Chapter Ten
Brooke didn’t cry at weddings. She didn’t. The moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes as she watched David and Chris exchange vows wasn’t tears. It was her damn ragweed allergy acting up again. In March.
“Here,” Eli whispered, dangling a handkerchief from his fingertips.
“A handkerchief? Who still carries a handkerchief?” She took it, running her thumb over the “EWJ” embroidered in the corner. “And monogrammed, no less.”
“They’re extremely handy. Perfect for lending to damsels in distress.”
“Do you come across a lot of those?”
He took her free hand and weaved his fingers with hers. “Only one, recently.”
She dabbed at her eyes—stupid allergy—and turned her attention back to the ceremony. As happy as she was for David and Chris, who had finished with the vows and were exchanging rings, she couldn’t help feeling a little wistful.
Things were finally starting to go her way. Her agent had loved the last set of revisions. She lived in a great neighborhood, surrounded by good friends. And she had a hotter-than-hell guy in her bed every night who made sure she never went to sleep unsatisfied.
But how long would it last? Her book might never sell. Any day now, she and her friends could be out on the street. And as much fun as she was having with Eli, watching David and Chris stand before their family and friends and swear to have and to hold from this day forward, seeing the love and promise in their eyes as they slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers, made her wonder if maybe she and Eli could have that, too.
“You okay?” he asked under his breath.
She nodded and stared straight ahead, not daring to look at him. Her face had always been an open book, and she was afraid of what he might see there now. “Allergies.”
“Right.” He drew out the word like he was savoring it.
“Screw you.”
He chuckled and turned her hand over in his, running his thumb over her palm. The slight touch reverberated all the way to the tips of her toes in her high-heeled Roman sandals. “Later.”
“Shh,” Mr. Feingold hissed loudly, rapping Brooke on the shoulder. “I can’t hear.”
“Neither can anyone else now, thanks to you, old man,” his wife scolded, her voice only slightly softer than her husband.
For the rest of the ceremony, Brooke kept her mouth shut and her eyes on the happy couple. No easy task with Eli refusing to release her hand, his thumb continuing to draw slow circles on her palm. How could such a simple, seemingly innocuous touch create such a tidal wave of sexual pleasure? It was a good thing they were sitting down because she didn’t think her legs would support her.
Only when the service was over and David and Chris shared their first—almost obscenely long—kiss as spouses for life did she sneak a glance at Eli. He looked right back and mouthed, “Later.”
“One-track mind,” she mouthed back. But at that moment, as David and Chris continued to kiss and Eli stared at her with a bittersweet smile, something deep inside told her they were talking about more than sex.
Cocktails and dinner passed in a sort of blur. By the time they’d eaten Mallory’s fabulously prepared food and Charise’s boyfriend du jour had started spinning tunes on Eli’s sound system, Brooke had a nice little champagne buzz. She shook her booty to Beyoncé and Britney Spears and taught the Feingolds the Electric Slide before a slow song came on, one that called for lots of touching and swaying and romance. PDA of the highest degree.
“It’s about time.” Eli intercepted her at the edge of the makeshift dance floor and held out his hand. His jacket was long gone, and he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves to his elbows. “Dance with me.”
It was a command, not a question. Brooke looked at his outstretched hand then met his gaze. It was what she saw there that made her overcome her deep-seeded aversion to public displays of affection. Not need or desire, but a kind of quiet desperation, as if his world would end if they didn’t share this dance.
She took his hand and let him lead her past the other swaying couples to the center of the floor. His grip tightened, and he tugged her closer so he could slide his other arm around her waist. The heat of his palm on her back scorched her skin through the crepe of her dress. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and flattened her free hand against his chest.
“It was a beautiful wedding,” she said lamely, her eyes fixed on one of his shirt buttons.
“Thanks to you.” The hand at her back pressed more firmly against her until their hips brushed with every step.
“And you.”
He dipped his head so his lips skimmed her earlobe. “What do you say we get out of here?”
She pulled back far enough to look at him. “Wouldn’t that be rude?”
She followed his gaze to David and Chris, locked in each other’s arms on the opposite side of the dance floor, oblivious to everything but themselves. “Somehow I don’t think they’ll miss us.”
“What about my sister?” She scanned the rooftop for Mallory and spotted her helping one of the waiters cut and plate the cake.
“What about her?” He pulled her back to him and pressed his cheek to hers. Under her palm, his heart beat as wildly as hers.
She closed her eyes and listened to the music. Eric Clapton’s “Wonderful Tonight.” Fitting. The night had been pretty darned wonderful. She sighed and let go of her last shred of doubt, letting herself drown in the music and the moment and the man. “I told her I’d help with the cleanup.”
“She’s got staff. You’ve done enough.” Eli spun her around in a slow circle so she could take it all in. The sun, which had been setting during the ceremony, was long gone, and the white LEDs twinkled against the backdrop of the cloudless blue-black sky. “Look at this place. You transformed a half-finished garden into a rooftop paradise.”
“Like I said, I had help.”
“Every team needs a leader.”
His cheek brushed her hair, and his hand slid up her back in a gentle caress. He shifted his grip on her hand so his thumb was back to its old tricks, teasing her palm with soft circles. Like before, the simple touch set off a tsunami inside her.
“Okay, let’s go.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “But I have to let my sister know I’m leaving. And I’m grabbing us a couple of pieces of cake. It’s chocolate almond, with raspberry mousse and a chocolate ganache. I never pass up chocolate.”
“I like the way you think.” He dropped a kiss on the top of her head that should have been platonic but only served to whip her already crazed hormones into a frenzy. “I’ll snag a bottle of champagne and meet you at my place in five minutes.”
“Why your place?”
“It’s about twenty feet closer. And I don’t want to wait any longer than necessary to have you naked and underneath me.”
“You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl.” She toyed with a button on his shirt, two fingers slipping between what felt like two-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton to stroke his bare flesh. Two could play this game. “But who says I’ll be underneath you?”
His eyes darkened to a velvety blue, and the heartbeat under her hand stuttered. “Good point.”
He slid a finger under her chin, lifted her face to his, and kissed her again. No prelude, no hesitation, nothing platonic about it this time. He dipped his head to hers and claimed her mouth like it was his for the taking, no matter where they were or who was watching.
When he was finished, he stepped back, brushed a loose hair behind her ear, and headed for the bar, leaving her dazed and wanting in the middle of the dance floor. Heart pounding, she navigated on shaky legs through the crowd of dancers and found Mallory still doling out cake.
“That was some kiss,” her sister said, not wasting any time getting into the thick of things.
“Oh. You saw.”
“Everyone saw. You two weren’t exactly subtle.” Mallory continued to cut and plate cake, her knife working quickly and efficiently. “This guy must be special. I thought you hated PDA.”
“If I take off, will you be okay cleaning up without me?” Brooke asked, ignoring her sister’s implication.
“Fine. Don’t answer me. And yes, you can go get down and dirty with your new boy toy. I’ve got plenty of help.” Mallory handed her two pieces of cake. “Get out of here.”
“You know I love you.” Brooke took both plates and grabbed a third for good measure. “Lunch Tuesday? Anywhere but Heirloom.”
“Sounds good. I’ll text you.”
Carefully balancing the cake plates, Brooke made her way down the stairs to Eli’s apartment. The door was open a crack, so she shouldered her way through, set the plates down on the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, and untied her sandals so she could pull them off. Why she’d thought she could wear those things for more than an hour without killing her feet was a mystery. She leaned against the counter and wiggled her relieved toes. Maybe she could convince Eli to give her another foot rub. Without any interruptions.
“What took you so long?”
His voice drifted across the apartment, lit by a solitary lamp. She turned to see him sitting in shadow on the bed. He’d already stripped off his tie, which lay discarded on the floor, and was working on the buttons of his shirt.
She took a step toward him. “Not wasting any time, I see.”
“I told you.” The shirt hit the floor next to the tie, and he started on his pants, sliding his belt from its buckle. “I’m not waiting one second longer than necessary to fuck you.”
“Then I’d better get naked.” Her fingers found the zipper at the back of her dress and pulled it down. She could feel his eyes on her as she slipped it off her shoulders, wriggled it down to her feet and kicked it to one side, leaving her standing in front of him in only a lacy black demi bra and a thong.
He stood and shucked off his pants, his hungry eyes continuing to roam over her. “Come here.”
She returned the favor, her gaze eating him up like he was a decadent, seductive desert, yummier than the chocolate almond cake that sat all but forgotten on the counter. Christ, he was magnificent, all lean muscle and smooth skin. “Make me.”
“So that’s how you want to play it.” He lay on the bed, leaning back on his elbows. “I didn’t know you liked it rough.”
She didn’t, but now that he’d mentioned it, the idea of shifting the balance of power in the bedroom, letting him take the reins, had a certain appeal.
She spotted his tie out of the corner of one eye and bent to pick it up.
Looping the silk around her neck, she moved between his splayed legs, putting her hands on his shoulders and bending over to whisper in his ear. “I want you to blindfold me.”
…
Beautiful. Sexy. Confident.
Those words barely scratched the surface of the exquisite creature standing before him, loud and proud and so damn perfect he ached to touch every inch of her. But it wasn’t the pouty breasts that hung inches from his mouth or the neatly trimmed landing strip of dark hair pointing the way to the promised land that wrecked him.
It was her vulnerability. Knowing she trusted him enough to relinquish control had him teetering on the edge.
He felt a momentary pang of guilt. He didn’t deserve her trust. But that was going to change. He had a new plan for Candy Court, one that had started forming as he’d watched the residents come together to make Chris and David’s wedding day one they’d never forget. A plan he hoped would help Brooke overlook the fact that he hadn’t been entirely truthful about his identity or his intentions. Once the ink was dry on the contracts and there was no way Dupree—or anyone else—could sneak in under the wire, he’d lay all his cards on the table and tell her everything.
But he didn’t have to wait until then to prove himself to her. He could start earning her trust now by giving her what she’d been brave enough to ask for.
“Are you sure?” He fingered one end of the tie around her neck.
She took it off, placed it in his open palm, and closed his fingers around it. “I’m sure.”
He gestured to the bed. “Lie down.”
She obeyed, lying on her back.
He joined her, straddling her hips. “Ready?”
She nodded. He lifted her head and secured the blindfold. “Too tight?”
She drew her lower lip into her mouth. “No.”
“Trust me. It’ll be good.” He dipped his head to her neck and dragged his lips along her collarbone. His hardening dick brushed her soft folds, already wet with her arousal. Torture. Sweet, fucking torture. “Eliminating one sense heightens the others.”
“You don’t say.” She shivered as his mouth opened to softly suck the skin at the top of one breast between his teeth. “Tell me more.”
“I’d rather show you.”
His hands cupped her face, and his mouth closed over hers in a kiss that was both passionate and possessive. He coaxed her lips open, and his tongue swept in to tangle with hers. He kissed her for long, leisurely minutes until they were both panting and desperate, then gentled the kiss and pulled back.
“You taste fucking amazing.” He pressed a kiss to her jawline. “Here.”
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, and her hands fisted in the rumpled comforter. His mouth moved to her breast. He swiped the nipple with his tongue. “And here. Sweet. Clean.”
She gave a soft moan and arched beneath him. “I didn’t know.”
“Know what?”
“That not being able to see you would be so…”
“Yes?” His hand joined his mouth at her breast, his fingers working in conjunction with his lips, toying with her nipple.
“Frustrating.” Her hands tightened their hold on the bedspread. “Intense.”
He lifted his head to look at her. “Good intense, or bad intense?”
“Good.” She sighed. “Definitely good.”
“It’s about to get better.”
He slid down her body until his head was level with her belly and his hands were on her inner thighs. His tongue circled her belly button as he pressed her legs apart. “Does it turn you on, not being able to see what I’m doing? Not knowing where I’ll touch you next? Whether I’ll use my hands or my mouth?”
She moistened her lips and nodded.
That was all the invitation he needed. He didn’t waste any time tasting her intimately, using the entire length of his tongue to devour her in long, slow strokes.
“So wet,” he murmured against her, adding a finger, then two, moving them in and out as he sucked on her sweet spot. “So tight.”
She writhed beneath him.
He raised his head and let his eyes roam up her body, soaking in every lush, lovely inch of her. “I need to be inside you.”
“Yes,” she panted, pressing her hips up to meet his probing fingers. “I want that, too.”
He rolled off her and reached for a condom on the bedside table. In seconds, he’d rolled it on and was back on top of her, his aching dick poised at her entrance.
“Now.” She hooked one leg around his waist. “Please, now.”
He stared down at her, watching her face as he slid inside her. His hips began to move, and Brooke wrapped both legs around him, urging him forward.
Eli pushed into her, setting a slow, steady rhythm. She met each thrust with a move of her own, bucking and writhing underneath him. Her nipples brushed against his chest, and his jaw clenched as he gradually picked up the pace. Their bodies moved in perfect rhythm as he plunged into her over and over, withdrawing every so often to tease her with the head of his cock before thrusting into her again.
He stilled with his cock buried deep inside her. “Tell me what you need.”
“You know what I need.” The edge in her voice made his balls tighten.
“Maybe.” He swept a hand up her body to cup one breast, brushing his fingers over the nipple and watching it harden. “But I’d still like to hear it. You know, to be sure I’m getting it right.”
“Oh, you’re getting it right.” She let her head fall back against the pillow, extending the long line of her neck. “Trust me.”
He moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment with the same result. “Tell me.”
“Jerk.”
“Yeah.” He removed his hand and stared down at her as she undulated against him, willing him with her body to finish her off. “But I’m the jerk that’s going to give you what you need.”
She let out a stifled moan.
“Why so shy all of a sudden?” he teased, reaching up and flicking one end of the tie covering her eyes. “You didn’t have any trouble asking me to blindfold you.”
“Fine, you win.” Her head thrashed from side to side. “I need to come. Like, now.”
“Ask, and you shall receive.”
He moved inside her again, leaning back enough so he could watch his cock disappear and reappear. There was nothing more erotic than seeing them connected in the most intimate way possible. When he felt her start to spasm around him, he reached down and whipped off the necktie.
She turned her head and buried her face in the pillow.
“Don’t hide from me.” He brought a hand to her face and turned it back to him. “I want to see the look in your eyes when you come. They get all wide and dreamy, and your mouth forms this perfect little “o,” like you’re surprised every time it happens. It’s a huge fucking turn-on.”
Slowly, she opened her eyes, blinking up at him as she trembled and shook with the force of her orgasm. He followed right after, spilling his own release inside her. When he was done, he rolled to his side, taking her with him. She laid her head on his shoulder, the rapid rise and fall of her chest gradually slowing as she recovered.
“So, now I know.” One leg tangled with his.
His breath caught at the openly possessive move. “Know what?”
“What all the fuss is about.” She sighed and snuggled into him. “You were right. It does heighten all the other senses.”
He smiled against her cheek as he stroked her hair and back. Her stomach rumbled, and he laughed. “Hungry?”
“Well, we did work up an appetite.” She eyed the plates on the kitchen counter. “And there’s three perfectly good slices of chocolate almond cake practically within arm’s reach.”
“I suppose you want dessert in bed.”
“I wouldn’t object.” She raised her arms above her head, stretching like a cat and bringing all her fun parts into contact with his—breasts to chest, wet heat to hardening cock. His recuperative powers were strong with this one.
He bent to nip her lower lip. “How do you feel about food play?”
“Okay, I’ll bite.” She smoothed a hand down his belly, letting it rest on the curve of his hip, tantalizingly close to the V that led to his groin. “Pun intended. But only on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
In one swift, sudden move she flipped him onto his back and climbed on top of him, giving him a perfect view up her sleek torso to her ripe, round breasts. “This time you wear the blindfold.”