“Hey Google,” I start, lifting my phone up to my lips. “How do you make cookies?”
“Cookies!” Bella says, her head whipping away from the TV and over to me. She pushes herself off the couch and bounces over to stand in front of me, her long dark hair and pale brown eyes making her look like a miniature Brooke. Staring at her like that makes me a little curious about what it would be like to have kids with somebody, make my own mini me. Or maybe I'm specifically fantasizing about what it would be like to make mini Brookes. Oh yeah. I haven't forgotten the feel of her body beneath me, writhing and moaning, those small noises in her throat, those frantic breaths like the beating of a bird's wing.
Hmm.
Maybe I do sort of give a crap if she fucks me again. Because I really want to fuck her. I need to make this happen.
“I'm on my way out,” Brooke says, appearing at the bottom of the stairs in a long black trench coat à la an old western movie or something. I smile at her total lack of style—and then start getting real, real curious about what's under that thing. “Do you need anything before I go?” she asks, her pale eyes like hazelnuts. Good enough to eat. I smile. I think I actually kind of miss the big thick black hipster glasses.
“We're making cookies!” Bella says, drawing those candy twins my way. Mike and Ike bounce and scream and hang off my pant legs.
Brooke raises an eyebrow at me. God I want to pierce her so bad. I grin and try not to let myself get caught up in the pun.
“Do you actually know how to bake?” I lift my phone and wiggle it at her.
“I got Google, like I said. How hard can it be?”
“Oookay,” she says, making me ten times as sure that I've gotta do this. I have to prove this chick wrong. “I better get going.”
“One second,” I say, peeling a twin off my leg and depositing him on the couch. I seriously have no idea which one of my nephews is Mike and which one's Ike. “Go watch TV for, like, five more minutes while I get everything set up.”
The kids scurry away like ants as I gesture for Brooke to follow me outside for a minute, scooting heaps of chihuahuas away with my foot as I step onto the deck.
“What's up?” Brooke asks as I move over to the right side of the deck, out of view of the children. Before she can get all logistical up in that crazy head of hers, I grab her jacket by the front and gently push her back into the wall, drawing a sharp gasp from those pretty lips. Her makeup's perfect, but I figure better for me than for those assholes at the club.
I lean in and kiss her hard, slipping my tongue into her mouth on the tail end of another gasp. The way her breath rushes around my mouth makes it hard to concentrate as my hands drop and undo a few of the top buttons on the coat. My fingers slip inside and find a lacy teddy and a slim waist, a warm and willing softness that leans into me with little prompting.
Oh yeah.
This chick still wants me. With her pressed up against me like this, I feel like I'll do anything to get her. Just one more night would be fucking killer.
Brooke groans against my lips, her hands dropping to the waistband of my jeans and curling around it, nails scraping my skin as she tugs me closer.
“Cha-cha-ching, Smarty-Pants,” I whisper as I pull back an inch. “If you want, I can be naked and waiting for you when you get home.”
She doesn't answer me as rain starts to fall, pattering against the wood and the grass and the majestic trees dancing above our heads. If there weren't a million kids in the house, I would lift her up and fuck her right here, right against the green siding of this shitty house. I'd make a million miniature Brookes with her right now if she wanted.
Uh. Where the fuck did that thought come from?
Ew. No. No way. No kids. Not for me. Sorry. I don't care how cute the girl is.
I take a sudden step back, pretending it's because I can hear screaming from inside. In reality, I've just freaked myself the hell out.
Brooke looks up at me with those giant doe eyes that she says she doesn't have, breath panting, her hot pink lipstick smeared across her chin. She clutches her jacket tight in front of her and then starts frantically buttoning it up.
I know I should keep laying it on, encourage her to experiment with me. After all, one night of sex in her whole life? At age twenty-two? She has got to have some built up frustration brewing in that sexy body of hers.
But I can't. Honestly, I think I just scared the crap out of myself. Damn. A few days with these kids and my bio clock is a-tick-tick-tickin'.
Brooke doesn't say anything, just squeezes her hands into fists, fingers digging into the shimmery fabric of her trench as she closes her eyes and sucks in several deep breaths. When she opens them again, she takes a step forward and then smooths her hands over the slick texture of her hair, fixing her bouncy ponytail before she wets her lips to speak.