’s the tenth time he’s looked this way. It’s the fourth time he’s apologized.
“I told you it’s fine,” I reassure again. “Don’t forget I’ve met your parents. This is an unusual date, but when I’m bribed with pie how can it not be an exceptional one.”
“She’s good,” he murmurs, distantly.
He’s referring to his mom and her wizard ways of convincing us to come to family dinner with everyone rather than spending our first date night as just the two of us.
Brooks had an afternoon game and family dinner afterward. He called his parents to let them know he wouldn’t be able to make it. They guilted him by saying that going off with his buddies was no excuse to cancel on his parents and a family dinner they only asked the boys to get together for once a month.
He says he tried explaining his plans didn’t involve hanging out with his friends, to which I can imagine with graphic perception how it spiraled out of control from there.
We preferred if his mom and dad didn’t know about us dating yet. That’s the single most important task they’ve been attempting on all three sons for eons.
But they found out anyway.
And here we are. On our first date, heading to his parents’ house.
A list of all the pies Betty would be making came as an addendum. So early in the relationship and he already get
s me.
Relationship.
Seems to be such a loaded word when Brooks is new to all of this. I’m a little in the dark about what his expectations are. Or, I guess, what his expectations exclude.
As it goes, this is the one area my brain appears to be laid back with compared to my overthinking of everything else. I’m comfortable with each of us keeping our independence, but sharing some of the space as well.
I’ve gone into this relationship with a good understanding of Brooks, but I fear there will come a time when I’m walking on eggshells. A time when I want more, and he expects us to remain an invariable couple.
My phone rings for the second time since we’ve been in the car. I silence the ringer and send it to voicemail as I did the first call.
Brooks drops his gaze to the cell I’m holding in my lap, and then up at me. “Okay. Who do you keep ignoring? Is it Noah? Is he bothering you still?”
“Noah hasn’t bothered me,” I set him straight. He thinks just because he saw his name pop up once on my phone that means Noah and I are in contact often. “Brooks, I have no reason to speak with any of the Werners. I want to forget about all of them.”
“All?”
“Their parents showed up at my house one night. Ready to pay me to keep quiet about whatever I had going on with their sons.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.” His flat response is directed at the traffic ahead.
“I wish. The whole thing was bizarre. It was after eleven o’clock at night, his mom spoke to me like we were long lost friends, as if we could bond over Mason’s death or something.”
“So she didn’t know about his lies,” he concludes for himself.
“Oh no she knew.” Bitterness sits on my tongue. “She told me to my face that I must have meant nothing to her sweet, fantastic boy.” Brooks shakes his head with disgust. I worry my lip for an extra moment before I tell him what I’ve never told anyone. “I had the final say though. I gave them back the ring Mason proposed with two days before the accident. Turns out he didn’t lie about the family heirloom.”