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How was I supposed to refuse an offer like that? I was about to work on a fucking tank. “All right. I’m in.”
We spent the next few hours going through what they’d already done and figuring out what next steps were. When Brooke texted Paige to remind her it was her turn to make dinner, we had a good idea of where we were going next.
“You should stay for dinner,” Bryan said as we headed toward the house.
I wished I could. Was that crossing a line? “I’m working at Deacon's tonight. I need to get back.”
Both teenagers frowned. “Okay, but come back tomorrow.”
The next few days went a lot the same—I’d stop by with lunch, spend time talking to Brooke, then go help Paige and Bryan in the barn after school. Wednesday, Brooke’s feet were in my lap instead of a pile of cushions between us, and by Friday, I was sitting behind her, propping her up, tempted to pull her into my lap.
Fuck it.
I gripped her chin to tilt her face to mine, and brushed my lips over hers. The air sparked between us, ignited by her gasp fading to a sigh.
She twisted her body, turning toward me and kneeling without breaking the kiss.
This was soothing chaos—calming my soul but making my pulse race—and I needed more. I slid my hand to the back of her neck, gripping tight and holding her captive. Licking along the seam of her lips then thrusting my tongue into her mouth. Swallowing her moans. Devouring her.
It was tempting to completely let go of my restraint and push into things hard and fast, but there was pain for pleasure and then there was re-injuring her ankle so she was stuck like this even longer. I didn’t want any version of the second option.
Brooke traced along my chest, teasing with a light touch as she outlined each contour she came to.
Dude. Deacon’s voice barked in my thoughts, jarring me out of the moment. As I leaned back, reality rushed in around us, putting up an invisible barrier.
“What’s wrong?” Brooke asked.
I was hard as a rock, I wanted desperately to pin her on her back and fuck her until she screamed with pleasure, and I had a two second loop of Deacon interrupting stuck in my mind. “I can’t.”
“Can’t what? Kiss me? You were doing an incredible job.” Hurt slid into Brooke’s voice.
“I just… Deacon—”
“Isn’t here. He has nothing to do with this.”
But didn’t he? Something told me that wasn’t the right thing to ask.
Brooke scowled and scooted away. “He’s made it crystal clear how he sees his relationship with both of us. I was neverwithhim and supposedly neither were you. Anything that happens between you and me should be between you and me.”
On the one hand she had a good point, but…
“Or is this bros before hoes?” Brooke spat out the question.
“No.” At least I knew that answer. “That’s not… You’re not…No.”
She scrubbed her face. “I think you should go.”
“Because I won’t make out with you?” Stupid, Adam. Stupid. Stupid.
Brooke growled. “Because our invisible friend’s presence is apparently more potent than whatever we were just doing.”
If I took it back, I could stay. We could talk. More.
And I’d feel guilty. “I’ll be back tomorrow with lunch.”
“No. It’s Saturday. I’ve got things covered. You don’t need to come back next week, either.”
“Right.” I walked out of the farmhouse. The conversation played on repeat in my mind the whole drive back to Deacon’s, but I wasn’t any closer to knowing what the right choice was when I arrived.
