“Brooke,” he whispers. The butterflies alight in my belly, and I slowly open my eyes and turn towards him. My heart aches at the look on his face. Concern and worry crease the corners of his eyelids and he looks older, worn and stressed.
“Don’t you ever get sick of looking after me?” I ask him, watching his gaze carefully for any sign of how he truly feels.
“If looking after you means having you in my life, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of it.” I see nothing but sincerity.
“I don’t belong here, Sax. This is all some kind of joke to everyone. How long have we been the laughing stock of the industry?” I say dejectedly.
“We are not a laughing stock,” he growls. “Trust me, they aren’t laughing every month when our figures are being released.”
“Yeah that’s you though. I am a laughing stock. A joke. What’s the point? You should have it.”
“Have what, Brooke?”
“Argo, you should have Argo.”
“What’s brought this on? Is it because of Dennis? He’s a fucking idiot, Brooke. The old man doesn’t know shit.”
“It’s not just Dennis, it’s everyone in that room, every dinner I attended, every meeting I sat in on. You should have Argo.”
Saxon’s eyes are wide, fear lining his face. “I don’t want it if you’re not there, Brooke.”
“I don’t belong there, Sax. I don’t know where I belong.” I can hear the defeat in my voice and hate that I’m not stronger.
His eyes are narrowed and intense, searching my face. He looks up and glances around before grabbing my hand and walking me away from the railing. We head towards the end of the balcony where he continues walking, pulling me down the side of the building.
It’s even darker down here, and I assume he wants some privacy. We’re strict about keeping our business functions professional and don’t do so much as hug or hold hands.
Saxon pushes me against the wall and steps right into me, our bodies flush, his face only inches from my own. My heart races and I panic, looking around frantic. I’m relieved to see no one could stumble across us down here unless they came looking.
He grabs my chin and pulls my face to his. “How can you not see it?”
“Not see what?” I whisper, unable to look away from his intense gaze.
“You do belong here. Right here, by my side. That’s where you belong, Brooke.” He runs his knuckles down my cheek before leaning in and lightly kissing me. Releasing the deep breath I didn’t realise I was holding, Saxon kisses me again, this time not breaking contact.
His kiss is sweet, gentle, and soothing. He’s trying to comfort me, and it’s working. I return his sweet kiss and wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close like I need him to breathe. And maybe I do.
Saxon returns my desperation as he wraps his arms around my back, pulling me tightly to him as his kiss goes from gentle to demanding. He’s devouring me, and I’m sure he can read my mind and knows how much I need it.
His hand moves from my back to my ribs sitting just under my breast. I push my chest into his, looking for contact. He laughs at me as he slides his hand down my torso, over my hip and down the side of my thigh. It amazes me what his touch can do to me. Whether it’s fast and hard or gentle and slow, he always knows what I need.
He sneaks his hand into the slit of my dress and slowly runs his fingers up my thigh, lifting the dress with it. Goose bumps break out over my skin and a shiver rolls through me as he tickles my skin with his fingers running up the back of my thigh and to my ass.
Lifting my leg slightly to rub myself against him, Saxon quickly squeezes my ass before gripping my thigh and lifting my leg to wrap around his hip. He pushes his hips into me, grinding his hard cock right where I need him. I moan loudly at the sudden contact, loving the effect I have on him. I roll my hips against his. He groans as he pulls away from our kiss and snuggles his face into my neck.
“Shhhhh,” I whisper.
“You’re one to talk.” He laughs.
I laugh at him before pulling his face back towards mine, reigniting our earlier kiss. My tongue searches his mouth wildly before his reaches out to meet it. They tangle and caress as Saxon’s other hand moves down between us, brushing over my centre. I gasp at the contact, and he smiles against my lips.
He begins running his fingers lightly over the silk panties, along my folds, and my hips gyrate towards him trying to create some friction. He stills our kiss, laughing against my mouth, and I glare at him as I pull back. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asks with a mischievous grin.
“Stop teasing me.” Saxon laughs as he continues to torture my body.