She nods, her hands moving around my waist as she stares at my chest. “You know this means I’ll be tied up all weekend except for the dinner. We won’t really see each other.”
I dismiss her underlying apology. “No worries. I have a few classes to teach. I’ll just be across the street for distractions and words of encouragement, if needed.”
“Yeah.” Her voice comes out quiet and swift. She tugs at my shorts, her nails scrapping across my skin. “Mason?”
“Mm?”
She looks up. I recognize the shift in her eyes. Desire.
With her small, very capable hands, she glides up my arms, slowly, squeezing my muscles and wrapping her grip around my neck. Our bodies press together.
She doesn’t mind my appearance?
“You’re all sweaty and sweet. Just like last night,” she whispers, standing on her toes to kiss me, crushing her perfect tits to my chest.
Jesus.
“Do you really think I can do this?”
I moan when she rubs her hip against my slowly hardening length. My hands rest on her waist. “Are we still talking about cakes?”
“Yes.” She smiles against my mouth. “What else would we be talking about?”
“You’re touching my cock. I have no idea what we’re talking about anymore.”
Laughing, she twists and brushes against me again.
“Baby,” I moan. “I need to go.”
“And I need to come.”
Ah, fuck.
I groan and suck on her tongue a little, touching her arse, feeling my reserve and all responsibility for the business I own fading to nothing.
Maybe I can make this quick? Maybe my attendees will understand my weakness for this woman and wait me out?
Maybe I don’t need to make this quick?
With a soft moan, Brooke pulls away so it’s only her hands on my hips and nothing else. She looks up, a softness pooling in her eyes.
“Thank you for coming over and talking to me. I’m sorry I worried you with my text. I wasn’t thinking.”
Christ, that text. I nearly got run over by a delivery truck sprinting over here like I did.
I frown. “It’s fine.”
“I’m with you.” She touches my face.
My breath catches in my chest. Brooke. I lean into her hand, my throat tightening as I try to swallow. “Yeah.”
“I’m with you, Mason,” she slowly repeats, her lip trembling, tears brimming her eyes again, but her voice so fucking sure it shatters any wall or shield she ever put up between us. Obliterating every hesitation and uncertainty. Every whispering doubt in my ear.
Gone. She’s mine, and I am so fucking hers I don’t remember the person I was before this.
“Baby.” I crush her against me, kissing her, giving her my racing heart and my urgent touch and every breath I will ever take. “With you,” I tell her.
She nods and breaks away to kiss my jaw and my cheek, pressing her lips all over my face.
We embrace each other, just holding, until our bodies steady and the pressing urge to touch and kiss and fuck lessens to a sufferable longing.
“Okay,” Brooke whispers against my mouth. “Go, before you lose half your class.”
“I don’t care.”
“Mason,” she laughs, kissing me hard and then with a firm hand, pushing against my shoulder, shoving me in the direction of the door. She gives me an incredulous look.
I don’t care . . . fuck, that’s a bit mad. A truth, nonetheless.
This is Brooke. My Brooke. She’s finally mine and she’s with me.
She’s with me.
I stop at the door. “Say it again.”
Lifting her head from the attention she’s giving the paper on the counter, a contented look shadows her face. Her hazel eyes appearing brighter now. Bigger, as she looks me straight on, standing taller, holding my gaze with that swelling confidence I’m used to seeing on her.
“I’m with you.”
Her sweet voice lifts in the air, her words soaking into me, saturating my heart, my bones, and somehow going deeper than that. I feel them absorbing into my blood and taking on the life of my pulse, beating . . .
I’m with you.
Beating . . .
I’m with you.
BROOKE
I’m excited for tonight. More than excited, actually. And not a bit nervous.