Until You're Mine (Fighting for Her)

by Cindi Madsen

  I leaned down and kissed her, a quick peck on the lips. “Good night, baby.”

  She wadded a fistful of my shirt in her hand, holding me close. “No. We sex now.”

  Images of stripping her down and pinning her underneath me flashed through my head, a dirty image reel that I worked to tamp down. Her eyes were already drifting shut again. “I’ll wake you up tomorrow morning with my head between your thighs. How does that sound?”

  More indecipherable words, but I was pretty sure there was an agreement in there somewhere—I just wasn’t the type of guy who’d settle for less than an actual agreement from a fully conscious female.

  I pulled the covers up over her and headed into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and eyed the shower, thinking I might need a long cold one. I took a few moments to collect myself—if I couldn’t calm down, I’d force myself to sleep on the couch, even though I hated to let an opportunity to sleep next to Brooklyn slip away.

  As I was reaching for the doorknob, the door swung open. Brooklyn stood there, hair mussed, wearing nothing but one of my T-shirts. A white one, so worn, that I could make out her puckered nipples under the fabric.

  She closed the door behind her, leaning against it like I’d try to escape otherwise. “I started thinking about you, and all the naughty things I’d like you to do to my body, and suddenly I was very, very awake.”

  Every nerve ending jolted to life, my control unraveling at her feet the instant she stepped into the room. “You better describe these naughty things to me, preferably in excruciating detail, so I can make them all come true.”

  “Coming was definitely involved.”

  Heat replaced the blood in my veins, and my arms ached to pull her closer and get started on that, but I wanted to draw out the game for a little while. To tease her until she was on the verge and begging for it. “Where were my hands?”

  She padded toward me, and I forgot how to swallow as she curled her hand in the waistband of my pants, and yanked me closer. “First things first, you had a lot less clothes on.” Her fingers moved to the hem of my shirt, and when she rose onto her toes to get it over my head, I assisted her by gripping the back of the collar and tugging it off.

  The movement made her stumble into me, her luscious curves pressing against me and turning me on even more. She gasped, and I slanted my mouth over hers, taking a taste. Her hands flattened against my chest and dragged down, down, down…

  She flicked the button on my pants then torturously slowly unzipped them.

  I groaned as I sprang free, and she bent and tugged off my pants. On her way back up she dragged her hands along my thighs, like she was frisking me, and I grew even harder as her fingers brushed my balls. At my grunt, she looked up and raised an eyebrow.

  Then she gripped me over my boxer briefs, a vixen smile on her lips. I arched into her touch, my vision blurring for a moment.

  “Getting kind of restless here, bruiser. Either you tell me where my hands were during all the naughtiness, or I’ll take creative license.”

  “Well, they started on my ass.”

  “Sounds like me.” I reached around and cupped her ass, drawing her heat up against my raging erection. Her breathing went jagged, spurring me on even more.

  “Then they moved up…”

  I slid them under the T-shirt, across her smooth skin, and when the fabric lifted enough to confirm she didn’t have any underwear on, I swore. The grip on my control wavered, and I had to wrestle my inner beast to get it back. “Let me guess, baby. Did they go somewhere around”—I squeezed her perfect breasts in both hands—“here?”

  I flicked her nipples with my thumbs and her eyelids fluttered, her mouth dropping open for the taking. I plunged my tongue inside as I backed her up against the sink. I curled my hands around the backs of her thighs and lifted her onto the porcelain.

  My eyes met hers, and the desire swimming in the blue made me want to leave her as undone as I was. “Was my mouth on you? When you were coming?”

  Her chest rose and fell, then she nodded.

  “Spread your legs,” I commanded, and she opened them for me.

  I pushed my T-shirt up her thighs, exposing her to me, and then I dipped my head and licked up her thigh. She whimpered when I stopped just short of where she wanted my tongue.

  “If you’re having trouble figuring out where exactly your mouth was,” she said as she raked her fingers through my hair, “I can go into more detail.”

  “I guess you’re going to have to.”

  “It was…” Her cheeks colored. I encouraged her with a languid lick on the other thigh. “A little higher.” I moved to the spot where her leg met her torso. “More to the right. You were licking and sucking and it was driving me—”

  I dragged my tongue up her center, and she moaned.

  “Crazy,” she breathed. “You drive me crazy.”

  “Keep sweet talking me like that, and I might just fall for you.”

  Unlike earlier, when the L-word was mentioned, she smiled down at me, and without her uttering another word, I went ahead and fell for her anyway.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Brooklyn

  My fantasies didn’t touch the reality of having Shane drive me to the edge, only to bring me right back down, a torturous rollercoaster that I’d line up for time and time again.

  “Are you ready to beg for your release yet?” His deep voice vibrated across my skin and traveled down to my core, leaving me that much closer.

  “I don’t beg,” I said, hoping the poutiness in my voice would be enough to convince him how much I needed it.

  “Hmm.” More vibrations, more toe-curling torture. “That’s a problem, because just this once, I’d like to hear you beg for it.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I said, the words coming out shaky. “You want me begging for it all the time.”

  A slow grin curved his lips. “Guilty.” He added the drag of his fingers, so close to where I wanted the friction, yet so far away. “It’s not a competition, Brooklyn. No losers, just winners. You admit that you need me, and I’ll admit that I need you.”

  The tip of his tongue hit my clit, feather light, and if I hadn’t been gripping the sink, I would’ve melted right to the floor. “While you’re at it, go ahead and admit that you’re mine.”

  My head dropped back against the mirror, a shiver of need wracking my body. “I know I said you drive me crazy, but this is a new form of insane.”

  He arched his eyebrows as he waited for me to submit, so freaking arrogant, and in this case, rightfully so. Later I’d wipe the smirk off his face, but right now, he had me right where he wanted me, and I wanted me there, too.

  I grabbed a fistful of his hair, tipped his head back, and met his gaze. “Please, Shane. I’m all yours, and I need you to finish me off so I can start torturing you.”

  “Begging and motivation, all in one.” His whiskered jaw scraped the inside of my thigh. “Was that so hard?”

  Yes, but now that it was out, I didn’t feel like I’d lost. There was something freeing about admitting that I needed him. I’d worry about how badly afterward, when every part of me wasn’t throbbing and aching.

  He increased the pressure of his tongue, and as I reached the peak, he sucked me into his mouth. For a moment, I hung suspended on the brink, then I was free-falling, crying out his name as I let go and plunged into the waiting euphoria.

  Shane stood and pulled me close to his chest. Then he reached behind me and took a condom out of his medicine cabinet.

  My limbs slowly regained the ability to move, and I wrapped my hand around the back of Shane’s neck and brought his mouth down over mine. “I hope you know that payback’s going to be a bitch.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  I scooted to the edge of the sink and then dragged my body down his, and while I’d meant to torture him, it made me long for the moment he’d be deep inside me, reaching places only he could.

  Which left me one way to exa
ct my revenge.

  I dropped to my knees, and for the first time ever, I saw what Shane looked like when he was utterly stunned. I pulled down his briefs, gripped the base of his shaft, and sucked him deep into my mouth. He made a low noise in the back of his throat. I withdrew a few inches, not quite all the way, and swirled my tongue over him.

  Then I moved my lips and kissed his thigh, one and then the other. Several places on his cut abs. The line of obliques leading to his hard length got a kiss, followed by a languid lick of my tongue that made them stand out even more.

  “I’m not above begging,” he said, cupping my chin and tilting my head up. “Brooklyn, you own me, every single part of me. I’m all yours, and I need you so fucking bad I can hardly stand it.”

  I noticed he didn’t say please, but I sucked him into my mouth again, enjoying the way his muscles tensed and his fingers tunneled into my hair. Enjoying this more than I ever had before. I wanted to make him feel as amazing as he’d made me feel.

  A strangled noise came out of him and then his large hand circled my arm, and he pulled me to my feet. “I need to be inside you. Now.” He yanked off the T-shirt I had on and then spun me in his arms so that both of us were facing the mirror. I heard the crinkle of foil and then he pushed into me.

  I bent forward, needing the support of the sink. Shane’s arm came around me, and he hauled me up against him, taking over the job of holding me up.

  “Do you see how sexy you are?” He thrust deeper, and the hooded lids of the girl in the mirror met mine. She looked sexy, uninhibited, and on the verge of the mind-blowing orgasm I felt building. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

  Shane ran his thumb over my lower lip, and I bit it. He growled and pumped harder and faster, and I came undone again, his name falling from my lips. His release followed right after mine, and for a minute or so, we stayed like that. Connected in the most intense way, our ragged breaths filling the air, our mirror selves looking back at us like they couldn’t believe how incredible it’d been, either.

  We cleaned up, then Shane picked up the T-shirt I’d borrowed from the floor and slipped it over my head. “I like you wearing my shirt.” He wadded it in his hand and tugged me closer. “I like you being in my house, in my bed, in my arms, pressed against me or underneath me.

  “But most of all…” He lowered his lips to mine and swept his tongue inside my mouth, imprinting his kiss on my very soul before dropping his forehead to mine. “I like you being mine.”

  My heart expanded against my rib cage. After things went bad with Conrad, I’d sworn to avoid possessive guys, but there was something about the way Shane said it, more like a relief and a promise than a threat.

  I basked in being his. Like he said, we fit perfectly together, a way I’d never fit with anyone else.

  And since we’d decided to let ourselves go ahead and want things, I sank farther into his embrace and grabbed hold of the way he’d told me that he was all mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Shane

  Sunlight streamed into the room, making me wish I’d closed the blinds. The warm body next to me snuggled closer, and a smile stretched my lips. Last night Brooklyn and I had talked until my eyelids refused to stay open, and drifting off with her in my arms was something I wanted to repeat every single night.

  So I wouldn’t dwell on things I couldn’t have, I rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of boxers. My stomach growled like I hadn’t had food in days, and I headed to the kitchen in search of breakfast.

  Protein with a side of protein was the norm, but instead of getting my fill through a shake today, I grabbed the eggs and bacon.

  Within a few minutes of placing the strips on the grill, Brooklyn came out of the bedroom. She still wore my T-shirt, and as I drank in her bare legs and curves, I had the same thought as last night. Mine.

  She was mine, and I didn’t want it to be just for now.

  “You cook?” Brooklyn wrapped her arms around me and leaned her head on the center of my back. “Wow, I really struck gold with you.”

  No one besides my mom ever seemed to think they were lucky I was in their life, and for a lot of years, I did a good job of pushing everyone away. The urge to do so now rose, edged with panic, but it was too late. Brooklyn had already broken through, and I’d never be the same. I only hoped I wouldn’t regret it.

  I flipped the bacon, set the spatula aside, and turned to face her. “Morning.”

  “Can all mornings be like this? Normally I’m in such a rush to get out the door that I don’t take the time for breakfast.” She wrapped her arms tighter around me, squeezing until she got a grunt. “Or for cuddling.”

  “I think you’ve confused cuddling with strangling.”

  “Uh-oh. Did I forget to warn you that I like it rough?”

  My laugh came out sputtered, and I dipped my head for a kiss. Splatters of hot grease hit me, and I moved Brooklyn off to the side to tend to breakfast. A few minutes later, we were seated on my couch, our plates loaded with food.

  I nudged her. “So, when am I going to see your paintings?”

  She shrugged.

  “How about today?”

  She wrinkled her adorable nose. “I don’t know. Most of my finished stuff is up north.”

  My gut dropped at the mention of the place where so much of her life was. I pushed it aside and focused on the here and now. “I’m fine with works in progress.”

  “Good, because I’m totally a work in progress.”

  I ignored her self-deprecating joke and trailed my fingers across her knee. “I’m going to see them eventually, you know.”

  “Not if I distract you and make you forget about it.” She pointed her fork at the window. “Look, a squirrel!”

  The blinds were closed and I’d never once seen a squirrel around my apartment complex, and to show her I wouldn’t be deterred, I kept steadily staring at her. “Not sure if I should break this to you or not, but the whole point of getting galleries to stock your work is so people see it.”

  “Right. People. Not you.”

  I frowned, trying not to take that personally.

  She placed her hand on my arm. “I mean that I don’t care about what they think—well, that’s a lie, but I don’t care as much as what you think. Let’s just say most people in your line of work aren’t impressed. My dad thinks it’s a waste-of-time hobby, and my brothers have to say it’s good, so…”

  I folded her hand in mine. “I already know I’ll love it. And I wanna see what makes you tick.”

  “Caffeine, mostly. You don’t happen to have a secret stockpile of Mountain Dew, do you?”

  I sighed, nice and loud. “I’m not going to drop it. I want to see your work.” I dragged my thumb over her knuckles. “You can trust me.” You can let me in.

  “All right. I’ll try to sneak you in once I’m sure the coast is clear. I think Finn’s going surfing this afternoon.”

  I set my empty plate on the coffee table. “You’re saying we’ve got some time to kill? Whatever are we going to do?”

  “I think you’ve got very selective hearing.”

  I kissed her neck and glided my hand up her thigh. Then I reached over her for the remote. I clicked on the TV, and when she set her plate down, I pulled her closer. Later, we’d get to more naked time, but for right now, I was perfectly content with holding her and watching mindless TV.

  Within five minutes, my mind was spinning about the future again, and I told myself that maybe we could find a way to make this work full-time. There were galleries here, her family was here, and most importantly I was here.

  I had less than a month to convince her to stay, and in between all my intense training, I planned to do exactly that.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Brooklyn

  My heart beat too fast and my palms dampened. It’d been a while since I’d been so nervous to show my artwork to anyone.

  Confidence in that area had always been a struggle for me, but the
more I worked on my art, and the more praise I received, the more emboldened I’d become. The medium I used wasn’t conventional, and that made me stand out. In a good way, mostly. Occasionally people shamed me for tearing up books, but I picked most of them out of piles that’d been on their way to the trashcan, and since I wanted the words to reflect the mood of my paintings, I read at least parts of each one before using it.

  I spun around in front of the closed bedroom door to the room I was staying in, facing Shane and barring the way. I’d claimed most of my paintings were up north, and that was true, but between hoping for a spot in the Golden City Art Exhibition, being paranoid as hell, and having trouble letting them go, my three favorite pieces traveled with me. The other painting inside was my work-in-progress, one I’d started about the same time I’d also started falling for the guy eyeing me like I was straight-up crazypants.

  “It’s true that I have a lot of the same qualities as Superman,” Shane said, “but I can’t actually see through walls. You’re going to have to open that door.”

  “One, I don’t have to do anything, and two…I…well, I thought two would come to me once I started the sentence, but I got nothing.”

  “Baby.” He took my hand and intertwined our fingers. “I think you’re amazing, and I know that what you do is going to be amazing. Just have a pinch of faith, and I’ll show you I deserve it.”

  All day this guy had been doing this to me. Saying sweet things that made me think…things I shouldn’t be thinking. Hope called to me, promising this time it’d be nicer; that this time, it wouldn’t drop me on my ass, a broken heart filled with distrust for my troubles.

  I expelled a long breath then pushed inside the room. While I faked my way through organization skills at work, in my comfy space, things were constantly in disarray. My room looked like a tornado had recently come through, and I spent a ridiculous amount of time searching for things I could never find, whether it was a certain pair of jeans or shoes or that necklace that never had turned up, come to think of it. “Obviously I didn’t know you’d be coming, or I would’ve attempted to straighten up.”