Page 128 of Accidental Attachment


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The door finally opens with a rattle and a pop, the plastic screen separating from the solid frame just enough that I have to fight the complication of the two behind Brooke’s back until they finally stick together again.

I pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist to climb inside, Benji fighting for his life in a tangle of our feet, and I pull the door slammed behind us and walk her straight to the bedroom.

Swept up in the chaos, Benji stays close as I drop Brooke to her back on the bed and climb on top of her, hiking the sweet slit of her silk dress even higher on her thigh and skating my hand against the newly revealed warm skin.

Benji groans a little, retreating out the door to a place, I can only assume, that won’t scar him quite so much. Still, I don’t want him to leave if Brooke should have him here for her safety.

I pull back slightly, as much as I don’t want to, and ask her about it. “Benji…do you need him to…”

She snorts. “There’s no way my blood pressure is dropping right now. I’ll be fine.”

With the way my own blood is pumping at this point, I understand her confidence.

“Okay, if you’re sure. If you need him to—”

“Chase,” she cuts me off, gripping my jaw tightly and pulling my face to hers again, the weight of my hard chest pushing into her soft one. “I appreciate the concern, truly. But please, please, please, shut up and kiss me.”

A clear request, not to be denied.

My smile is obvious against her lips as I take them in the kind of kiss that would melt the paint off the walls if this weren’t a cheaply wallpapered motor home. It’s intense and deep, and I can feel the want in every shift of her hips as my tongue dances along the edges of hers.

Her body feels so fucking perfect, I can hardly stand it. We’ve been waiting so long, fighting this so hard, that to finally be at the inevitable stage of completion almost feels like a fever dream. If I’m not careful, I’m going to miss it.

I mean, I’m here, and I’m feeling, but if I let it, the adrenaline of my excitement could very well make the details hazy. And I want to remember every single second.

I want this to be a core memory that I remember for the rest of life and afterlife and a million afterlives after that.

Slowing down, I pull back and sit up, sliding a tortured hand from Brooke’s neck to her collarbone and then down through the drapey fabric at her chest. Up and down with the motion of her ribs, her breathing comes in heaves.

“Shh,” I soothe, running my hand down her belly and around her hip and over the split fabric at her thigh.

Brooke’s eyes are wild, wide and restless, and rapidly becoming sick of my shit. I shake my head with a smile. “Relax. I want to take my time.”

“Oh really? Because time sounds like a terrible idea. Alexander Graham Bell should be fired.”

“What’s he got to do with this?” I ask on a near snort, my dick jumping in my pants at the sound it fell in love with—Brooke Baker being funny.

“I’ll tell you! Alexander invented the phone, and the phone is full of numbers, and time is numbers. And since his name is the only one I can remember right now while all the blood in my body is partying down south, the very loose connection between the two makes him at fault. Period.”

“I see,” I say with a nod, gently moving the fabric of Brooke’s dress into a bunch in order to slide it up her legs.

She looks down at me with a scowl, and I can’t help it, my grin grows.

She’s just so fucking cute without even knowing it.

As I scoot her back with a thrust, she squeals and throws up a hand behind her head as I push her into the pillows. Quickly and with ease, I slide my hands under the fabric at her hips and lift, forcing her dress up around her waist and exposing her pretty lace panties completely.

“I thought you wanted to go slow.”

“Sometimes slow is fast, and sometimes fast is slow,” I tell her through a smirk, dropping onto my stomach until I’m at the perfect angle to put my lips on her.

“Okay, Lightning McQueen,” she teases on a scoff. “Whatever you say.”

Without hesitation, I rip the delicate fabric in two and pull it apart until I’m left only with bare skin. She’s completely waxed—something I didn’t imagine I would find on Brooke. I don’t care either way, but from everything I’ve learned about her, she never struck me as the type.

She laughs then, explaining the answers to my thoughts without even knowing it. “I’m going to have to give Helga at Body Sensations a big kiss for talking me into adding the Brazilian on to my eyebrow and partial wax.”

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