“That’s right, V. Give yourself to me.”
She opened her mouth to say something. What? She wasn’t sure. Instead, she clenched her thighs around him, her ankles involuntarily lifting to his lower back to give him better purchase.
“You’re mine. Were from the second I saw you.”
“I can’t relax.” Even as she spoke, her body disagreed with her words. His continued persistence sent her higher, the tension building.
“Mine.” His hand moved to her hair. “You’re mine.”
“Yours,” she muttered, her head falling to the side. The tension inside became more than she’d ever imagined.
The pressure continued to build.
She relaxed, and without warning, everything in her contracted, releasing on a wave of intensity. His fingertips brushed her nipples and then pinched. Another wave overwhelmed her, her core pulsing around every part of him.
He cursed. The pleasure was so intense, she didn’t even care. He trailed intimate kisses along her neck, to her collarbone, down to her breasts. Yet, somehow, he continued thrusting in her. Then he met her stare and held her hand as they fell together.
Chapter Sixteen
Countdown to Claire & Dean’s Wedding: 3 Weeks
The last thing Brek wanted to think about was reality outside of the bubble he had created around himself and Velma the last week. He fixed the messy bed in Velma’s room, pulling up her sheets and her comforter with the little roses printed on it.
He slept next to her and held her hand. She was scared of getting close to a guy who would be leaving. He understood. That didn’t mean he couldn’t take her out to a show at the Buell Theatre.
She had enjoyed the date he planned, too. He hadn’t told her where they were going. But her face went soft and her eyes got misty when she saw the playbill for some pansy-ass old musical. It hadn’t slipped his notice how afterward she’d moved his pillow next to hers, his soap to her shower, and his guitar to her bedroom.
The fact remained that she would stick around Denver after he left. More and more, he began to think of Denver as his base. His adult life had consisted of living out of hotel rooms, planning concerts, scoping out venues, and managing one of the most popular bands of the decade. He’d been the glue that kept Dimefront together this long. He traveled cross-country, celebrating the roar of the engine, the open road, and his freedom to do the job he loved.
Dean’s wedding was coming along. Dress was done. Flowers, catering, country club—everything was on track. Still, he’d braced for something to go wrong.
It hadn’t.
Velma made him consider changing the way he had always lived. Made him rethink a lot of things. Made him want to stay in Denver and keep their fling alive. Together they would figure something out when he had to take off. They should discuss shit like that. Lately, though, their time spent together was either working or…not talking, that’s for sure. Probably why they were getting along better than ever.
He came out of the bedroom and tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans. No shirt, since Velma had stolen the faded blue Dimefront tee he’d tossed on that morning.
She glanced up from some slick magazine she was reading while sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. “Hey.”
“Hey.” Brek tugged the magazine from her grip. Some chick magazine about losing inches while still eating the things you love.
She snatched it back and smoothed the pages. “I was reading that.”
His bare toes sunk into one of her foam mats as he opened the refrigerator, absently searching for a post-sex snack. He glanced to her.
She ran a fingertip over the glossy cover of the magazine.
He grabbed the half-full jug of milk and a tall cup because he didn’t particularly want to piss off Velma.
She smiled at something on the page, and it hit him in the gut.
Brek stared at her nipples poking against the front of his tee. It wasn’t particularly cold in the apartment. But you wouldn’t know that with the headlights flashing toward hi—
“You want your shirt back?” she asked, interrupting him from gawking at her tits.
He took a gulp of the milk and set it on the counter. “Nope. Looks better on you.”
“That’s debatable.” She flipped open the magazine again and skimmed a page.
