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My cheeks flushed, eyes wide as I watched his profile, his gaze fixed ahead of us. Hell, I thought I’d imagined that. “I remember,” I breathed, suddenly incapable of having enough oxygen to power proper words. Where in the hell was he going with this?
“When that blond douche, Brian Moretti, stood you up on prom night, I wanted to physically tear him limb from limb. Feed him to the sharks.”
“You shoved him off the dock,” I recalled, smiling softly and pushing my legs to keep up with his determined stride. I’d never seen Broderick move with this sense of urgency, unless he had a football in his hands. He powered each step with an unspoken purpose that I didn’t understand.
A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest as he nodded. “I have countless screw ups in my life, El. I’m far from perfect—kind of a fuck up, really.” When my mouth popped open to protest, he whirled to face me, setting his warm fingers against my lips and instantly rendering me silent. “But the worst of them all has been hurting you.”
“Brod—”
“I’m sorry,” he cut me off, closing the distance as he brought those big hands to my arms, pulling me into him, soothing the length of them. We froze within the stream of the city, forcing the scattered pedestrians to split around us like an island in the flow of a river. “I never got a chance to tell you that. Never knew how to say it. But there it is— I’m sorry. I’m sorry for hurting you. First, during your junior prom.”
Heat flushed my cheeks, the memory of his mouth on mine and hands on my body flooding the corners of my mind. God, I’d never been so thrilled with myself as I was in that moment. He was my nirvana…until he wasn’t. He’d pulled away, muttering apologies for stepping out of line, and when I attempted to reassure him, he told me he should never have kissed a minor. A minor. Like I hadn’t been in love with him since I knew what love was. Like we hadn’t served as the other’s safe harbor for years. That old ache echoed back at me as he studied my face, my mouth, finally locking on my eyes.
“Again, last summer, the day James got arrested. And every damn year in between.” He stroked the gentlest caress down the length of my cheek, goosebumps rippling in his wake. Undeniable hunger filled those crisp brown eyes, shadowed by sadness. “Sarah. The gym this week. Taylor Swift.” He shook his head, chin dipping. “So many screw ups.”
Heart falling out my ass, I made to pull back, but panic flared across his face as it snapped to mine, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me to him, caging me against his hips as frantic eyes flicked between mine. His other hand suddenly forked through my hair, coming to cradle the back of my head and sending the air rushing between my parted lips. My startled hands settled against his chest.
“Broderick? What are you saying?” That was the thing about internal injuries. The physical ones would clot and bruise and web together over time. But the unseen ones? Those are forever. Those old scars smarted just the same as they had when he’d left them, and I stifled the hint of hope his words planted. I wasn’t allowed to hope. Especially when he held me just like this days ago, only to vanish on me altogether. Not even as he held me, like he cradled the world in those broad palms.
Sheepish eyes dropped between us before coming back to trace my face, lingering on my mouth. “That I’ve been a coward, Pix. That I’ve been terrified for years.”
“Terrified of what?” I wanted the words to come out like a demand, but the fear, the sincerity in his eyes robbed me of my strength, leaving in its stead a confused, desperate kind of want… A want reflected back to me in dark eyes, his pupils blown wide, and dropping to my lips.
“That I’m too late,” he said as my hands slid over his where they cradled my face. A gentle thumb traced over my cheekbone. “That a better man would scoop you up and I’d never get to apologize or admit the truth of it. To tell you how fucking brave I think you are.” Another stroke of my cheek that fueled my rapid-fire heart. “I’m scared I’ll never get to tell you that your brothers have nearly killed me with this pact of theirs. That every day I see you and can’t touch you is a slow kind of death.” One warm palm eased down my neck as if he could coax me back into breathing where I’d solidified to stone beneath his touch. Beneath the lunacy of the words hovering in the air between us. “I’ve been terrified of what would happen if I screwed everything up and let myself have you.”
The world stopped. Tilted. Like we’d been submerged in water, the chaos of the street vanished and my entire body ignited under the intent in his gaze, the heat of our skin where it met. Because his forehead was resting on mine, his inhales robbing the air from my chest.
“Terrified to ask you to forgive me.” His warm hands slid up and tilted my chin, our mouths nearly brushing before he leaned back, just an inch as if to search my eyes for an answer. He must have seen something, because he leaned back in, breath hot on my face as he said, “To ask you if there were no other factors, would you still want me?”
I gave a tiny, breathless nod…and then the world detonated. I hadn’t even realized where he’d taken me until an enthusiastic symphony of saxophones blared to life on speakers everywhere as the enormous Bellagio fountains burst into synchronized dances to my left…and Broderick Allen ripped away every ounce of sense as his lips claimed mine.
Broderick
I kind of expected one of two things to happen when I kissed Elora Rhodes. One—she’d hesitantly kiss me back, more of a ‘letting it happen’ before letting me down easy. Easier than I’d let her down, at least. Two—she’d rear back, cock that arm like we taught her to, and ring my bell. Maybe tell me I was an idiot and missed my chance. Either reality seemed liable to happen, and I’d deemed the gamble worth taking.
What I didn’t expect was for the world as I knew it to implode in her tiny fists where they gathered my shirt like she hung on for dear life. Frank Sinatra’s Luck Be a Lady blared through the center of the strip as she raised on her toes, the full weight of her leaning into me like she was about to collapse. I pinned her against me. Wanting more. Needing more. I cupped the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, urging her tighter against me. In the same heartbeat, she scraped her manicured nails beneath the hem of my shirt, and along the skin beneath. A shiver wracked my spine, and I nipped her bottom lip, swallowing her breathy moan that followed before running my tongue over it to soothe away any sting. El’s nails dug into my oblique, her other hand cradling the back of my head as I tightened my fingers in her hair. El pressed her hips against mine, and I knew she could feel exactly how badly I needed her. Spine tugging, I barely groaned her name.
It was the abrupt crescendo of saxophones, the ensuing cutoff of the music from the speakers, finale of splashes, and round of applause for the show that peeled us apart. The same wild need burning me alive was shining in her steel-blues as a stunned kind of silence settled between us, and slowly, the growl of the city buzzed back into my consciousness.
She’d stolen away every sense when she returned my kiss like her life depended on it. Chest heaving, unable to stifle my smile, I breathed, “Hey, baby.”
Her response was an uncharacteristically tentative smile back, and breathy, “Need you,” and then she snatched my hand and was pulling me back toward our hotel. For the first time in our life, I felt no guilt watching the sway of her hips and pert, perfect ass.
It wasn’t until we were trapped in an elevator with a middle-aged Japanese man in a slick suit who kept nervously looking between us like the tension was palpable that I finally got my heart rate—and hard on—under control. I cleared my throat, giving him a curt smile and nod. All the while, I was fully aware the pull between us felt like electricity popping off in the air. Poor guy skirted out the doors the instant they opened, and El impatiently jabbed at the button to close them until they finally banged shut. Which, admittedly, felt pretty damn good, knowing she was just as desperate to get back to me as I was to her.
Even better when she turned, still looking stunned…and absolutely edible. In the next beat, she closed the distance, leaving the last few inches for me, like she was giving me space to change my mind.
Instead, I bent to grab her ass—and fuck me. She was perfect. Strong and round and just small enough for me to hoist into the air. El immediately complied, wrapping me in those shapely thighs and descending on my mouth with the same fervor from the fountain. I backed her into the mirrored wall as the elevator climbed, yellow fluorescents flickering softly as they buzzed. I was too busy to care. Tasting, teasing, tugging at those soft lips until her tongue slid into my mouth. She held me tight between her legs, like if she released me, I might vanish. I echoed the sentiment, palm in a desperate rush over every inch I could reach. The feel and flavor of her engraved themselves into my memory eternally. Along with her desperate, breathless voice.
“Broderick.”
I pulled back to study her, checking in and finding her just as taken as I was. Her flushed cheeks, swollen, parted pink lips, wide eyes, and dark, fluttering lashes all shot the last drops of blood from my body to my cock. Fucker was already painfully hard as I claimed her mouth again, one hand roaming while the other arm held her up. Her hands were everywhere, but as the elevator slowed, they came to my shirt, fumbling with the collar, and then the first button. Second. Third. All without breaking the kiss.
When the doors whooshed open, she made to disentangle. But I shook my head.
“Someone could see us,” she panted, and I grinned against her mouth as I carried her down the hallway.
“Don’t care,” I breathed back, earning a nervous laugh that I swallowed a beat later. Somehow, we managed our way down the hallway and into our room without setting her down. She had at least half my buttons out of the way when the door clicked behind us, the lock buzzing closed by the time we hit the bed.
