Thisis the Drew that I knew existed.
Thisis the Drew that Iwant—my mother's opinions and future-Brooke be damned.
"Fuck," he grunts as he slams into me once more, emptying inside me as I ride my own high.
My legs squeeze his firm waist as my body quivers between his wall of a chest and the real one behind me. He presses his dewy lips to mine, solid but eager, as if he's ingraining it to memory. I meet his fervor, with all of my thoughts still at the forefront of mind.
"Tell me you want this," he says between breaths after breaking our seal.
I search his eyes and come up with nothing short of longing. I nod, agreeing to both myself and to him. "I think I might," I admit, swallowing any remaining hesitation.
He exhales through a boyish smile. "What are you saying here, baby?"
I chuckle softly, remembering those same words from that night. "I guess I'm saying I'm good with this if you are."
20
Drew
"Have I mentioned this is my favorite room?"
Brooke looks up from where she's buttoning her pants and shrugs. "Only ever with me in it, which is interesting."
She paints a sly grin as I stride over to her, pushing her hair back and away from her perfectly flushed face. "You must have that effect on me."
She smothers a full smile, leaning slightly into my palm. "I never told anyone that before, ya know?" She stands up straighter as she inhales slowly. "That I let my P.R. manager set those things up."
"That's really not you?"
I shake my head almost shamefully. "I mean, I guess it used to be. Sort of. Or who I became. But after everything went down last season… I just—I couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't fake it. At least not on my own."
She drops her head, pretending to still be playing with the waistband of her pants, and my hand falls with it. "Drew," she says, her voice cautious. "How would we even do this?"
I blow a breath through my lips and trail my fingers down the outside of her arms. "Talk to me," is all I say.
Brooke turns and moves to her stuff, crouching down and searching through her bag. I try my best not to stare at her as she does it but,fuck, this girl is beautiful.When I met her here, I had no intention of things ending up like they did. But that's what happens with me and her. Things escalate unintentionally, or at least for me they do. Every look burrows through me, every touch like a branding. Every conversation ends with me all but baring my soul.
After a few seconds of digging, she pulls out a claw clip, and like muscle memory, she twists her collarbone-length hair back into it. Her clip sits in her mouth as her hands work their magic, and all I can think of is how her lips tasted on mine.
"You just told me that part of this life of yours revolves around planned outings with models and celebrities." She pulls a few pieces of hair loose so that they frame her face. "Of which I am not, if you weren't aware."
"You could be."
"Oh, but I couldn't."
I chuckle softly.If only she realized how much of a bonus that is.My face grows serious again as I step closer to her, brushing my hands up and down her arms. "Yeah, but that's the point. I don't want that anymore."
"So, what? You're just gonna completely flip the script? Change your whole life around?"
"Isn't that what you're doing?" I ask quickly.
She nibbles her lip, considering my answer. "But I'll still be working for the Flames," she says rather than responding to my question. "I told you I think I might want to do this for real. I can't mess up the only chance I have at proving that I'm capable. I need this."
I drop my hands, and she slings her bag over her shoulder. I know what she's dancing around—she can't mess up the only chance she has because of me. Because she knows if we go all in—if we make this official—that pull we have toward each other is capable of dragging us away from everything else.
But maybe that's the point.
Grabbing hold of the strap of her bag, I yank her back to me and brush her chin with the pad of my thumb. "We'll figure it out, I promise."
