“That’s never going to happen,” I tell her gruffly, because I’d have to be dead first before anyone harmed her, fans or otherwise.
The sleek tendons of her throat work as she swallows. “You shouldn’t have . . . said that about me, Remy. They’re going to think you and I . . . that you and I . . .” She shakes her head, and looks at me, out of breath.
“That you’re mine?” I prod softly.
She blinks for a moment, then laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I ask her.
I shove open the glass shower door, then I wrap a towel around my hips and get rid of my sweatpants. She’s still laughing as I come back to get her, engulfing her with a towel as I scoop her up and carry her to the bed.
I set her down on the center, and I’m not sure if her laughter amuses me or not. “Is the thought of being mine funny?” I tease her.
Reaching under the towel, I tug off her panties and pry off her bra, then I rub the towel over her body and hair with brisk, sure moves.
“Is the idea of being mine funny?” I insist, running the towel over her bare little tits as I watch her. “Is it funny, Brooke?” I repeat, looking deep into her eyes.
“No!” she gasps, her laughter completely gone as she tilts her hips to help me dry her. I dry her legs, and when I reach her knee with the small scar, my movements slow down as I survey it. I’ve never wanted to kiss anything other than lips and pussy, but I’m fighting the urge to kiss her bad knee.
A small hand trembles against my hair, and I hear her whisper, “Have you ever been anyone’s?”
My eyes flick up to hers, her pupils dark as night as she watches me. A consuming jealousy rips through me as I think of someone else having her before me. Feeling a roiling in my chest, I cup her cheek in my palm and look at her. “No. And you?”
She tucks her cheek into my hand and whispers, “I’ve never wanted to be.”
“Neither have I.”
We stare, and the air crackles between us. She needs me. And I fucking need her.
I trace her jaw with my thumb, searching for words to tell her. “Until I saw this lovely girl in Seattle, with big gold eyes, and pink, full lips . . . and I wondered if she could understand me . . .”
Her chest heaves, and I bend closer and scent her, pulling the towel up to cover her body before I break down and take this little body of my dreams, and fuck this woman of my life, and let her shatter me when she realizes who I am, what I am, and what is completely fucked-up about me.
My voice roughens at the thought. “I want to say so many things, Brooke, and I just can’t find the words to tell them to you.”
Resting my forehead on hers, I inhale deeply as I run my nose along the length of hers.
“You tie me up in knots.” My lips find hers for a moment, briefly kissing before I withdraw and look into her eyes. “I want to play you a thousand different songs so you get a clue of what . . . I feel inside me. . . .”
A shiver runs through her as I caress my index finger along the bow of her top lip, then her bottom one. She whimpers softly, and I hold her face between my hands and set my mouth on hers, pulling her tongue into my mouth so I can suck her.
She moans and sinks her nails into my shoulders, gasping, “Why won’t you take me, Remington?”
Groaning at that, I pull her closer to me. “Because I want you too much.”
Pushing my tongue harder against hers, I lean over her and feel her body pressing into mine, her tits, her abs, her legs tangling between my thighs.
She gasps when I pull her closer and keep devouring her mouth.
“But I want you so much, and I’m protected,” she pleads to me. “I know you’re clean. You get tested all the time and I . . .”
The tips of her nipples brush against my ribs, and she shudders and tilts her hips upward, silently begging me to slide in there and take what I want. What I fucking crave. Fuck me.
“I want you in my bed again. I want to kiss you, hold you,” I tell her roughly.
She grips my shoulders harder and whispers against my lips, “I can’t do this anymore, please just make love with me. . . .”
I silence her with my mouth and fuck my tongue into her as I shift my frame, which makes my cock hit her hip bone . . . and my thigh feels her pussy.
She’s wet.
Wet as fuck.
I’m so hot for her, I can’t stop nibbling her lips, biting softly, fisting my hands in her wet hair as she rakes her hands down my arms and rubs herself against my thigh. She whimpers softly, and my gut coils with need as she rocks her hips against me and kisses me back.
Two . . . three rocks . . . and she starts shuddering uncontrollably against me.
I stop kissing her for a moment—then I realize what’s happening. My cock starts dripping semen as I feel her come, and I spread my hand on her back and push up my leg, forcing her to ride me harder, making sure her clit gets a nice little rub as I take her mouth with mine and force her to take my tongue as she comes for me.
The noises she makes . . . the way her body goes slack against mine . . .
My chest feels heavy with tenderness as I brush her hair back and look down at her flushed face and glazed eyes. “Did that feel even half as good as it looked?” I ask, trailing my finger along her cheek.
She pulls the towel around her and angrily avoids looking at me. “I assure you that’s not happening again,” she whispers.
God, I love her. I love her sass and her spunk, and I love how she gets shy with me. Amused by her shyness when she just came for me in a way no other woman has ever come before, I bend closer to kiss her ear, my voice husky. “I’m going to make sure that it does.”
“Don’t count on it. If I wanted to have an orgasm all alone, I could have taken care of myself without giving anyone a show.” She keeps the towel to her chest as she sits up and asks, “Can I borrow a damn shirt?”
She’s so cute angry, I smile as I head over to the closet and grab one of my usual black T’s.