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Then for whatever reason, she made up her mind. She threw one leg over him and settled down on his body, straddling him.
He cupped the back of her legs, slid his hands up and under the frayed edges of her shorts until he met her curvy ass cheeks. Then he filled his hands with them and squeezed.
Brooke moaned like his touch was the most amazing sensation in the world. If it wasn’t for her panties, his hands would feel even better. They needed to do something about those panties.
But first…
“Be sure, Brooke,” he rasped out as she slid her hands under his shirt and found his abs. Fuck, he wanted those hands wrapped around his dick. “Be fucking sure because if we start this, I’m not gonna be satisfied fingering you off and leaving with a hard-as-fuck dick. Not tonight.”
Her smile was slightly shy as she whispered, “You didn’t have to the other night.”
“Gotta be a gentleman once in my life,” he said with a wink.
Her laughter was music to his ears. She scraped her thumbnails over his nipples, and he grunted. When the hell had that ever felt good? Damn, this woman just did it for him. She could probably get him off by sucking his finger.
“I’m sure,” she whispered as she leaned down until her lips were a breath away from his. “I’m sure I want you to take me into my bedroom and fuck me.”
Fucking hell. He tightened his grip on her ass, swung his legs over the side, then stood in a smooth series of moves that had her clinging to him. The second those ankles of hers crossed behind his back, he took her mouth in a searing kiss that left them both breathless and panting.
This was a foolish idea that would only deepen the tie between them then end in disaster at some point, but right then and there, nothing short of the end of the world could have kept him from having her.
“Point me toward your room,” he said against her mouth. “And I hope to hell you’re ready for the fucking ride of of lifetime.”
He’d deal with the consequences later. It was how he’d lived most of his life.
And when had that ever worked out for him?
CHAPTER TWENTY
WAS SHE READY? Was she sure?
The only thing she was sure of was that she’d lost her damn mind. Spending such a chill day with Curly had done something to her. Unlocked a long-buried well of yearning she couldn’t ignore. The pull to him had intensified throughout the day, not only the physical desire to be close to Curly, but a cerebral desire as well. She wanted to know what went on in his head. To understand him. To learn all there was to discover about the gruff man who’d hadn’t lived an easy life.
As luck would have it, he’d given her a wide glimpse into his psyche today. Into the man beneath the sexy muscles, commanding presence, and fearsome scowl. To the wounded soul searching for his place in a world that had turned its back on him. A world in which he didn’t quite fit. Not now and maybe not ever. She could only imagine how much tougher it must be for him to find his footing following betrayal, years of wrongful incarceration, and the loss of his club family. Despite its faults, his MC had been the one thing that made sense before everything went to shit.
No wonder he wanted that part of his life back.
Brooke knew what it was to exist in a universe where she didn’t belong. Her ex-husband’s world had been a dark, lonely, abusive place disguised by the glitz and glamor of high-society money and backstabbing friendships. For years, she’d tried to mold herself, to force herself into the rigid slot her husband had carved for her, and she’d failed spectacularly. Because, like Curly, she couldn’t live while suppressing her true identity. Wearing designer dresses every day when she preferred to live in jeans, styling her hair to fit her husband’s desired image of her, attending gossipy brunches with women she despised because they needed to be seen in certain circles, never owning a pet because it had the potential to dirty the house. That life had nearly destroyed her.
She wasn’t a woman who could thrive in a man’s shadow.
She wasn’t someone who could keep her mouth shut when she saw something she disapproved of.
She wasn’t a woman who took orders without question.
And she sure as hell wasn’t some trophy to be stored on a shelf, polished, and shown off at will.
No, she was a woman who spoke her mind, fought for what was important to her, and took what she wanted.
Tonight, she wanted Curly.
Even if she shouldn’t. Even if no one from her husband’s world would ever understand the appeal of a man like him.
