Chapter 27
izzy
He has a child. Well, a young adult. Okay. I can handle the idea. We had a great day, yesterday. Cady is nice; she’s funny. She reminds me of Brooks in too many ways to count.
But she’s an adult, going to college, and I don’t even know what I want to do with my life yet.
Brooks tells her to get a job and be responsible but I don’t have a real job. My parents still pay for my apartment.
Does it really matter? Am I beating myself up over nothing because I would never be number one if I were to be part of Brooks’s life? I’m not just talking about Cady but Alice. Alice in bloody Wonderland. He couldn’t tell me he is over her.
Oh, Izzy, grow up. Of course, he isn’t over her, she is the mother of his child. She will always be there.
See, this is my point exactly. I need to grow up myself.
“Izzy? Does that all sound okay?”
I move my attention from my fingers to Kerry, as she and I sit with Madge and Brooks around a table in the gym bistro. “Erm, yes. The studio will send a car. Brooks and I will drive to AMTV together. They’ll ask about the results of the two weeks.”
Brooks puts his hand on my thigh and questions me with his gaze. I force myself to smile back at him.
“Great,” Kerry says, shuffling pieces of paper on the table in front of her. “Next, we need to go over a few details of your London promo events when you get back. Brooks, Madge, you guys are free to go if you like. You’re welcome to stay too.”
“We’ll leave you to it,” Brooks says.
After saying their good-byes to Kerry—Brooks seemingly increasingly less offended by her—I watch Brooks and Madge move into reception. As Kerry starts talking me through three book signing dates in the UK, I can’t take my eyes off Brooks. He drags a hand back through his hair and across his chin. Madge reaches a hand to his shoulder, as if she’s comforting him. Then she folds him into her arms and they linger there.
Sickness builds in my stomach. I can tell he’s nervous about the TV appearance tomorrow but I think it’s more than that. Has he realized I’m not right for him? Or, like me, is he dreading tomorrow because it is day fourteen, our last day together?
“You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”
I look at Kerry through clouded eyes. I don’t answer her question. There’s no need. I know the answer will be written all over my face. I’m in love with him.
“You can always come back, babe. You don’t have to stay in London forever.”
Right on cue, my mobile rings and “MUMMY” lights up the screen. I silence her—again. I know she will be freaking out after seeing my blog. She’s my mother; she’ll know there’s something going on between Brooks and me. And she’ll hate it. Since I already know that, what’s the point in hearing it from her?
A text message follows the call and I delete it after reading the words:
ISABELLA COULTHARD, YOU ARE IGNORING ME AND I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.
Kerry and I part ways and I go in search of Brooks.
“Are you ready to get some results?” he asks when I reach his office.
A distraction. “Yes, sure. Are we doing it here?”
He flashes me a sly look.
“Doing the tests here!”
He chuckles. The sound thaws the ice that is starting to build around my heart to protect me from what is coming.
“We can take a few measurements here. We’ll use the scales downstairs. I don’t think we need much, just something to talk about tomorrow. Do you agree?”
“I do. Now, take that shirt off,” I say with a wink that has him laughing again.
I kick his office door shut and he draws the blinds before pulling his T-shirt off over his head. Taking the measuring tape from him, I close the space between us, knowing the one thing that will make me feel better about tomorrow is having his arms around me now, being with him completely.
Standing in front of him, I bring the measuring tape around his back and across his chest, my fingertips gently trailing his skin. I write down the size of his chest, then move to his side, wrapping the tape around his bicep, pressing my lips to his shoulder as I work. Bending to my knees, I pull down his shorts until his thighs are exposed. I nip the skin in my teeth while working out the girth of his solid quads.
“Izzy, if you don’t stop, this is only going to end one way.”
I look up at him through my lashes and see the lust on his face, as if it is a mirror of my own. With my eyes on him, I run my hands up his legs and press my lips to his navel, his abs, his sternum. I need this.
Wrapping my ponytail around his hand, he pulls me up to him and crashes his mouth against mine with a growl.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Izzy.”
“Be with me,” I whisper. “I need you. I can’t stand the thought that tomorrow—”
He takes my mouth again, even more ferociously, and lifts me onto the edge of his desk. I kick off my trainers as he lays me back and tugs off my bottoms and knickers. He licks his fingers then strokes them along my sex.
“You really want this,” he says, feeling my excitement.
“Yes. Please.”
He pushes his boxers down to meet his shorts, tugs my hips to the edge of the desk, then stops. “Wait, I need—”
“No. I want to feel you, Brooks. I want to be with you, properly.”
“Izzy, I can’t.”
“You can. I get why you like to be extra safe, I do. But it’s not going to happen again. I’m on the pill. Please.”
He closes his eyes and dips his head back, clearly fighting with himself. Then his eyes shoot open and he drives into me, covering my mouth with his hand as I groan with relief and pleasure. “Jesus, Izzy, you feel fucking amazing.”
I kiss his hand and he takes it away from my mouth, moving to hold my hips as he draws all the way out of me and slides back in. The move sends shivers through my body. All I can think of is him. Not tomorrow. Not the what-ifs. Just him. Us. Fused together.
I feel myself build with each thrust. I lock my legs around his arse, telling him to come at me harder. His muscles start to tense and I know he’s close too. My mind begins to cloud and I start the final ascent.
A knock on the office door startles us both to stillness, Brooks inside me, both of us looking at the unopened door. I’m sure we’re both thinking we should have locked it.
“Brooks? There’s someone calling on the main line asking for you.”
He shakes his head quickly, as if clearing it. “Charlie, Izzy and I are just doing some measurements. We won’t be much longer. Can you take a message?”
I slap my hands across my mouth to stop my laughter from escaping.
“You got it.”
Brooks takes my hands from my mouth, pulling me up to sit as my amusement finally escapes and is matched by his. He pulls my top over my head, then holds me to him, his skin on mine. His amusement fades from his dark, hooded eyes and he kisses me slowly, deeply, rotating himself inside me again in delicious circles.
As I reach my peak, I wrap my arms around him, pulling him tighter to me, and groan into his chest. He thrusts harder, his fingers digging into my arse cheeks, and we come together.
I feel like everything is charged around us, like I’m on fire, melting into this man who I am, without a shadow of doubt, 100 percent in love with.
“I haven’t been with anyone like that since…” He tightens his hold on me and presses kisses to my hair. “I wish we were in my bed so I wouldn’t have to let you go.”
“Me too.”
With another gentle kiss, he steps away from me and pulls up his shorts. “Let me get you something to clean up.”
He goes to the top drawer of his desk and takes out a box of tissues.
“I wonder why a man would keep tissues hidden in the top drawer of his desk,” I tease. “Do you have a tub of lube in there too?”
He pauses, holding the tissues midair. “You are crass, Izzy Coulthard. Very crass.”
“You love it,” I say with a wink.
He surprises me by kissing me in response and wiping me down with tissues. It’s a small gesture that feels intimate and tender. Yep, I am head over heels in love with this man.
We move downstairs to the weighing scales, passing through reception on the way. Charlie is back behind the front desk.
“Sorry about that, Charlie. Did you take a message?”
I can feel my cheeks turning scarlet.
“Yeah, but it was really odd. She wanted to know where you live and where Izzy lives. She seemed to know you are living next to each other.”
“Press?” Brooks asks.
“I don’t know. It didn’t really seem like a professional approach. Anyway, here is her number. She said her name is Mrs. Perriwinkle. She didn’t give a first name.”
I dart forward, taking the notepaper from Brooks’s hand. “Let me see that.”
“Do you know who she is?”
I close my eyes and bite down on my lip. “Yes. It’s my mother.”
“Perriwinkle?” he questions.
“It’s a code name she uses when she doesn’t want people to know who she’s talking about. Like when she’s gossiping about someone at lunch. She’ll call the person Mrs. Perriwinkle so she doesn’t get caught out or overheard.”
“What? Why would your mother call here asking for me and why would she leave her number with a fake name?”
I sigh, knowing my mother too well. “Because she hoped you wouldn’t tell me that Mrs. Coulthard called. She wants to speak with you.”
“Why would she want to speak with... Because of us?”
I nod. “And she asked where we are staying, which means… Fuck.”
“She’s here?”
“Or coming.” And I know exactly what she’s coming to stop.