Page 15 of The Nook for Brooks (Mulligan’s Mill #6)

brOOKS

I wasn’t sure whether it was the rush of adrenaline from the storm, or the reckless intimacy of what Cody and I had just done, or the fact I’d run headlong through a downpour like some overzealous rescue dog… but the excitement was clearly too much for me and before I knew it I was out cold.

Despite the thunder, despite the groan of the mill and the river raging beneath us, I fell sound asleep, safe in his strong, sturdy arms.

When I opened my eyes again, the world had changed. The storm had passed, leaving only silence, broken now and then by the drip of water through the roof and the relieved chirp of a bird outside.

The late afternoon sun poured through the gaps in the shingles, and a pair of doves fluttered in through a broken frame, their wings scattering light as they cooed, happy the storm was over.

Cody was still asleep beside me.

For a moment I didn’t move. I just looked at him.

His face was soft as he slept, his mouth parted slightly, the faint shadow of stubble darker now in the glow of the sun.

His hair was a wild, damp mess, curling in directions gravity had clearly given up on.

His broad, bare chest rose and fell with each steady breath, and I had to fight the urge to lay my hand on it, for fear I might wake him.

He was handsome. Unfairly handsome. The kind of handsome that doesn’t just happen, it pulls at your heart you when you’re least prepared.

And if my eyes weren’t deceiving me… the front of his shorts was tented just enough to suggest he was enjoying a particularly pleasant dream.

I considered waking him. I should have. It was the practical thing to do. But instead, I stole a few selfish minutes to simply… watch. To memorize the lines of his jaw, the shimmer of his oh-so-kissable lips, the twitch of his lashes as his secret dream played out.

Suddenly he stirred in his slumber, ever so slightly, his face flinching a little and his mouth opening, just enough to utter words as he slept—“Brooks… come with me, I don’t… don’t leave me… yes you can… come on, baby.”

I felt a prickle of heat in my cheeks as I blushed.

His muscled frame shifted, as though getting more comfortable, and one arm reached out and found something invisible that he pulled to his chest. Was it me?

He smiled in his sleep.

Then he caught his breath.

And then, with a soft groan and a jerk of his shoulders, Cody’s eyes blinked open.

For a second it was obvious he had no idea where he was. A look of confusion and disorientation overcame him, before he sat up a little, wiped his bleary eyes, and saw my face.

“Oh, hey. Shit, did I fall asleep?”

“We both did,” I told him.

He became aware of his hard-on and gave it a casual nudge with his palm. I wasn’t sure whether he was trying to push it down or move it into a more comfortable position. “The storm’s over, huh?”

“Seems that way.” My voice came out softer than I intended.

Cody stretched himself awake, his limber body cracking with satisfaction as he raised both arms overhead. The movement drew another flush to my cheeks—partly because the late sun picked out every line of muscle across his chest, and partly because, well… his shorts still weren’t hiding much.

He caught me looking, of course. Of course he did.

“See something you like?” he asked, grinning through a yawn.

“I was merely checking to see if you were awake,” I lied, sitting up straighter, self-consciously buttoning up my shirt which was still damp and slack.

“Pretty sure you were checking something else,” he teased, running a hand through his mess of dark hair. “I guess I went into a deep sleep, huh? Deep enough to have some pretty sweet dreams.” His grin softened as his eyes lingered on me. “How was your nap?”

“Considering the circumstances, it was almost… pleasant.”

“Almost?”

I floundered. “I meant—given the storm. Not the company.”

He smirked, clearly savoring my discomfort, then leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You know, you look good like this.”

“Like what?” I demanded, though my heart tripped over itself.

“Messy. Bedraggled. A complete fucking shambles.”

“Thanks for the compliment.” I frowned.

“I’m serious. Look at you. Hair all out of place. Bow tie gone. Like the storm finally knocked the starch out of you.”

I bristled, though weakly. “I am not… starched.”

He laughed, low and warm, and for a moment I forgot the ruined mill, the storm, even the fact we were still damp and disheveled. There was only him, golden in the light, looking at me as if he’d already decided to stay.

“You look sexy, that’s all I’m sayin’. It’s kind of a total turn on.”

“I do? It is?”

He reached for the button on his shorts and smirked. “Need me to prove it?”

I quickly grabbed him by one wrist to stop him. “Actually, it’s getting kind of late. Maybe we should head back before it gets dark. The trail will be slippery and there’s probably branches down everywhere and—”

“And there he is. Sensible Brooks. Like he never even left the room. Well, it’s a good thing I like both sides of you… Mr. Hyde doesn’t exist without Dr. Jekyll, right?”

“I’m not sure I like that analogy.”

He simply laughed, jumped to his feet, reached for my hand, and hoisted me up too. “Come on, handsome. Let’s get you back to your tower before you turn into a pumpkin. I mean, if I really had to, I could totally fuck a pumpkin… but they’re terrible at conversation.”

I glared at him in horror.

He laughed even louder. “What… you never stuck your dick in a—”

“Oh my god, go!” I pointed to the stairs. “We’re leaving! Put a shirt on! And rescue my bow tie on the way down the stairs!”

He grinned over his shoulder. “You should give it a whirl sometime.”

“Stairs! Bow tie! Now!”

As we left the mill, Cody’s laughter still echoed through the rafters.

By the time we got back to town, the sun was setting.

He walked me to door of the Book Nook, and we stopped under the awning, both of us damp, our shoes still muddy, his ridiculous, contagious laugh still ringing in my ears. For a moment neither of us spoke.

“Well,” I said finally, staring much too hard at the brass handle on my own front door. Desperately I wanted to haul it open and pull him inside. Instead, I said, “That was… an experience.”

“The mill? Or the storm sex?”

My ears burned so hot I was sure steam was about to rise off me. “Both. I guess.”

He only grinned. “Yeah. It was a hell of a day.”

I opened my mouth, then shut it again. God how I wanted to invite him upstairs. I wanted to suggest tea, or a shower, or—heaven help me—even a second round. “Would you like to… ah… I mean… perhaps if you—”

He cut me off gently. “Easy, handsome. Let’s not rush.” His voice was warm but steady, and it grounded me instantly. “It’s been a big, dramatic day. We’ve shifted gears, yeah, but that doesn’t mean we need to put the accelerator to the floor.”

I swallowed. He was right, of course. He always seemed to be right in that infuriating, casual way. Although part of me suddenly questioned whether his interest was waning.

“Are you saying, you don’t want to come up?”

“Fuck no. I really, really, really would love nothing more. In fact, I don’t just wanna come up… I wanna come all over you.”

The sound that escaped me was an actual whimper.

“But there’s still a whole lot of our story yet to be told.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. “Kurt Vonnegut said every sentence in a story must do one of two things, reveal character or advance the action.” I paused. “Of course, Edgar Allan Poe said when in doubt, bury someone alive, so I’m not sure we can trust the advice of all storytellers.”

He chuckled. “Let’s reveal character and advance the action. We’ll give the grave-digging a miss, shall we? In the meantime, I should head back to the BnB. Benji and Bastian will be worried I drowned in a puddle or got eaten by a black bear. I better let them know I’m still in one piece.”

“That would be sensible,” I admitted.

He gave me that cheeky smile again, the one that seemed to see straight through every defense I thought I had. “But how about this? Tomorrow morning, I’ll swing by Pascal’s, grab us some brekky, and bring it here. You like croissants?”

“Of course,” I said too quickly, already picturing him turning up with a box of French pastries. “Yes. That… that would be nice.”

“Good,” he said, stepping a little closer.

Before I could overthink anything, he leaned in and kissed me.

It wasn’t the fevered, desperate kiss I’d planted on him in the middle of the storm.

It was something slower, softer, more deliberate.

When he finally pulled back, he whispered, “See you in the morning, Brooks Beresford.”

Then he stepped away, hands in his pockets, striding down the dusky street with that easy swagger of his.

The first thing I did when I got upstairs was draw a bath.

The storm had soaked me through to the marrow. I felt damp, sticky, and muddy. A bubble bath, I decided, would calm my racing heart and restore order. It always did.

The tub filled slowly, the old pipes groaning, the bubbles rising in a froth of white. I placed a folded towel on the rack within easy reach, set a candle on the sill, and chose a romance novel from the stack beside the bed.

I peeled off my clothes and stood naked beside the tub until it was almost full.

I turned off the running water, dipped one toe in, and almost melted on the inside. The temperature was perfect. I stepped in and gave a happy moan as I sank down into the bubbles. The heat seeped into me, untying knots I didn’t realize I had.

I opened the book and tried to read.

But every time my eyes moved across the words, all I saw was Cody.

Cody soaked in the post-storm golden light, chest bare, hair wild.

Cody laughing in the rafters of the mill.

Cody calling me handsome like it was a fact rather than an opinion.

Cody’s stiff cock inside his drenched shorts.

I sighed and set the book carefully aside on the little bookstand by the tub.

Then I lay back. I let the bubbles lap at my chest. And let myself think of him.

My hand slipped lower, sliding under the water, down my quivering stomach, curling around my cock. I stroked slowly at first, fantasizing that it was his hand instead of mine, his rough palm guiding me, his laugh breaking against my mouth as I moaned.

That was when the damn plug in the tub started up.

First it made a gurgle, then a low wet suck, the kind of irritating noise that always threatened to break the spell of a bath.

I frowned, ready to yank it out and cut my pleasure short.

But then… I thought of Cody again.

The plug made another sucking sound, and I imagined Cody’s lips around my dick.

I imagined him sucking my cock with the same hungry enthusiasm he seemed to give everything in life.

I trembled at the thought of him taking me completely in his mouth with that wet, messy sound, obscene and perfect.

I groaned, my fist tightening as I pumped faster. The bubbles sloshed against the sides of the tub. My hips lifted, chasing the rhythm.

“Fuck, Cody,” I whispered, my voice like a prayer to the universe.

I was close, so close, the thought of him swallowing me down, his own groans muffled by my cock, his tongue teasing the head. The gurgle of the drain grew louder, more urgent, and suddenly I lost myself completely.

Cum spurted hot across my belly, disappearing into the bubbles in streaks of white, my body jerking as I gasped for air.

I lay there, heart racing, water lapping gently against the porcelain.

Slowly, I let my hand fall away, the aftershocks easing.

I stared at the ceiling, catching my breath, and smiled despite myself.

Cody Cameron had wormed his way into my every thought, every nerve ending. And now, as I thought about bed, as I yearned for sleep, I knew I’d be taking him with me into my dreams.