Chasing Forever, page 21
My gaze falls down his chest. “Seriously, Brooks, you should’ve stripped for me years ago, and we could’ve been here so much sooner.” I laugh until his calloused fingers drag lightly along my skin.
“Arms up.” His voice is as rough as dried out leather.
I do as he instructs, and he tugs my shirt over my head slowly, gaze dragging over every inch of skin he bares. I thought I’d feel self-conscious, vulnerable, exposed, but I don’t. Because this is Brooks. His gaze isn’t just admiring—it’s reverent. He stares at me as though I’m something he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch.
“Shit. Don’t think I’m weak, but it’s taking every ounce of willpower not to strip you in world record time.”
“You should.” My breathing is labored.
“I want to take my time.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m yours for however many times you want me tonight.”
He pushes his hand through his hair with a pained expression on his face. “Fuck, Lottie, don’t say things like that.”
My hand slips down between us, and I run it over the large bulge in his track pants. “I like these pants. No buttons or pesky zippers to get in the way.” I run my finger under the waistband, back and forth.
He sucks in a breath, and his dick presses harder into my stomach. He backs me up toward the mattress, then we’re lying side by side, flushed with laughter. The next moment, his mouth is on mine. There’s purpose to this kiss. No hesitation. No question. He knows I’m all in.
And yet, my heart pounds as if I’m standing on a ledge of a cliff.
It’s not a one-night mistake. There’s nothing casual about it. We’ve put the entirety of ourselves out there now, no more secrets.
“You sure you want to do this?” he murmurs.
I nod, throat tight. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”
His forehead rests against mine as he exhales. “God, why am I nervous?”
“Hey, if it’s bad, there’s always sex books and stuff to brush up on your skills, right?”
He looks at me then, eyes dark and amused, and just like that, the tension lightens. He gets me. He always has.
“Baby,” he growls, leaning in close, “I promise we don’t need any sex books for me to get you to pop off.”
And just like that, my breath catches.
He unclasps my bra, and I slide my arms out, taking it off and tossing it to the floor. Again, his eyes speak the words he doesn’t, and I’ve never felt more cherished or wanted in my life.
A pained groan leaves his lips. “You’re trying to kill me.”
“You’re the one with your pants still on,” I tease, hooking a finger into his waistband.
“I’m trying to savor this,” he murmurs, kissing a line down my throat. “You think I want to hurry? I’ve waited too long to have you. I plan on memorizing every single inch.”
“Is there a test I don’t know about?” I suck in a breath, threading my fingers through his hair.
“My own personal one. How many times can I make you scream my name for starters.” He lowers his head, lips brushing my jaw, then my neck.
“Show me, Sheriff. Hands-on demonstration only. I don’t hand out participation trophies.”
He chuckles into my neck. “Oh, I’m starting here.”
And then he moves lower, dragging my jeans down my legs along with my panties, his hands firm but gentle. I can feel the weight of this moment—the care in it, the gravity. My body hums with an ache I’ve never experienced before.
He kneels between my legs, running a hand along my inner thigh. “You should come with a warning label.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’ll play your game. What would it say?”
“High risk of addiction. No known cure.”
I cover my face with my hands, laughing. “Oh my god, you and your lines. Where did you hear that one?”
He lowers his chest to the mattress, spreading my thighs wider with his hand, and rests his chin on my stomach, staring up at me. “Come on, it was a good one.”
His mouth finds me without warning, and I cry out, my fingers instantly gripping the sheets. His tongue strokes through my folds with expert precision. He finds my clit with terrifying accuracy, circling and sucking until my hips lift off the mattress.
He moans against me, and the low and hungry sound nearly tips me over.
“You taste like heaven,” he murmurs, lips wet. “I might never be done down here.”
As if I’m not already clenching to make this last as long as possible, his fingers slide inside me, curling just the right amount, and stars fill my vision. Everything inside me coils tight, tension rising so fast I can’t catch up. My thighs shake, my breath stutters, and I come on a cry from somewhere deeper than my throat.
He kisses his way up my body, slow and unhurried, along my stomach, through the valley of my breasts until his mouth meets mine, and I taste myself on his tongue. I never used to be comfortable with this, but with him, it doesn’t bother me. If anything, I’m turned on.
“Still think I need a sex book?” he whispers, brushing my sweaty hair off my forehead.
“Cocky, much?”
“Do you know me at all?”
I laugh, breathless. “What else you got, Sheriff?”
He stretches past me and reaches into his nightstand drawer, returning with a condom.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s my turn.” I sit up and inch closer to him.
“So is it my turn to grade you on performance?” He quirks his eyebrow.
I’ve never laughed this much during sex. Never had it be playful. I’ve clearly been missing out.
“I need you to stand.”
He scoots back off the bed. I climb off the bed and saunter over to him. His eyes follow my every step.
I sink to my knees, the heat between us pulsing as fast as my heartbeat. As confident as I look, I’m no expert at this. Brooks watches me with such interest that I grow nervous.
“I—” His voice catches when I tug down the waistband of his track pants, dragging them slowly off with deliberate intent. “Lottie…”
I glance up at him as his cock springs free. It’s hard, flushed, and heavy with want. “You said you wanted to memorize me,” I murmur, wrapping one hand around the base. “It’s time I get to do the same.”
He sucks in a sharp breath when I lick a slow path up the length of him. His thighs tremble before a groan erupts from his throat. When I swirl my tongue around the head, tasting the salt of him, he curses.
“Jesus,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me.”
I hum around him and take more of him into my mouth, working him slowly, deliberately, studying his reactions with every pass of my lips and flick of my tongue. His eyes never leave me.
“Lottie…” His voice breaks. Brooks slides his hand into my hair, not forcing anything. “Your mouth—fuck, that feels so good.”
I moan around him, the sound vibrating through his body, and his hips jerk forward. I hollow my cheeks and suck harder, letting him slide deeper back. He grips my hair a little tighter. He’s so close already.
“You’re too good, baby. You’re too—” He groans.
I pull back slowly, pumping him with one hand. “What’s my grade?”
“A fucking plus, now get off your knees because I’m not coming in your mouth our first time together.”
I laugh and stand, my mouth finding his.
He swivels me around, pushing me lightly, and I fall to the mattress. I crawl up as he grabs the condom and rolls it on, watching me the whole time. My chest flutters but not from nerves. More like this is happening.
He’s mine.
“Look at me,” he says, positioning himself at my entrance. “I want to see your face as I slide inside you.”
I keep my eyes locked on his as he pushes in slow and deep. Filling me in a way that has my entire body clenching around him.
I gasp.
He curses.
“Jesus, you feel—fuck—you’re perfect.”
He’s big, and it’s the kind of stretch I’m not used to, but my body hums with satisfaction. I’ve never felt fuller. So claimed. And I want to tell him I was a fool. It should’ve always been him.
“You feel better than I imagined,” I whisper.
“You’ve imagined me?”
“Only every night since Vegas.”
He groans and moves. His thrusts are long and dragging. I gasp each time, my fingernails clawing at his back the deeper he goes.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he says. “So wet for me. You’re making me lose my goddamn mind.”
He’s everywhere. In every part of me. And it’s not just the sex, it’s the emotion braided through our movements. The years of longing looks, of restraint, of hoping and wishing.
“I can’t believe we waited this long,” I manage to say, breath hitching.
“I’d wait a lifetime if this is what I get.” His mouth brushes mine. “But now that I have you? I’m never going back.”
Our rhythm builds, sharp and deep. I lift my hips to meet him, our bodies moving together in perfect sync. My fingertips graze up his spine.
His hands slide up my arms, placing them above my head, interlocking our fingers. “I want to see you come,” he pants. “I want to feel you fall apart around me.”
“I’m almost there,” I whisper, clenching our hands and tightening my thighs around him.
“Fuck, Lottie.”
He thrusts harder, faster, and the pressure explodes. My orgasm crashes through me like a tsunami. I cry out, my body clenching. Brooks follows with a groan, his hips stuttering as he loses all control.
We collapse in a tangle of limbs, our bodies slick and exhausted. He buries his face in my neck, and I wrap my arms around him.
No one has ever made me feel this cared for. This safe. This whole.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Brooks
Lottie’s draped across my chest, her body warm and soft, legs tangled with mine under the covers. It hardly feels real that I finally get to hold her skin to skin with nothing between us, relaxed and sated.
We don’t speak. I just run my fingers through her hair and try to commit this moment to memory. I fear I’ll wake up and find this was all a dream. I’ve never felt this quiet in my head before. My mind used to be racing for ways to win her, to get her to notice me. And now, I can finally exhale.
Lottie shifts, her lips brushing my chest. “How come you didn’t say anything? You could have told me you knew.”
I stiffen for a moment, but she kisses my chest again. “I wanted you to tell me when you trusted me. It was your business, and I already felt guilty about overhearing it in the first place. Plus, it didn’t make a difference, like I said.”
“I should’ve told you this a long time ago…” She scoots up in the bed, and we turn to face one another. “I’ve liked you for a while, you know.”
I smile and run my fingers along her arm. “How long?”
“I’m not sure if I can point to the exact time, but ever since you’ve been coming in for your coffees probably.”
There’s no way for me to keep my chuckle at bay. “You always act like I annoy you.”
“How else am I supposed to act? Plus, I was scared. Scared of what people would think. Scared of people thinking I was hopping brothers. Scared I’d get hurt again. Scared that I wouldn’t be enough.”
“Fuck, Lottie, you’ve always been enough. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” I inch forward and kiss her. She lets me, and I love how easy all this is between us now. How right she feels in my bed, my home, my life.
“Thank you… for… waiting and not judging.”
I roll her over and slide on top of her. “I’m not gonna lie, you put up one helluva fight. You’re as stubborn as the day is long, but you were worth every therapy session you caused me.” I bend and kiss her neck.
“Funny.”
“I thought so.”
“God, you feel so good. I don’t ever want to leave this bed,” she says.
“We don’t have to.”
“Eventually we do.”
“Not really. We can quit our jobs and live off the land.”
“And die of hunger?”
I dramatically lift my body and look between our bodies, down toward her mound. “I’m not gonna starve.”
She slaps my chest and laughs, tilting her head back just enough to look up at me. Her hair is a mess, her lips are swollen, and she’s never looked more beautiful. Because she’s mine. And I’m hers.
I lean down to kiss her, slow and sweet, and she hums against my mouth. But her legs shift open as if she wants more.
My stomach growls. Too loudly to be ignored.
She pulls back with a snort. “It doesn’t sound like I satisfied you.”
“So, I guess we’ll need to buy groceries.” I shrug.
She bites her bottom lip, grinning. “I figured. Why don’t I go down and make that apology dinner I promised you?”
“Can I help?”
She slides out from under me and sits up, revealing bare skin that makes my mouth go dry. “Stare all you want. I’m all yours.” Her hand touches my cheek, and she kisses me too damn quickly.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page there.”
She grabs a pillow and throws it at me. I catch it easily, toss it aside, and grab her around the waist, pulling her back down on top of me.
“You’re insatiable,” she says, curling into me again.
“So are you,” I murmur into her hair. “Don’t try to pretend like you don’t want me to slide into you again.”
She presses a kiss to my chest and sighs. “We need to refuel at least. May I borrow a shirt?”
I nod toward my dresser. “Top drawer.”
Lottie slips out of bed, not bothering to cover herself, and my eyes track her. She saunters as though she knows I’m watching. She opens the drawer, rummages for a second, and pulls out a plain gray T-shirt with Sheriff on it. It hangs off one shoulder, barely covers her ass, and I don’t even bother to pretend I’m not ogling her.
“You look good in my T-shirt.” My voice is laced with pure male satisfaction.
“You say that like you’re going to try to take it off me again in twenty minutes.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t bend down to get anything from the fridge.”
She shakes her head and heads for the stairs. I scramble after her, still shirtless, grabbing my sweatpants off the floor.
The house is quiet except for Mack’s tail thumping lazily against the floor as he watches us from the living room rug. He probably came down here when we were all over one another.
Lottie opens the fridge and surveys the contents. “I was doing chicken parm, but that seems like a lot of work right now. How about a quick skillet?” She pulls out eggs and sets them on the counter. “You know, other than the stuff I brought, you have nothing here.”
I shrug. “I’m never home.”
“That might be changing soon.”
“I’m not gonna argue with that.”
She throws me a look over her shoulder that makes my chest ache. I love her so fucking much.
“All right, Sheriff. Grab a skillet, and I’ll beat the eggs.”
She searches cabinets for bowls and plates, and I guide her, resting one hand on her hip, reaching for the items she’s not tall enough to grasp. We kiss one another as we pass. Hands grazing, fingers brushing. A constant tease between the two of us.
And then it hits me.
This is it.
This is what I’ve wanted.
Not just the sex—not just the high of having her scream my name in my bed—but the everyday stuff. The kitchen dance between us. The teasing. The fact that she wears my T-shirt as if it’s hers.
I lean against the counter, content to watch her for a second.
“What are you thinking about?” She side-eyes me as she pours the eggs into the skillet.
“You know.”
She sets down the bowl and saunters over, winding her arms around my waist. “Tell me.”
I wrap my arms around her, lifting the hem of the T-shirt and grabbing her ass. “I could get used to this.”
She goes still for half a second, then looks up at me. “Me too.”
It’s been a long damn road to get here, but we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be—and I don’t want to waste another second.
I kiss her again. Slow and familiar, but it’s not nearly enough. I swivel us around and prop her up on the counter. She opens her legs for me, pulling me closer, and I kiss her deeper.
I can’t hold myself back. Will I ever be able to?
My tongue finds hers. My hands roam her curves. My body’s screaming for everything she’s already given me.
She moans into my mouth as my hips press against her core. Her fingers weave through my hair, tugging, guiding, pulling me closer. I kiss her deeper and harder, my mouth claiming hers, my tongue brushing against hers again and again.
Lottie wraps her legs around my waist, locking me to her. One hand drags down my back, her heels pushing at the waistband of my pants, and I groan. Fuck, she’s not playing fair.
“Brooks,” she whispers between kisses, her lips brushing mine.
“What, baby?”
She breathes hard, her forehead pressed to mine. “You can’t kiss me like that and expect me to focus on dinner.”
I grin, my mouth dropping to her jaw, then her neck, her collarbone, the place just beneath her ear that I discovered makes her shiver. “Good. I wasn’t hungry for food anyway.”
“Me either anymore.” Her voice is all heat, no protest.
I turn off the burner with my lips still seared to hers. Then I slide my hands up her thighs, under my shirt that’s now hers, and she arches, tucking me tighter between her legs.
“I expect you to finish what you start,” she whispers.
My hands roam, pressing my length into her, grinding against her until she’s soaked and squirming. I want to go slow, but I want to devour her at the same time. One thing’s for certain—I never want to leave this house.
Twenty minutes of moaning, grinding, and begging later, and we try making dinner once more.
