Make You Mine (Nixon Brooks Book 1)

by Tess Keeler

  “Good, because I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Her fingertips met her most private places, rubbing slowly. “And I’m so wet.” Her other hand moved to wrap around her breast, massaging herself for my viewing pleasure.

  “Fuck, Harper… You’re killing me,” I groaned, trying to stay as quiet as possible. I knew my breathing was getting shorter— I could feel it. Just like I could feel myself filling and rising against the soft bottom material of my blue pajama pants.

  “Join me,” she breathed, her full lips parted and her eyelids heavy as she circled the trigger for her pleasure.

  She was the first person I had ever entertained the idea of video sex, sexting, or anything to that nature. I trusted her, and she trusted me.

  Scooting back, I got comfortable and moved so she could see as much of me as I could see of her. I could feel the muscles in my lower stomach flexing as I pulled myself free. With quick lubrication of my hand, I wrapped my hand around myself and sucked in a sharp breath— all the while, my eyes never leaving hers.

  I groaned, fighting my eyes from closing and my head from falling backward. I needed to see her, to imagine it was her hand on me. My lips stayed parted as I pumped my hand over myself, feeling my skin heat up as the intensity built through our glowing screens. “Harper…” I breathed, my chest rising and falling with every movement of my hand.

  The view of her pleasing herself made it difficult for me to keep a slow pace, pressure building at an unstoppable rate.

  Her fingers pulled the material aside, allowing me a better view of her entirety. I moaned in response, the soft whimpers falling from her lips only throwing coal onto the blazing fire within me.

  “Nixon,” she moaned quietly, pushing two fingers inside of herself with a small gasp. “You’re so sexy when you please yourself. I wish it was me.”

  The spiral of my release was starting, my head cloudy and my body tensing. I tried to hold on just a little bit longer. I needed her to climax first.

  “I love you,” I managed to say, my hand sliding over myself faster as I throbbed in my own palm. The release was quickly approaching, and I couldn’t hold it off any longer. My head fell back a second, my willpower bringing my eyes back to focus on her. My body jerked, my toes curling. It took everything I had to stay as quiet as possible, but watching her touch herself was a new kind of beautiful I hadn’t prepared myself for.

  She groaned breathlessly, “Oh god. I love you, too.”

  At that moment, I was glad I had finished moments before her so that I could take in the way her lips fell open and her eyelashes fluttered closed. Her thighs clamped down on her hand as she seemingly melted into the mattress of the hotel she was staying in. The volume of her release made me tingle in a way I wasn’t sure was possible.

  My breathing was slowing as she tried to catch hers. I smiled at her once her eyelids allowed me to see the breathtaking blue of her irises.

  With my clean hand, I reached out and touched the screen, wishing I could caress her pink cheeks instead of the smooth material of my laptop. She was chewing her lip again, her eyes flickering over my face as I sighed.

  “You make everything so incredible, Harper.”

  “I feel the same way about you, Nixon.”

  1

  Make You Mine

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Harper

  “What time will he be flying in?” my mother, Theresa, asked as she placed the frozen turkey in the fridge to defrost. Her dirty blonde hair was barely brushed after her full night’s sleep. Her eyes were never dull, though—the blue shining. She was a natural beauty that glowed even on her worst days. I loved how real she was; she was a true role model for me. She knew when to the spend time to get ready and dolled up, and then the rest of the time, she worried less about how she looked and more about what she was doing with her life.

  “I’m not sure,” I said honestly, my pale pink robe dragging on the ground from the coffee maker to our dining room table. I sat down with the fruit I had pulled from the fridge. A matching night dress inched up on my thighs as I sighed, feeling the length of my sixteen-hour drive the day before. My latest accommodation was in North Carolina, and I finished up my project later than I expected. Knowing I had to get my room in order for Nixon’s arrival, I rushed home. “I’ll text him and see if he knows.”

  “Since when do you drink coffee?” my father, Nate, asked, almost proud. He had always drank his weight in coffee, from sunrise to well past sunset.

  “Morning, dad,” I greeted him with a smile. Blake was almost an exact replica of my father. The only difference was their eyes. My father’s hazel color was more brown than anything else, and Blake’s matched mine and my mother’s. Now that Blake sported facial hair, it was scary how alike they looked: tan skin and a broad face. “Nixon drinks coffee. I’m learning from his pallet and he’s learning from mine.”

  “I like him already,” he said as he poured his own cup. Probably his third by now.

  I smiled to myself as I pulled my phone from the flimsy pocket hanging by my hip, setting it on the table. No texts yet.

  Good morning, Nix.

  I sent him something sweet every morning he didn’t beat me to it. I was trying to stay sane honestly. We were going on almost seven weeks apart. It was the longest we have gone at this point. The distance was driving me mad. My projects had been back to back, and they were never where he was. My luck had run out with our unintentional meetings.

  “Is Blake coming home this year?” My dad sat across from me, pulling my attention forward. I almost forgot about the food I had in front of me. I popped a blueberry into my mouth as I hummed, thinking back to him mentioning it in our time together.

  “I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “It would make sense for him and Nix to fly here together.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” my mom said from behind me. “We could have a normal Thanksgiving this year.”

  We all laughed because our family had never been traditional. We liked it that way.

  My phone vibrated against the table, and I looked down to read Nixon’s text: Good morning, baby.

  I could feel an uneasy energy come from the words, immediately making me worried about him. Things had been rough lately, between Blake and the picture. I knew that he was handling a lot of questions. Thankfully, he had Sam to offset Blake a little, who I’m sure had only become more intense.

  “I’ve got to make a call,” I said as I picked up my coffee cup and moved to my room.

  After closing the door, I sat my caffeine down and sat on my bed, one leg crossed beneath me. I chose the small phone icon at the top of our messages and placed the phone to my ear, hearing the rings taunting me. Nothing was wrong. I was just nervous about him meeting my parents.

  “Hey, Harps,” he said, his voice distracted? Dull?

  “Everything okay?” I asked quietly. I was scared now, and I didn’t know if I had a reason to be. I tapped my fingertips against my bare thigh before rubbing the skin in circles. It was doing nothing for my racing mind.

  “Not really,” he responded in the same tone I had. I could hear the faint voices around him disappearing slowly. Was he moving to a private area? “I’ve got some bad news,” he said before a staggered, deep breath fell from his lips.

  “What is it?” I asked. How bad could it be?

  I thought about all the publicity lately and what Blake had said to me. Did they convince him to stay away from me?

  “Blake got me this last minute gig that films tonight in NYC. And he convinced Sam that it’s an opportunity I shouldn’t miss.” The words settled in my chest and stomach like bricks. He was telling me he wasn’t coming, even though I had driven home for him. “I’m so sorry, Harps. I’ll make this up to you.”

  I knew it wasn’t his fault. Blake had to be doing it intentionally, to keep us apart. He knew that I had planned for Nixon to come in tonight, to enjoy the holiday with our family. To meet our parents. I didn’t realize I wasn’t saying
anything as I basked in the anger I had for my brother. He wasn’t being professional about his musician, and in return, he was being a fucking dick to me.

  “Harper?” he asked, cautiously. “Are you still there?”

  I shook my head, trying to throw the thoughts away entirely. It wasn’t working. “Is he there with you?” I asked, probably a little too sharply.

  “Not currently.” I could hear him shuffling around. Where was he today? I couldn’t remember now. “I wanted to talk to you in private.” I heard him take another deep breath. “I really am sorry.”

  “Can you give him the phone?” I asked, needing to get some words off of my chest before I could come down. I needed to tell Blake exactly what I was thinking about this… about him.

  “Oh, uh, sure?” I could hear the confusion he was wearing on his face. I loved how it all translated through his talking and singing voice. I tried not to let it distract me from the choice words I had in mind. I heard him move back through where he had come from, the background much noisier. I could hear Mason most, laughing with someone.

  “Hello?” Blake was greeting me like I was someone he was doing business with.

  “How could you do this, Blake?” I asked him, my anger creating tears. I didn’t sniffle. It would give him power over me.

  “His career has nothing to do with you,” he snapped. I heard Nixon warn him with a “Hey.”

  “You knew how important this was to me. To us.” I was hissing at him. I didn’t know it was possible to hate him more than I had in childhood fights or long silences between us. Oh, but it was.

  “This is important for his image. The one Sam and I are trying to repair.”

  The guilt I had been pushing away since he had cornered me resurfaced, for the millionth time. But this time, it caused me to lose composure of the freely falling tears. I sobbed, “Fuck you.”

  “Take her back, please,” I heard him say calmly to Nixon, the phone away from his face now.

  I tried to get the tears under control before my boyfriend was listening again. I didn’t want him to know how upset I was, how badly I was looking forward to seeing him. I needed him more than I wanted to admit to anyone, even myself. Before him, I was used to the contentment of being alone.

  “Baby, you okay?” he asked, just him and I again. He was good about giving us privacy.

  I was sniffling into the microphone, not quite under control yet. “I’m sorry,” I said for making him deal with Blake after that and for being the reason he was scheduling him more gigs. I covered my forehead and eyes as I leaned into my knee with my elbow. Apologizing only triggered the sobbing again, leaving me completely vulnerable thousands of miles away from him. “I miss you so much,” I confessed, feeling sick to my stomach.

  “I miss you, too, baby. So much.” He sounded choked up, but it was hard to tell over my own dramatic cries. I was pretty pathetic as I fell apart. “Please don’t cry. I will figure something out. I promise.”

  I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. I listened as he tried to soothe me, humming in response to his admirable kindness and patience with me. “I love you,” I whispered, feeling a heaviness in my heart. I couldn’t pinpoint the definition of the sensation, but it was different from all the other times I had said it.

  He had to go, and there was nothing I could do to convince him to stay on the phone with me. I knew that there was nothing he could do even if I did beg him. I let him go and threw myself into my pillow, letting it muffle my screams as the aches from my chest spread out through my entire body.

  When I woke up, I felt like I was out of place. My eyes were sore and my head was pounding from all the crying I had done. What time was it? I hadn’t wanted to fall asleep, but my long trip the day before made it easy to succumb to the overload of pain I was feeling from exhaustion and Nixon.

  I picked up my phone, squinting at the screen. I had twelve texts and two missed calls in six hours, all from Nixon:

  Try to enjoy your day, babe. I’ll figure something out.

  Do your parents hate me?

  Are you mad at me?

  Are you okay? I’m worried about you.

  I hate that you’re hurting.

  There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with you.

  I made it through half of the messages before I typed one out to him:

  I haven’t told them yet, but they won’t hate you. I fell asleep. I didn’t mean to make you panic.

  I pushed myself up and groaned, now sore from sleeping too much in the last twelve hours. I still hadn’t looked at the time, but it didn’t matter as I shook off my robe and stripped my nightgown off to put real clothes on. Once decent, I exited my room with my phone in my back pocket and called out for my parents. They were gone. My stomach growled and I placed my hand over it. I knew just the place.

  With fried tacos in my lap, I tried not to think about Nixon. It was impossible when we had done the same thing in my hometown, on our first date. That’s what it was, right? I had parked at the closest park I could find with a soft, depressing song playing around me—like that could help my situation. I kept my sound on to hear his text come through. Nothing yet.

  I ate my food in silence, until my stomach was satisfied. Much like I would the next day, without him.

  “I’m sorry your boyfriend couldn’t make it,” my mom said as she shoveled stuffing onto my plate.

  I offered her a weak smile in response as my dad chipped in with the same condolences. I still hadn’t bounced back from our conversation. We hadn’t been able to FaceTime in bed like we usually did, so I went out drinking with Grace. Whatever event he had kept him out as long as his show did, maybe even longer. Never in my life had I felt so responsible for negative events in my life.

  “He doesn’t want you two to be upset with him,” I said without really thinking, pushing my food around now that it was in front of me.

  She sat down beside me, her laugh light and airy, “Oh, please. We just care that he treats you right.” She reminded me that he did. He would always treat me right. We would move on from this. We had to.

  “Like a princess,” I croaked, wishing I could take it back as soon as I said it. Blake ruined everything.

  I finished my plate and grabbed a bottle of wine, telling my family that I would be back later. Grace had invited me over to play board games with her family, and being in my house constantly reminded me that he wasn’t there. He and I texted throughout the day, but it wasn’t filling the gap in my chest.

  “Love you,” I yelled as I cleared the doorway into the cool fall air.

  My van welcomed me with a warmth missing from the breeze. I brought her to life and took the memorized path to my best friend’s house. Why couldn’t I get over it? It felt like it was only going to get worse from here, and maybe that impending doom was frightening me. Maybe I was allowed to be upset.

  I held the wine and my phone in the same hand as I locked my van up. I took a deep breath and faked a smile before knocking three times. Grace pulled the door open, her eyebrows pulling together as she wore a suspicious smile. “You ain’t fooling no one,” she said before pulling me inside. I grunted a little at the force, letting go of the false expression.

  Her arm wrapped around my waist, her greedy fingers already on the sweet alcohol. She held me close to her—she knew I needed it. We had tried the drinking and dancing method last night, and it didn’t work too well. It ended with me crying in bed. Again.

  “I already have the board set up. Ben took mom to the movies, so the place is all ours.” Gracie gave me a reassuring smile, her eyes soft. With her mother and stepfather out of the house, I could try to either vent it all out or try to forget the pain. The clink of two wine glasses echoed in the silence before we popped open the bottle of Moscato. She sat down in her chair and poured two full glasses, both nearly spilling over. I sat across from her, my phone on the table as I sipped at the delicious liquid. It tasted like juice, and that was the dangerous part. I sipped off enough
to be able to lift it without causing a mess, and I gulped down half of it.

  I sat it down and finally looked at his text: I miss you. Happy Thanksgiving.

  “You know he loves you.” I looked up, staring at my best friend like she had three heads. “I know you love him, too.”

  “Okay… That doesn’t change the fact that Blake is trying to keep us apart. And it’s working.”

  She reached for her game piece, setting it in the starting position. “When has anything ever stood in your way? Especially Blake?” she asked me before taking a sip of her own drink. “Where’s the fearless girl I went on trips with? The girl who said she didn’t need a degree to achieve her dreams?”

  When both pieces were in position, she rolled. She always went first. I watched her take her turn as I thought about the work I had done, the following I had built, and the number of men I left in the dust of my path. I wanted Nixon more than I ever wanted anyone else—anything else. I had to work for it, just like I had all these other things. It was easy at first, and maybe I thought it always would be.

  “Relationships are work,” I said aloud, trailing off of my thought.

  “If anyone can juggle her career and a relationship, it’s you,” she said with a smile. I returned it just as she continued, “Besides, it’s Nixon fucking Brooks. Don’t fuck it up.”

  1

  Make You Mine

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Nixon

  I really wasn’t much into drinking, and as I swallowed the shot of whatever clear liquid I was handed it reminded me why. My head didn’t want to slow down, the racing was due to all of the things going on in both my career and in my personal life— the biggest one was letting Harper down. Something I promised myself I would never do.