“No, I need to pee!” she cries, flinging the other pillow at me, then she hurries to the bathroom and closes the door.
“Gah. Come the fuck here,” I growl, knocking on the door. She’s started brushing her teeth, from the sounds of it. Finally, the water stops and I hear her unlock the door. I open it and find her toweling off her hands. I go to her, scoop her up, and she nuzzles my neck as I carry her to the bed.
She sighs. Because she knows I want her. She’s being playful, making me chase.
“What am I going to do with you?” she groans tenderly, her fingers linked on my nape. She’s smiling up at me like I’m some long-lost prince. And what she doesn’t know is that this long-lost prince is going to fuck her into oblivion.
I fling her to the bed, and she squeals delightedly. I drop down on her and ram her legs apart.
I kiss one naked thigh first, then the other, then I kiss her pussy. “This is mine.” I lick it.
Her head falls back and she moans as my thumb steals between the swollen sex lips and dips inside her. My mouth waters and I growl softly as I use my thumb to enter her while I rub my tongue across her clit.
She parts her thighs and releases a mew that drives the hunter in me wild with the need to conquer. She starts thrashing and I grab her and hold her still. “Give me what I want, Brooke.”
Tossing her head side to side in pleasure, she whimpers and bites her lips and pumps her hips up to my face. “I’m all yours.”
“That’s right.” I tenderly urge her thighs apart as I come to my knees. “That’s right. Now open up. Let me in.” She does, and I sink between her legs, grip her hips, and my body tightens as I enter. “Yeah,” I say when she moans, tossing her head back. “Who do you love?” I drop my voice, undone by her, and then crush her mouth when she can’t answer me. “Who do you love?”
She moans and buries her lips in my neck, biting me. She murmurs something into my skin, clawing my back.
I moan back and hiss out, “Say my name, Brooke.”
“Remington.” She kisses my ear and tugs on my earlobe with her lips, breathing in my ear, excited. She’s gasping my name in lust, but I pretend she’s answering my question.
She’s wet and hot, and she loves me, and she’s all I’ve ever wanted. Stronger than I imagined, more female than I ever imagined. Funny and nurturing, vulnerable and sassy.
I love her so much my chest hurts as I watch her arch her spine and take me inside. I groan and duck my head as she clutches me to her. I clutch her back and try to slow down, and she rubs my skin with her fingers. She knows I need it and she gives it up to me with no protest. When she’s tired, asleep. When she’s busy, when she’s sweaty, when she’s hungry. She gives it up to me whenever I want, whenever I ask for it, because I’m speedy. Because I’m me. Because I know, deep in my gut, where it sometimes hurts to look at her, Brooke Dumas loves me.
♥ ♥ ♥
I’VE BEEN AWAKE for eighteen hours and twenty-eight minutes. My heart is pounding thirty-nine beats a minute. Brooke has been in my arms for exactly nine hours and twenty-eight, now twenty-nine, minutes. I’m jacked up and I can’t sleep.
She’s cuddled like a little kitten against me; I want to pet and lick from the top of her head to the soles of her little feet.
I’ve cataloged the room in my head. I know where everything is. I could run in it in the darkness without bumping into anything. I could carry her in my arms without danger. Everything’s in my head—perfectly visualized.
But nothing as perfectly as her face.
Her lips are parted and they shudder on each breath. Shaped like a heart, the bottom one just as juicy as the top. Her cheekbones are high and her eyelashes rest over them, soft-tipped crescents.
I just want to lie here in this bed in this darkened hotel room and drink her in all over again until I’m drunk and high on her.
I am a fucking pendulum.
Any disturbance to my balance, and I swing.
The doctors taught me this.
Once I swing high, nothing on earth will stop me from crashing back down. I fall by gravity. Natural urge of the body to restore balance.
But that’s the thing. A pendulum always seeks its balance.
She’s my balance. I need her more than air.
Ducking my head to her neck, I breathe her in and growl.
♥ ♥ ♥
AND IT’S A fucking crappy week.
I don’t like the way Brooke looks at Pete and Riley with a smile and talks to them. We’re flying to New York and I can’t help thinking how much I don’t fucking like that Coach treats me like I’m a goddamn pussy and need to fucking rest, and that Diane is giving me the same fucking food, over and over. But Brooke. I’m onto Pete and Riley, by god, I am. If they so much as give one look at her—they are done with.