There's no way that from this angle I could so much as even dip a hand inside, although that's exactly what I'd like to do. So, instead, I drop them altogether, only for one to land on his bulging cock strained between the seat and his right thigh. Just the feel of it makes me wetter, my nipples overly sensitive as they brush against his firm back. I press my palm against it, and Drew groans loud enough to hear over the bike's roar causing my hand to squeeze tighter as if I could somehow move it closer to where I need it most.
My other five fingers cling to the hem of his jacket, white knuckling it as I rest the front of my helmet on his shoulder, biting my lip so hard it hurts. Suddenly, the bike veers to the right, gravel from the side of the road crunching below the tires as Drew cruises onto the shoulder. Adrenaline rushes past me thanks to the quick change of pace, my heart-rate beating through my chest once we come to a stop.
Drew shuts the bike off completely, smacking the shield up on his helmet and twisting his torso to face me.
"I will fuck you over this bike if you so much as breathe the word, but I give it about two minutes before someone recognizes my ride and starts snapping pictures."
I stare at him in shock, which he probably can't even see through the tinted guard on my helmet. I stay quiet, torn between pretending I have no idea what he's talking about and actually accepting his offer.
"Your move, Mystery Girl," he continues impatiently, as if he didn't walk me right into this. "This is the kind of shit people expect from me. Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor."
Past-Brooke goes to speak first—to point out that technically if I left my helmet on, no one would know it was me he was pounding against the back of the bike. But future-Brooke pops onto my other shoulder, arguing that this is not the kind of behavior someone in their thirties trying to settle down would partake in. Sex? Sex is fine—I hope senile-Brooke is still getting laid. But I'm supposed to be taking all of this more seriously. And as serious as indecent exposure can be, that's not exactly what I had in mind.
"Take me home," I say, reaching forward and sliding his shield back into place. Drew hesitates for only an instant, then spins back around. He reaches to restart the engine but before he can, I palm him once again—with purpose this time—touching the side of my helmet to his. "But then, this is mine… however I want it."
24
Drew
"You knew this was going to happen when you pulled up to The Pub tonight, didn't you?"
"Oh, I sure hoped it would." I wrap my arms around Brooke, who against my wishes, searches her tan dresser drawer for a pair of pants.
"Well, Twelve, you sure fuck like you're twenty-five. I'll give you that," she says, turning around in my hold with a pair of those sleep shorts girls wear that are just a step above underwear.
My eyebrows shoot up as I suck my teeth, pulling her close. "And what's all this say about you, huh? You started it."
Her mouth drops open in disbelief, as if she took no part in the highway foreplay we admittedly both initiated at about the same time. I roll my eyes playfully, continuing to tease her.
"Brooke, you practically groped me from the back of my bike." Her face scrunches up as she pushes me away. "Just admit it. I'm irresistible, baby."
My hands open wide as I gesture to myself, only in my boxers. She shakes her head, bending to step into her shorts, and avoids eye contact. "Yeah, yeah, whatever," she mumbles sarcastically, peering up at me witha smirk on her face. "No one said putting down roots had to mean giving up getting laid."
"Just getting laid by anyone but me." My words shoot out quicker and more stern than I mean for them to, but I'm definitely not sorry about it. I was serious when I said I wanted Brooke. And I didn't mean for only that night.
"You keep doing that thing that you did with your tongue just then, and I don't think we'll have any problems with that."
I huff out a laugh as she smiles coyly, then I throw her a wink. "All part of my charm."
Brooke's eyes look toward the ceiling as she walks through her bedroom door. I follow her, studying the photos that line the navy blue wall, documenting everything from candids of a damn cute baby, to pictures of her with Coach's girl. There are also photos of her with a guy that looks like he's probably her brother and even one of her with the blonde from the bar—the one that didn't scare me shitless.
When we reach the living room, I really see it for the first time. We had to cross through to get to her bedroom, but when we busted through her apartment door like the hallway outside was on fire, my mind—and my eyes—weren't on anything but Brooke. My jeans may be strewn over the back of her fluffy, cream-colored couch, but I wasn't watching where they landed an hour ago. With her in front of me, my vision tunneled as it usually does.
I knew Brooke and I were compatible in more ways than one when we first locked eyes at the gala. Something in my bones told me she was different. But since then, I've realized just how alike we really are. Just how much we have in common. Starting with the bedroom.
She and I are both insatiable. I can never seem to be near her enough, on her enough, in her enough. And I know realistically, Ican'tbe sure being that she keeps things close to her chest, but I am—the same way I was sure before—she feels it too.
It's the reason both of us felt the energy shift the second we stepped outside on our own at The Pub. The reason our hands started wandering the second my tire cleared the lot. One glance at each other and it's all either of us need. And it's not even physical. It's just a pull between us,drawing us together. One I never experienced before she walked into that ballroom.
"So, talk to me about this charm," Brooke says, settling into the corner of the couch.
I reach over her, purposefully leaning down a little more than necessary to grab my pants from just above her head. She kisses my chest gently before I pull away, and I swear it hits my soul.
"What about it?" I ask, ignoring the urge I have to take her here all over again.
"What parts of theDrew Andersonthe world knows, would I actually be getting?"
I step into my jeans, Brooke watching my every move, as I contemplate my answer. "Why don't you tell me whatyouthink?"
