"It's okay, you can say it. Believe it or not, I have slept with men before you," I tease.
His jaw grows tight as he cracks his neck to one side. He clears his throat, then nods. "Yeah, no wild one-night-stands." He places his palms on the island and leans into them. "Turns out, I loved it. That was never who I was until I got here. The fans hated it though. They want me as the guy they painted or not at all I guess, which is my own fault in the first place so… here I am."
"Why would they care?"
Drew scoffs, pushing off the counter. "They care about everything." My face must read my hesitation because he sighs heavily, then continues. "Brooke, I once got hate for cutting my hair."
"Well, why'd you cut it?"
"I didn't!" He rubs his forehead with his first two fingers, then looks at me with sorrow in his eyes. "But that's my point."
My brain slowly catches up to the Drew that I've seen over the last week or so. The one that's hidden underneath the showman antics and bad boy lifestyle. I think part of me knew he was there the moment we locked eyes at the gala. It's why I really felt drawn to hide who I was. Part of me knew that I would fall for him—despite his reputation, despite his age. And yet… hereIam.
Before I realize it, I'm rounding the island, my eyes—and my heart—set on my prize. Drew turns to me when I reach him. He peers down at me sternly, as if he's waiting for my judgement, but it won't come. I'm all too familiar with feeling like you have to please everyone else but yourself. I just never thought I'd be considered the lucky one.
My whole life has been built on top of their disappointment. It's a quiet friend that tags along, but it doesn't steer my way. In Drew's life,he'sthat friend. Someone else is driving, and he's just along for the ride.
"So, what do you want, Twelve?" I repeat my question, but this time, I expect another answer.
He raises one eyebrow slightly and searches my face. "I thought I just kind of told y—"
His words drop off when I dip the tips of my fingers into the waistband of his pants, shaking my head. His eyes shoot to my hands, then back up to mine as I echo the same words. "What do you want?"
Drew's gaze grows heavy, his lips just barely parting, and I tilt my head as if to say,well?
After a quick pause, and a deep breath, he finally answers. "A banana," he says seriously.
I pull my head back, trying to gauge if that's some sort of weird kink or double entendre that I'm missing. He must read my confusion because he chuckles softly as his hand sinks past my cheek and into my hair. "To eat," he clarifies.
I can't help but smirk as my brows knit together tightly. "Okay, not what I—"
"So I don't cramp like a motherfucker when I finally get to you."
22
Drew
Allinnuendo aside, I've never downed a banana so fast in my life. I almost didn't even mention it—Brooke standing there asking me what I wanted is just about the only thing that could derail my recovery routine. But considering I knew the foam roller and ice bath were out of the question with her here, I had to at least keep myself from cramping while inside of her. Nothing saysruin the moodlike a charlie horse mid-fucking-thrust.
Luckily, Brooke excused herself to go to the bathroom and take a look around, which gave me the three minutes I needed to at least push off any spasms. Maybe I am losing my touch a little bit with all these dates Jane's been making for me.
Nah.
Heading out of the kitchen, I search for Brooke. My penthouse is definitely more than I need, but it's not so big that she should have gotten lost on her way back out. Not to mention, the last time she was here, she spent most of the time washing smoothie out of her clothes in the very spot she should be now. It's been a few minutes though—I even had time to chug another water—and she hasn't come back from her little self-guided tour.
Taking the few steps it takes to get to the bathroom, I peek my head in—no signs of Brooke. I push off the doorframe, moving further down the hallway, and almost walk right past her sitting on my bed, the comforter tossed over her lap.
"I've always wanted to fuck on sheets with a thread count this high," she says coolly, her palm stroking the fabric beneath it.
"Oh, yeah?" I ask, slinking over to her. "That can be arranged." I throw the blanket to the side, revealing Brooke's naked lower half, and my hand immediately flies to my mouth before it drags down my chin.
"You ready to tell me what youreallywant, Twelve?"
My whole body reacts to her, my chest and pants both equally tight, and I blow out a breath as I hover over her, straddling my arms on either side of her body. "You, Brooke. I want you."
She bites her lower lip, and I can't stop myself. I take it between my teeth and do the same. "Good answer," she says when I pull away.
My eyes trail down the length of her again, my hoodie still on and pulled down just low enough to cover what I want that she's hiding underneath. "God, I could get used to seeing you in my clothes."
