“I can’t believe…”
I’m not sure if the way she can’t seem to finish a thought is a good thing or a bad thing.
“I don’t understand why…”
I look down into the dark depth of her pretty eyes and tell her, “You will.”
I don’t care how long it takes or how hard it is toaccomplish, I will make sure Brooke knows I chose her. Even when she wasn’t here. Even when I didn’t think there was a choice to make.
It was her or nothing. Always was.
Always will be.
16
Brooke
Ithink if I came to Willow Bend to find Tobias is simply the same goofy, funny, laid-back guy I dated a decade ago, I’d be able to stay the course. I wouldn’t be struggling to rectify what I should do and what I want to do.
But the man standing in front of me now—claiming he hasn’t been with anyone since me in any capacity—isn’t the same Tobias Bradshaw I used to know.
He’s still goofy, funny, and laid-back.
Sometimes.
But now he’s also serious. Focused.
Intense.
And it’s that focused intensity I’m facing down now.
It’s consuming. It’s unrelenting.
It’s addicting.
It’s also clearly caused some form of temporary insanity, because I’m suddenly wrapping both arms around Tobias’s neck so I can pull his lips to mine.
The move is sudden. Unplanned. Uncontrollable. Much like the last time our mouths met in this very same place.
Only this round, I’m the instigator. Which is problem number one.
Problem number two? If I’m the instigator, I should also be the one who hits the brakes. Tobias did it last time—though maybe not gracefully—so now it’s my turn.
But I don’t know if I can. That I would if I could. Because being pressed against him like this feels too good. Familiar enough to not be weird, but new enough to be exciting.
That excitement is the excuse I’m going to lean on for why this kiss is significantly less sweet than the one Tobias offered, when he held me so carefully, brushing his lips against mine.
Conversely,Iam attempting to climb him like a tree, the limitations of my pencil skirt making that all but impossible as my fingers tangle in his hair and my tongue flicks against the seam of his lips.
Tobias stiffens, going still for a split second before his mouth opens against mine, a groan passing from him to me as his hands come to grip my ass, palming the growing fullness there as he pulls me tight to him.
Trying to lift one leg so I can feel more of him, I make some sort of a weird sound in frustration when I can’t accomplish my goal. If I didn’t love this damn skirt so much, I’d consider tearing it in half, because I don’t think I have ever wanted to be closer to someone.
I also might have retained a little bit more of my hardheadedness than I thought, because I keep fighting the garment, and keep failing. Frustration mounting, I’m about two seconds from grabbing my scissors, when Tobias’s hands leave my ass, skimming down my thighs to grip the hem.
Is he considering tearing the thing in half? Part of me is horrified, because again, I love the skirt. Another baser,slightly more feral part of me is titillated, because holy shit that would be hot.
But instead of destroying one of my favorite articles of clothing, Tobias fists the fabric, dragging it up until it reaches my hips. His hands come to my waist, circling tight as he hefts me up like I weigh nothing, depositing my partially exposed ass onto the surface of my desk.
