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Sure, it was risky. To let myself feel for him, to start to fall for him all over again.
But if there was something that belonged at the very top of my bucket list, experiencing love was it.
I wasn’t going to let myself be afraid.
I was just going to… embrace it. Experience it. For however long I got to have it.
“What time do you get up on your days off?” he asked as he kissed up my belly, between my breasts, then pressed into my neck.
“Oh, um… no later than nine.”
“So… ten? I’ll swing by to grab you?”
“On the bike?” I asked, excitement tingling through me.
“If you want,” he said, smiling at my enthusiasm.
“Can I try to drive it?” I asked.
To that, he shook his head. “Maybe,” he said.
“I can work with maybe,” I decided. “I can be very persuasive,” I added, thinking of all the fun, dirty, wicked little ways I could now get him to give me exactly what I wanted.
“Baby, don’t think there’s much you’d want that I wouldn’t give you,” he said, pressing his lips into mine. Hard, but quick, before he was moving away from me, getting to his feet, and gathering our plates.
“I can do—“ I started, getting silenced by one look from him over his shoulder. “Or I can stay here. All naked and lazy,” I added.
“Yeah,” he said, gaze moving over me again. “Think I like that better,” he said, then disappeared to not only put the plates in the kitchen, but judging by how long the water ran, actually washing them.
When he came back out of the kitchen, he had the trash bag in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other.
“Hydrate,” he demanded, placing it down on the coffee table next to me.
“Okay,” I agreed, unfolding from the couch, and moving to stand.
“What are you doing?” he asked as I fell into step behind him.
“I have to lock up behind you,” I told him as he wrenched open the door, and I stepped into the slides I kept next to it.
“You’re going down the stairs like that?” he asked, looking bemused and scandalized in equal turns.
“Yep. Gotta lock that door too,” I agreed, giving him a saucy smile.
“Fuck,” he said, shaking his head at me, then turning to go down the stairs. “Stand behind the door,” he demanded as we got to it.
“Afraid someone is going to see me?” I asked.
“All this,” he said, running his fingers over my bare breast, then down my ribs, over my hip, and sinking into my ass, “is just for my eyes.”
“And hands,” I said as his fingers tightened.
“Mmhmm,” he agreed, leaning in to press his lips to mine.
“Lips too,” I added. “And…” I started, hand drifting down his stomach. But just as it pressed over his lap, his hand left my ass, grabbed my wrist, and pulled it away.
“I need some energy to drive home with,” he told me, eyes bright.
“I have room in my bed,” I offered.
There was regret in his eyes then.
“I have to get back to the club,” he said. “But I’ll be here tomorrow,” he assured me, pressing a sweet kiss to my forehead that gave me all the flutters.
“Bring coffee,” I demanded.
“I can do that.”
“I like—“
“I remember how you take it, Cal,” he said, shaking his head at me like it was absurd to assume otherwise.
With that, he unlocked the door, and carefully slipped out so that no one could see me.
When I didn’t immediately move to lock the door, he whipped it back open, his gaze moving over me. “Lock that shit up,” he said, his gaze doing one more sweep of me before disappearing.
My heart felt light enough to float away as I slid the locks, made my way back upstairs, and locked myself in there as well.
It was the first time in a long time that I fell into bed with that bottomless, gaping hole inside filled all the way back up.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Brooks
“Did you just… sniff me?” I grumbled at Sully who sidled up beside me as I came into the clubhouse, leaning in, and taking a deep breath.
“That’s an interesting perfume you’re wearing. Vanilla and roses, if I’m not mistaken,” he said, that playboy smile tugging at his lips. “Where have I smelled that before…” he wondered, pursing his lips and tapping his chin.
“Sully,” I said, his name a warning.
“It’s very unique, don’t you think? Not a lot of women walk around smelling like rosy ice cream. You know, I think I smelled that all over me when I gave a certain lady a piggyback—“
“Stop,” I snapped, but there wasn’t much of a bite to it.
“I’m happy for you, man,” he said, slapping me hard enough on the back to make me lean forward a bit. Luckily, I had sure enough footing not to fucking stumble forward. “She was shooting you moon eyes that night by the pool. Green lights all around. But you kept slamming on the brakes anyway.”
