Page 27

27

I smile wickedly at her and lay her down onto my bed. I can tell she is wet again and I can’t wait to get inside her. I part her thighs with my knee and decide to taste her again before pinning her wrists down and having my way with her. I can’t help myself. I love the way she tastes and I wanted her as wet as possible before fucking her.

Brooke’s eyes are closed and her perfect lips are parted. She breathes erratically as I run my tongue inside her. She reaches down and clasps my hair. Her head falls back deeper into the pillow and she keeps repeating softly, “Yes. Yes. Yes.” Soon I can tell she is close again, so I stop and pull away.

She raises her head up from the pillow and gives me a cute frustrated look. “What the hell? Why did you stop?”

I just give her a devilish smile.

“Please, Tristan,” she begs.

I am so desperate to get inside her, but I love seeing her like this. Completely wanting me. Yearning for me. Begging me to satisfy her. She’s mine and I am going to remind her of that every chance I get. “Put your arms above your head, Cupcake.”

She does as told. She wants this as much as I do. I pin down her wrists with one of my hands again and lift up one of her legs so it wraps around my hip. Her eyes are filled with lust and love and trust all at once. I am not going to mess up that trust and it’s not something I take for granted.

I’ve barely entered her and she is already gasping. I thrust into her fully and her groans match each of my movements. She is so wet that I have to distract myself by naming off baseball teams in my head so I won’t come right away. I want this to last as long as possible.

Brooke bites her bottom lip to stop herself from screaming and that fucking drives me crazy. I thrust faster and harder. Her pussy clamps around my dick. God I wish we were back home so I could hear my name escape her mouth. To stop myself from screaming her name, I lean down and suck on her breasts. Brooke groans the sexiest groan I’ve ever heard and I think I might orgasm right then and there.

How is this real life? How is this incredible, gorgeous, completely out-of-my-league woman underneath me right now? How did I get this fucking lucky that, by some miracle, she fell in love with me?

“Tristan,” Brooke whimpers and I slow down, wanting this moment to last as long as possible. Then she says something that nearly breaks me: “Let me get on top.”

Before I can even respond, Brooke takes advantage of me being thrown off guard to break free of my grip on her wrists and roll on top of me. Her hair is wild, her dark honey eyes are ravenous, and she is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Every curve on her body is perfect. Her drunkenness has worn off and she looks down at me with such clarity it is a little intimidating. And I rarely get intimidated by anyone. She is destroying pieces of me that I needed to be destroyed, but now I want so desperately to construct walls all around the two of us so that no one can infiltrate what we have. Because what we have is electric. This moment, with this woman on top of me, rocking her body back and forth and pressing her hand against my chest–this is fucking electric and worth protecting.

I grab her hips on both sides and hold her in place. She bucks harder again, so I slap her ass. She gasps and her torso becomes flush with mine. She covers my body with hers as she continues to ride me. I love feeling her body on top of mine. She lifts her torso off mine, holds onto the headboard and begins riding me harder and faster.

“Jesus, Brooke.”

“What Hot Shot? Do you like me on top of you?”

I anchor her hips in place as I lift my hips and ram into her. Her breath hitches.

“Yes, I do, Cupcake,” I murmur. “Are you going to be a good girl and come for me again?”

She comes immediately after I ask her that question. I flip her over so she is on her back again. I want her to take me deeper. I hover over her flushed body. Her chest is heaving and a satisfied smile is plastered on her face.

“Did you like me on my knees for you, licking your clit and pussy, making you come on my face?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, Brooke. I always want you to be fucking satisfied. And don’t you ever forget that you’re mine.”

She looks up at me, then tightens her arms around my neck and kisses my jawline. It is a soft kiss, one that makes my heart twist in the best way possible. I slow my rhythm down and become in sync with her breathing. That’s how I always want to be with her–connected with everything she does. She wraps her legs around me and pulls me closer to her.

“I’m yours, Hot Shot.”

Those words coming out of her mouth do it for me. I collapse onto her and she runs her fingertips along my back. Although it is the sweetest, most intimate thing she could do to me after sex, she is tickling me in the process. I shiver and she laughs. I pull out of her and pull her in close. I plant a kiss on her forehead and trace my fingertips all along her back. I can tell she is dozing off, so I voice the words I am most scared to say to the girl of my dreams:

“I want everything and more with you, Cupcake.”

I listen to the steady rhythm of Brooke’s breathing. Just when I think she’s fallen asleep, a vibration disrupts the steadiness: “Me too, Tristan.”

The sun is beaming brightly through my windows. I squint to block the sunlight. My eyes are already blurry and irritated because I stupidly left in my contacts overnight, which means today I need to wear my glasses. The very glasses that Brooke was referring to last night at dinner.

Speaking of Brooke, I don’t know how I am going to move with this angel sprawled on top of me. Her head is resting right above my heart, her leg hooked over mine and her arm spanning the entirety of my chest. I kiss the top of her head and slide out from under her, careful not to disturb her sleep. She stirs and hugs the pillow. I cover her with the comforter and brush some hair back from her face. A part of me wants to wake her up and continue what we were doing last night, but she needs sleep and I need coffee. She probably does, too, with the lack of sleep and the amount of alcohol she drank last night.

I rummaged through my bag and find my black-framed glasses, a Storm shirt and sweats. Even though it is my own house and I could walk around however I want, I do have guests and I’m sure they don’t want to see me in my underwear. I quietly go downstairs and start a pot of coffee. On the counter is a container of homemade strawberry pop tarts that Brooke made yesterday morning. I stuff half of one in my mouth – it’s so damn good – and go to the fridge for some creamer. I hear a sleepy, “Morning.” I flinch and close the fridge door, and Jen stands there rubbing her eyes.

“Jesus, Jen, you scared the crap out of me.” I nervously chuckle. “What are you doing up so early?” I grab a mug from the cupboard, pour her some coffee and hand it to her. “I don’t know how you take it.”

“Black like my soul.”

We both snort. That couldn’t be further from the truth; Jen is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met.

She comes over to the counter and snatches up the creamer. “Bradley was snoring so loud that he woke me up and then I couldn’t go back to sleep.” When she is done stirring her coffee, she takes a sip and looks up at me. Suddenly her eyes widen.

I shift nervously on my feet. “Whoa, why are you looking at me like that? You have crazy eyes right now.”

“I’ve never seen you wear glasses before. When did you start wearing them?” She is smirking like she knows something I don’t.

I shrug. “I’ve worn glasses all my life. I just usually wear contacts. I had a late night last night and forgot to take them out. So, glasses today.”

“A late night, huh? What were you doing? Talking with that girl you mentioned at dinner?”

We did way more than just talk. We actually were doing everything in our power to stay as quiet as possible. “Something like that.” I pour coffee into my own mug. I’ll have to get Brooke some later.

Jen points at me. “You know who you kind of look like? Clark Kent.”

I chuckle nervously. “What? No I don’t.”

Her eyes got wider and she covered her mouth. “Oh my God! You’re the professional development guy!”

Shit. “Shhhh.”

“This all makes sense. You know, at dinner, I felt like something was going on between you two but then I had to convince myself that that would never happen because you both hate each other’s guts.” Then I can see something else clicks in her brain. “Tristan…Bradley is going to kill you.”

I press my palms into the edge of the counter and hang my head between my shoulders. “I know that.”

“Like legit kill you.”

I look over at her, pleading, “That’s why this needs to be a secret until we are ready to tell him. Please, Jen, don’t say anything. And I know that it is unfair for me to ask since you are about to marry him, but…”

“But, you love her.”

I swallow. “Always have.”

Jen walks over and places her hand on my forearm. She looks up at me earnestly. “I promise I won’t say anything, Tristan. Just be careful. There’s a lot at stake here for you. You’re basically an honorary Beckett. Why risk this?”

“Because she’s worth it.”

Jen nods slowly. “Yeah, I get it. I fell for a Beckett, too.” She pats me on the shoulder then walks over to the couch and grabs the remote. “Don’t mind me. I am just going to carry on with my morning as if we didn’t have this conversation. I also want to binge a couple of episodes of Selling Sunset before everyone else gets up and teases me for it.”

“I wouldn’t dare tease you for it. You are keeping a huge secret for me and I don’t know how to repay you.”

“What secret?” Jen winks at me. “I have no idea what you are talking about, Lawson. Now go ahead and get Brooke some coffee already so you can take it back to her without anyone waking up and asking questions.”

I finish getting coffee for Brooke and make my way back upstairs. Even though I feel a weight lifted off me that more people are fine with us being together, I have a lump in my stomach that will not go away. I need to come clean to Brooke about that damn bet with Hastings. I need to do this before Bradley finds out about us. That way, if Brooke decides she wants to break up with me over that stupid bet –, which I didn’t dream was possible, given I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance with her in the first place – Bradley won’t ever have to know about us at all.

I need to tell her. But I don’t want to ruin this trip. We are heading home tomorrow, so I just want to have a perfect day with Brooke. Hastings isn’t here to threaten telling her. No one else knows about the bet.

I’ll tell her. Soon.

I open the door quietly and sneak back into my bedroom, trying not to spill hot liquid all over myself. As if the coffee gods summoned her awake, Brooke stirs as I approach the bed. It is pretty good coffee.

I sit down next to her and kiss her forehead, “Morning, beautiful. I brought you coffee. Thought you might need it. Especially since you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” I wink.

She smiles and props herself up against the pillows, dragging the sheets with her to cover her perfect body. I want to throw these sheets out the window. She reaches her hands out to grab her mug. “Thank you.” She takes a sip, then studies my face. “You turned back into Clark Kent, huh?”

“I have it on good authority that you kind of like the Clark Kent look.”

“Your sources are correct. I love seeing you in your glasses. It softens all that hard exterior you’ve got going on.” She waves one of her hands around, gesturing toward my body.

“My hard exterior, huh?” I smirk at her.

Brooke’s cheeks turn bright pink and her eyes turn dark as she rakes them over me. I can read what is replaying in her mind from last night because it has been on constant repeat in my own head. She takes another sip and says, “Actually, come to think of it, your exteriors aren’t really that hard. It’s kind of disappointing, actually.” She shrugs. “You’d think for a pro athlete…” She’s baiting me and it’s working. I take her coffee out of her hands, set both our cups on the nightstand, then start tickling her sides.

“Please, Tristan, stop,” she whispers between laughing. Her laugh is fucking everything. I didn’t get too many glimpses of it these past ten years, with her hating the ground I walked on and all. Now I intend to make her laugh every day. This version of Brooke is my favorite version – no bullshit. Completely unfiltered. Completely herself. I get into the bed with her, cover her body with mine and plant kisses all across her face, which makes her laugh more.

“Promise me you will never stop laughing or showing the world your beautiful smile,” I whisper to her. “Never stop being who you are.”

She grabs the back of my head and brings me down to her lips and kisses me hard. White hot desire bolts through my body. I immediately get hard and we are just making out. Jesus. Is this how it is going to be? Brooke kisses me and I can’t control my body like a fucking teenager. Who am I kidding? Brooke can just look at me and I get turned on. I want to continue what we are doing, but I’ve changed my mind from five minutes ago. I need to tell her now, or I won’t have the balls to do it later. She needs to know the truth. That’s the only way we can move forward with this relationship.

Although it kills me, I break our kiss. “Wait, Brooke, I need to tell you something. Well, two things actually.” Brooke’s eyes are dark and goddamn insatiable. Focus, Tristan . “Well, first, Tess and most of the guys on the team aren’t the only ones who know about us.”

The lust in her eyes is replaced with panic. I quickly reassure her, “It’s Jen. Jen was downstairs right now and saw me in these glasses and connected the dots. I swear I didn’t say anything. And she promised she won’t say anything to Bradley.”

Relief settles on her face. “Okay. Well, if I had to choose between her and Bradley to find out, I’d definitely prefer it to be Jen. She is already like a sister to me.”

“I feel the same way. And she was really happy for us.”

“Good.” That spark in Brooke’s eyes returns in full force. Her hand trails down my stomach and grabs my throbbing dick. Jesus Christ I need this woman right now. I attempt to take off my glasses, but Brooke uses her other hand to grasp onto my forearm. She shakes her head. “No, I want you to keep them on.”

“So, you really do have a thing for Clark Kent?”

“Maybe. But I definitely have a thing for you, Hot Shot.” She continues to stroke me, moving her hips up to meet my body. I will never be sick of this ever. If I get to spend mornings with Brooke like this, completely enraptured by every inch of her, every piece of her, I’ll die a happy man. This is definitely not the time to tell her anything that will ruin this moment.

I reach in between our heated bodies and feel how wet she already is for me. I stick a couple fingers inside of her and rub my thumb against her clit. Her back arches up again as I ram my fingers in and out of her. Her breathing staggers. “Tristan, please. I want you inside of me again. Last night wasn’t enough.”

I move her hand off my cock because if she continues what she started, I won’t be able to do what I want with her in about ten seconds. “It will never be enough. I’m going to be selfish as hell with you Brooke. I am going to take what is mine any fucking chance I get.” I push her legs open and ease inside of her. Her fingers dig into my back. I lift her legs up and wrap them around me, bringing us even closer to each other.

I definitely have more than a thing for Brooke Beckett.

I am completely in love with her.