Always Only You (Bergman Brothers Book 2)

by Chloe Liese

  “Well, that’s a fair point. But it’s not a contact sport.”

  “Everything is a contact sport in the Bergman household.”

  I laugh. “It’s okay. I’ll be careful.”

  Ren wraps an arm around my shoulder and kisses my hair. My head rests on his shoulder in a way that I can see behind his back, where Oliver is stealthily creeping toward him. I’ve seen that stance. That’s an I’m-about-to-depants-a-guy stance.

  Shoving myself around Ren so that he’s shielded behind me, I lift my cane and point it at Oliver.

  Ren’s younger brother grins, frozen to the spot. “Foiled by Bellatrix. What’s she gonna do?”

  “I might be Slytherin,” I tell him. “But I’m no Death Eater.”

  Ryder glances between us. “What the hell is this? Did I just fall into a ninth circle of nerd hell?”

  Ren shoves him. “Lay off. She’s protecting me.”

  Oliver grins, feinting to the right. I arc my cane and yell, “Stupefy!”

  He freezes perfectly, mouth agape, mid-crouch.

  “That all you got?” Viggo calls.

  Lifting my cane higher, I touch the tip to Oliver’s chest. “Locomotor Mortis.”

  Trying not to smile, Oliver snaps up, legs locked together, and topples over onto the grass. A burst of applause sounds from the deck, where Ziggy and Dr. B, now Willa, Rooney, and Elin stand.

  “Woohoo, Frankie!” Willa hollers.

  Before I can respond, I’m tucked tight inside Ren’s arms, a soft kiss pressed to my cheek.

  “You saved me,” he whispers.

  I grin up at him and steal a kiss. “I did, didn’t I?”

  26

  Ren

  Playlist: “Close,” Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

  “What’s up with Frankie?” Andy asks. “She’s been extra moody this week. And I didn’t even see her leave tonight.” Yanking his jersey over his head, he throws it down, shaking sweat off like a wet dog. I sit on the bench and stare at my locker. Dazed.

  Come home hungry.

  That’s what her text says. The moment the buzzer went off and the game ended, with a narrow win on our part, Frankie dissolved into the flood of staff and personnel while some PR intern handled wrap-up and quick interviews, obviously covering for her. As soon as I could, I strode into the locker room and riffled through my bag until I found my phone. Because I knew she wouldn’t leave like that without an explanation.

  Come home hungry.

  I swallow nervously. There are a couple ways to interpret that message. One of which sends lust slamming through my system.

  A shove to the shoulder makes me glance up.

  Andy’s still there. “What’s that again?” I ask him dazedly.

  “I said—” He shoves me once more, and this time I shove him back, sending him stumbling into his locker. “What’s up with Frankie?”

  I pull off my helmet and drop it, dragging my fingers through my hair. “Stomach was bugging her again,” I lie off the cuff.

  “Well, at least it’s not that nasty shit Maddox brought around.”

  Maddox is out with bronchitis. After he hacked a lung around us all the past week at practice. Around Frankie. I fist my hands and try to exhale slowly. If she gets sick from his carelessness…

  Andy scrunches his nose. “It’s just weird. Frankie’s such a hard-ass. Sick or not, she’s always here. You think she’s okay?”

  Patting his arm, I give him a distracted smile. “I think she’ll be fine.”

  “Hey.” Kris walks up to me. “You seen Frankie? It’s weird without her.”

  Andy rolls his eyes. “Dude. He just said she’s got a stomachache. Listen, would you?”

  While those two devolve to bickering, I tune them out, strip quickly, and grab a towel. When I walk by and hear their ongoing conversation, I can’t help but think how right Kris is, how weird it is without her being here. How unprepared everyone will be, when we’re without her for good.

  As I step in the shower, water running over me, I feel the press of anxiety in my chest. Fear that I won’t always have her, tenuous hope that no matter where life takes her next, I’ll be by her side because we built something solid and long-lasting between us—

  There’s something solid and long-lasting between you two, all right.

  I glance down at my hard-on. There he is. Jutting straight out and miserably unfulfilled, which is pretty much how it’s been most of the past few weeks. Just thinking about Frankie makes me ache, always has. But recently, the torture’s been all the greater, with the time we’ve been spending together, surrounding me with her night air and orchid scent, feeling the silk of her hair brush my cheek when she nestles into me, wrapping my arms around her in bed and tucking her soft body against my hard one.

  Emphasis on hard.

  My cock twitches angrily at the memory of the way she arches into my touch when she comes, how her full backside nestles against me when she’s ready to fall asleep.

  Groaning, I slap the tiles and turn the water ice cold, shivering while I quickly wash myself. It works. I get my body under control but still my mind wanders to Frankie. Biting her lip while she thinks. Stepping inside my arms, letting me sway and kiss her. Tangled in bed, exploring, learning each other’s bodies through clothes and stolen touches beneath them.

  Snapping the towel off the hook and wrapping it around my waist, I wander over to my locker. No need to change in the shower area now that I know Frankie won’t be here.

  Yes, my modesty on that front was entirely for her. Because I held out hope that if I could avoid her seeing me and my dangly bits, I wouldn’t simply be one of the guys who couldn’t be bothered to cover himself up when she was milling around. Just like her body was and is still largely a mystery to me, I wanted mine to be a mystery to her, too.

  Come home hungry.

  It has to mean for more than late dinner. My stomach tightens with nerves. I pull out my phone, swipe it open, and type.

  Yes, ma’am.

  When I shut the front door, air rushes out of me. Frankie stands at the stove, wineglass in hand, swaying to music playing from her phone. A slow, sensual rhythm making the tiniest pair of pajama shorts flutter as she moves. A tissue-thin top drapes off her shoulder and her hair’s piled on top of her head, faint wisps of chocolate ribbons caressing her neck.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she smiles as she sets down her wine. “Welcome back.”

  I close the distance between us, slide my hands around her ribs and tug her against me. I kiss her, suck at her bottom lip, tease her tongue.

  “Ren,” she says breathlessly. “Everything okay?”

  Shaking my head, I kiss her neck, drag her lobe between my teeth, making her jolt, then melt in my arms. “I missed you,” I whisper.

  Her laugh is soft and breathy. “It’s been an hour.”

  I cup her face, angling it so I can kiss every point I want to. “No, it hasn’t,” I mutter. “It’s been years.”

  Frankie stills, tipping her head, and bringing a hand to my cheek. Her eyes search mine. “What’s wrong, Ren?” she asks quietly.

  I pull back enough to hold her gaze, my thumb sliding over her dimple. “Just something one of the guys said. It made me nervous. Sad.”

  “What is it?”

  “When you leave,” I whisper. “I’ll miss you.”

  Her face softens. “Oh, Ren. I’ll miss you, too. But…” Blinking away, she smooths back my hair. “I mean, assuming we’ll still be together. I’m hoping, that is—”

  I kiss her. “Frankie,” I whisper against her lips. “God, I’ll do anything…” There’s the truth, strong and steady as my heart beating inside my chest.

  I love you.

  I always have. I’ve loved her since the moment I saw her. Somehow, inexplicably, it’s true.

  I kiss her again, tangling tongues, holding her hips against mine, showing her how badly I need her. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” I say against her neck, dragging my tongue ove
r her collarbone.

  She sighs. “Me, too.” Her hands come to my tie, struggling with the knot. I yank it loose, then attack the buttons of my shirt. Frankie grabs my buckle, tugging it so hard, she loses her balance and nearly bumps into the stove. I catch her by the elbow and wrap an arm around her to keep her steady.

  “Shit,” she mutters, staring at the meal she was cooking.

  I reach past her, flicking off burners. “Later.”

  She nods, leaning up, kissing me, arms around my neck. I scoop her up and wrap her legs around my waist. “Does that hurt?” I ask against her mouth.

  “No,” she whispers, dropping her head, stretching her neck for me to kiss.

  I groan when she reaches between us and palms me over my suit pants. “You’re done?” I ask.

  She nods furiously. “Today. Thank God.”

  Setting her on the kitchen counter, I press her back, then kiss my way down her stomach. I shuck her shorts, dragging them off of her legs and tossing them aside.

  “What are you—Oh, God,” she gasps, her arms dropping softly onto the cold granite.

  “You said come home hungry.” I kiss her stomach, swirl my tongue lower and lower. “And I’m more than happy to follow orders.”

  My hands part her, as finally, finally I see her close, breathe her in. Velvet soft skin, dark curls that I run my fingers through. Exploring the delicate skin of her stomach, I reach further and cup her breast. “Look at you. Perfect.”

  She arches into my touch as I tease her nipple and press slow, wet open-mouthed kisses on the inside of her thigh. “Ren, you don’t have to—”

  “Don’t bother finishing that sentence, Frankie. I’ll die if I don’t do this.”

  She laughs breathily. “So dramatic—” A gasp leaps out of her as I bend and sweep my tongue where she’s warm and wet, decadently soft. My thumb teases her clit with faint, featherlight touches, while I taste her and spear her with my tongue.

  Faint, steady cries leave her. Her fingers delve into my hair, but there’s no tug, no push, no direction. She’s hesitating.

  “Are you holding back on me, Francesca?”

  Breath rushes out of her. “N-no.”

  “You’re taking what you want?”

  She nods, but it’s slow. Tentative.

  I yank her hips to the edge of the counter, cupping her bottom as I drop to my knees and swing each of her legs over my shoulders. “No, you’re not.”

  Frankie cries out, a broken sob as I lock my mouth over her and take her with my tongue. One finger curled deep inside her, where she’s softer, tender, so impossibly wet. Then two. I want her ready. I don’t want it to hurt when I’m inside her. I only want pleasure for Frankie, no more pain. No more than she already has in her life.

  She’s sweet as honey, warm silk. I nuzzle, nibble, and finally lower my lips to her tiny, swollen clit, and gently suck—

  “Yes!” she slaps the counter, canting her hips up into my face.

  I pull back long enough to bite her thigh tenderly, chasing it with a kiss. “Tell me what you want.”

  “I—” She cries out again as I flick her clit with my finger. “I want it harder. Rough.”

  “You want to fuck my face.”

  “Jesus,” she moans. “You would be the unexpected king of dirty talk.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want to fuck your face!” she yells.

  Grinning up at her, I lower my mouth, so my breath whispers over where she’s glistening wet and flushed. “Then do it.”

  When I tongue her again, hold her close, she grinds up, wild, reckless, riding my mouth, fisting my hair, guiding me until she explodes on a hoarse scream.

  Her thighs tighten around my shoulders. She cries out again, and this time a rough sob follows. Soft, pulsing waves against my lips. A rush of sweet release hits my tongue and I groan, palming myself reflexively. I almost come from just tasting her.

  She’s panting, wracked with shivers as I stand, then sweep her into my arms and stroll down the hallway. Once in the bedroom, I slowly lower her down my body, clenching my teeth when she slides against my groin.

  Frankie stares up at me, her hands resting on my chest. Time slows, the only sounds the distant roar of the ocean, the steady rhythm of our breaths. Carefully, she runs her fingers beneath my suit jacket and slips it off. Tugging it off my arms, she tosses it on the nearby chair. I stare at her as I yank off my tie and make quick work of the rest of my buttons. Frankie rushes me, shoving off the fabric, tugging at my undershirt.

  When I’m shirtless, she presses a hot kiss to my chest, scrapes her teeth over my nipple.

  “God.” I fist her hair, holding her close.

  Frankie pushes away and I tackle her shirt, dragging it over her head. A moan tears out of my chest as I see her. So beautiful. More breathtaking than I could have ever imagined. I stare down at her as my heart pounds. Soft breasts, her nipples taut. Long muscles, a maddening slope to her hips. Golden skin. I run my hands up and down her waist and sigh. She’s so soft.

  “You’re beautiful, Frankie. So impossibly beautiful.”

  She smiles and presses up on tiptoes, giving me a long, slow kiss. “Take off your clothes,” she whispers, her hand dropping to my buckle again. “I want to see you.”

  I shuck my pants and boxer briefs, sweep her up again and carry her to the bed. After laying her down, carefully, I stand over her.

  She bites her lip as her eyes trail my body. “Søren. You are magnificent.”

  Her thighs rub together as she stares at me. I pull her legs apart and fist myself, a long tug of my cock that draws a rough groan from me as I stare at her. A fierce, primal force drives me to touch myself while I look at the most intimate part of her.

  “This is what you do to me, Frankie. You’ve done it for years. Made me so hard, I ache.”

  “Well, that sounds fair,” she says dazedly. She stares at my length as I pump it, her eyes wide, lips parted. “Seeing as I’ve been nothing but despicably wet around you for too damn long. Do you know how uncomfortable drenched panties are, Ren?”

  A growl rolls out of me. Dropping over her, I slip an arm under her back, and drag her up the bed with me, settling between her thighs. “Confession.”

  Her hands slide up my arms and cradle my head. “I’m listening.”

  “I’m terrified this is going to be a disaster.”

  She laughs and kisses me. “That’s impossible. It’s you and me. We’ll talk. Show each other what we need.”

  I bend, kiss her, lost for words. My heart thunders in my chest, anxiety pinching my shoulders. As if she intuits that, Frankie’s hands glide along my back and gently massage my shoulders.

  “Look at me,” she whispers. She smooths my hair off my face and smiles up at me. “Trust me?”

  I nod.

  “Good. I trust you, too.”

  Frankie and I have talked about birth control. Clean bills of health. How we both really want nothing between us. Meaning there’s nothing stopping us from finally being connected as close as two people physically can be.

  Taking each of her hands in mine, I drag them up over her head. It sends her breasts high, shows the curve of her ribs, the hollow between her hips that’s ready for me. I rest myself against her, holding her eyes.

  Slowly, robbed of breath, I ease inside her, just a few inches, and stop. Frankie pants for air, her eyes scrunched shut. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known. Warm, tight, intricately smooth yet somehow not.

  “Are you all right?” I whisper.

  She nods furiously. Then shakes her head. “You’re huge. It’s like a Mack truck trying to take a back alley.”

  I laugh into her neck. “I’m sorry. I’ll go slow. I want to make it good for you,” I whisper.

  She kisses me gently. “I’m not worried about that,” she whispers back.

  “Good. That makes one of us.”

  A laugh bursts out of her, and I have to clench my jaw because of how it makes her body flex
around mine. “Just give me like…five hours to get adjusted,” she mutters.

  “I’ll be lucky if I last five minutes, Frankie.”

  “Go slow while you can, okay?” she whispers. “It’s better that way. Gentler. Like this.”

  At her cue, I loosen my grip and free her hands. Gripping my backside, she guides me with her as she leans her hips back, then rocks up. Air rushes out of me.

  “God, you feel incredible.” I set my mouth over hers, kissing, tasting, sharing breath as I follow her rhythm and my body’s instinct. I pull away and moan helplessly as I ease in again.

  Holding my weight on my elbows on either side of her face, I kiss her neck, her jaw, her lips, finally sinking so far inside her, I feel where I can’t go any farther.

  Frankie gasps. I pull back reflexively, but she stops me, panting for air. “It’s okay. Don’t stop, okay?”

  My body’s begging to thrust and pound and take. It’s too harsh, too much. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “You won’t,” she says gently, her hands drifting to my backside again, guiding me, pulling me to her. “I promise you won’t.”

  Waves of muscles tighten around my cock. A sigh falls out of me as I draw back, then press into her, sure and slow. I feel sparks soar up my legs, a fierce need to move guiding me.

  “Again,” she whispers. “Again.”

  Our moans echo in each other’s mouths as I thrust into her, as Frankie hugs me tight. Her hips roll in rhythm with mine, first slow, then urgently. Faster.

  “Faster, Ren,” she rasps. “Faster.”

  The last thread of my hesitation snaps, unleashing a torrent of need. I find her clit with my thumb and circle it steadily in time with each drive into her. Fast. Deliberate. The slap of skin on skin, the quiet rhythm of her cries. More waves, fluttering and faint, teasing spasms along my length as our bodies move together.

  I’m so close already, I have to stop. One more stroke, and I’ll be done for. Seating myself inside her, I kiss Frankie’s breasts, suck her nipples roughly. My body trembles as I hold back.