Chapter 25
Declan
When we walked into the in-house restaurant I noticed it was nice as hell. We are in a fucking five-star hotel so I expect as much. We don’t fit in here, which is why most of the guys went out to eat. It makes me feel a little on edge. My body is a little tenser than usual, but I wanted Brooke to have a good time, and I knew they were having live music here tonight.
“You look so different,” she says as she keeps smiling at me. I love the way her eyes light up, the way her smile has brightened.
“Was I so bad before?” I asked giving her a smirk.
“No. You know you’re hot. I’ve just never seen you without the cut and all that.” Her eyes travel over my plain black button-down shirt. What? I can’t go all preppy on her! This right here is something I reserve for funerals.
“You look good too,” I tell her. Her cheeks flush at my compliment. She’s not usually like this. She doesn’t always let her emotions show on her face so I blame it on the amount of wine that she’s already consumed.
“Thank you. For all of this.”
“I said no more thank yous. I’m glad you’re here,” I tell her honestly. I was hoping she’d come. In fact, when I went to ride around town I was thinking of how to ask her. Saying the words out loud was harder than I thought it would be but I knew I wanted her to come along. I’d never had a real relationship before Brooke. This is all new to me.
“What was your mom like?” she asks me. My heart leaps a little. It’s a strange concept for me to talk to someone else about her. She knows some minimal details about my mom, but I want to share more with her. That’s the kind of person Brooke is; she makes you feel safe. You want to tell her things because you know you can trust her with it.
“She was a great mom. She did everything she could for me. She tried to raise me to be a better man than my dad wanted to.” Brooke watches me, her glass of wine in her hand. For some reason, looking at Brooke makes it easier for me to talk about my mom. The pain and loss seems much less when she’s close.
Her beauty, this setting – it’s like something out of a movie. This isn’t what I’d expected when I asked her to come with me.
“What happened to her?”
“She was shot and killed.” I take a deep breath before I can continue. The images of my mother are too fresh in my mind. “ I was with her when it happened. I was twelve at the time. Watchin’ her lie there and bleed to death, it killed me. My dad went crazy. He became distant and even more violent. He ended up making bad moves for the club. Understandable since she was the love of his life. After that, he raised me to be what I am today - he made me into the man I am.”
She takes a sip of her wine before setting the glass on the table. Her eyes are glossy like she wants to cry for me, for my situation but she doesn’t. She holds it back.
“What about your parents?” I ask. I see the look. She’s closing me out. She doesn’t trust me enough to give me that information, even if I did just give mine to her.
“Dance with me,” she says, her eyes looking haunted. I let her avoid the subject for now. I nod once and stand before taking her hand in mine, pulling her from the chair. I walk us to the dance floor, not really giving a shit that everyone is staring at us. With all my tattoos and shit, I can’t say that I blame them. But this isn’t about them; this is Brooke and me. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her closer to my body. She throws her arms around my neck, holding on tightly.
“You know everyone is staring at us,” she whispers.
I chuckle before I say, “Let them stare. We’re makin’ magic right now.”
Brooke pulls back, staring up at me with wide eyes. “Are we?” she says softly, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“Yeah, we are, baby.” I lean down and press my lips to hers. You can feel it. The magic of this moment. It surrounds us.
Our lips dance to their own song as our bodies do the same. Everything about her feels right, but there’s something off since our conversation and it's nagging at the back of my mind. I feel like she’s trying to avoid something from her past. Her focus has drifted. I break our kiss and pull her into my chest. I need to get her back in a good place. This night is going too perfectly for it to end with her regretting coming with me. I want that connection that we’ve had to linger with us the rest of the night so I change the subject.
“What did you want to be when you were younger?” I ask.
“I wanted to be a princess, like any other girl my age.” She giggles softly.
“You are a princess. My princess.”
“So, you’re my prince?” She pulls back enough to look up at me.
“I can be anything you want me to be,” I tell her. It’s true, and I mean it. She makes me feel that way, like I can do or be anything in the fucking world. It’s an amazing feeling to have, too.
“I just want you to be you, Dec.”
I swallow hard. How she has this effect on me, I will never understand, but I like it. It’s some more of that magic that makes us, us.
I lean in and tell her, “I wanna take you to our room.”
“And do what exactly?” She’s playing with me, and my dick is loving it. When the words leave her mouth, I’m instantly relaxed that my playful Brooke has come back.
“First, I wanna take all your clothes off. Then I want to kiss every inch of your skin.” Her breathing picks up. Fuck, I love that I am the one who can make her react like that, make her feel these things.
“Then what?” she asks, her breathing coming heavier.
“Then I want to lick you until you call out my name.”
“Then?” God, look at her. So, fucking turned on by my words.
“Then I wanna pull your fuckin’ hair so hard that it hurts and plunge into you so goddamn deep that I will mark you for days.” I can see the red cross her cheeks. The way her body shudders slightly. She’s horny.
“So, why don’t you do it?” she asks breathlessly with a quirk of her brow.
I grin devilishly at her before I say, “Nope. I want dessert first.”
Brooke’s mouth hangs open before she punches me in the chest.