Page 91 of The Goat Next Door

His hand settles against my waist again, solid and warm. “You talk too much,” he says.

“And you apparently have a whole secret life as some kind of dirty-talking lumberjack.”

That finally pulls a real laugh out of him. “Lumberjack?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m literally the fire chief.”

“Worse,” I say. “Authority issues.”

Brooks shakes his head slowly like I’m impossible, but there’s something darker settling into his expression now.

“You know,” he says, voice dropping lower, “most people have the good sense not to mouth off to the guy currently holding all the leverage. You really don’t know when to quit, do you?”

My stomach flips.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “You’ve been secretly insane this whole time.”

“Nope.” His thumb traces once against my hip. “Mostly just patient. But you keep pushing, kept baiting me at the bakery… you have to know that just makes me want to see how far I can make you go.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault now?”

He hums, a vibration that travels through the sofa. “I’m not complaining. I actually love it when you fight back. Keeps things interesting.”

“That is somehow hotter and more alarming than I want it to be.”

“I know.”

I can’t stand the distance, the sudden lack of his weight pinning me down. I shift, arching my back and hitching my hips upward. I nudge closer, desperate for him to bridge the gap.

He exhales sharply through his nose when I arch against him, his eyes closing briefly like he needs a second to recover. But he doesn’t move to touch me; he just tilts his head, his smile widening as he surveys my impatience.

“I’m still waiting, Ember. I didn’t hear the apology.”

“Really? That’s how you’re going to be? You’re going to make me play this game?” I groan, closing my eyes. “Fine. I’m—I’m sorry. I’m sorry, okay? You’re not a prick.”

He doesn’t move. He just looks down at me, his expression unreadable. “Hmm? What was that? I didn’t hear you.”

He really is a prick.

“I said I’m sorry!” I narrow my eyes at him.

He leans down, a grin breaking through, and dives back between my legs. “Knew you could do it.”

His breathing sounds heavier now, less controlled, and his gaze drags slowly over me like the sight alone is getting to him.

He pauses for a second, looking at me. “Still okay?”

I nod immediately, breathless.

He reaches up, his thumb brushing a stray curl from my temple, his touch lingering in a way that feels almost hesitant, as if he’s trying to ground himself just as much as he’s grounding me.

He slides his fingers back in and locks his tongue onto my clit with a sudden, relentless precision that forces a loud, strangled cry from my throat. He pumps his fingers inside me, hard and deep, matching the fast, wet friction of his tongue.

“Say it, Emmy. Keep saying it.”

He doesn’t slow down.