“DREW!” she screams. She must have felt more hands than mine yet I’m the one who’s in trouble. I love it!
I crawl out from our hiding spot and walk forward to face the music. I’m surprised that I’m being closely followed by all three kids…even Aubrey who’s usually less receptive to interactions that include anyone who isn’t immediate family. With the kids in tow I round the front of the stairs where we are met by Breanne’s scowl.
“Are you kidding me?” she yells. Her cream-colored t-shirt is completely covered in red wine and clinging to her body. The book she was reading has been tossed to the ground.
The four of us burst into a fit of laughter. I can tell Breanne is having a hard time containing her amusement too, though I’ve noticed she’s usually able to remain stone faced in situations where the kids are concerned. I convince Colin to run inside to grab paper towels and suggest that the girls head in and get ready for bed. The three scamper up the stairs and as soon as the backdoor closes Breanne shoves me backwards several times with a mischievous grin. I hold up my hands and tell her I’m sorry but she continues to shove.
When I’m on the other side of the staircase and out of view from the back windows, she launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck and firmly pressing her breasts against my chest. I’m instantly hard. All rational thoughts have left my brain. In one movement I hoist her up and her legs wrap around my waist. I slam her against the lattice wall and seal my lips over hers. Screw this PG shit.
She moans into my mouth as my tongue swirls around hers. It’s been way too long. I haven’t kissed her since we were on the train and I never want to go another day without tasting her lips. My injured hand travels from her backside to her front while the other hand holds her firmly in place. I palm her breast over her drenched shirt causing Breanne to bite my lower lip and giving me a rush. Her erect nipple is clearly craving my touch and the fabric between us is getting in the way of me experiencing her fully. My hand slides under her shirt and presses up her smooth torso before yanking down the cup of her bra, exposing one perfect breast. Christ, she has amazing tits. I roll her nipple between my thumb and finger and then roughly massage her entire breast with my damaged hand. For the first time since the snakebite my hand feels everything, making the sensation even better.
Our kiss becomes more urgent and I’m worried I’m being too rough…until she lowers one leg and fumbles with the button and fly of my pants. Frustrated, she gives up and shoves her petite hand inside my boxers and aggressively strokes my length. The skin-to-skin contact is going to put me over the edge. Her touch is full of need and I want to give her whatever she wants. At this rate I’m going to be satisfied way before I get the chance to seriously consider her pleasure. Her grip tightens and I’m losing the last shred of willpower I have. I try to find a distraction from my pending explosion, when a slamming door in our periphery reminds me where we are. Fuck!
“Mom?” Colin calls out. “Where are you?”
“Shit,” Breanne mutters, sounding as frustrated as I feel. I can hear Colin making his way down the stairs. All too quickly she releases my erection and drops her other leg before she anxiously tugs my hand from under her shirt. Apparently I’m not moving quickly enough.
“Damn it,” I mutter in return.
My eyes flint between Breanne’s hazel eyes which are dark with desire, and her swollen, heaving chest. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Colin rounds the bottom of the stairs and my irrational brain is wondering if I have enough of a hold on her urges at this moment to make her ground him and send him to his room until I’ve thoroughly sated his mom in the backyard.
Breanne straightens the bottom of her shirt and looks at anything besides me as Colin approaches. He eyes her curiously as she grabs for the paper towels.
“What are you guys doing?” he asks.
Breanne crumples the napkins into a bunch and blots at her shirt, although there’s no way it can be salvageable at this point. With complete composure she asks Colin, “Did I get him good enough?”
I frown, having no idea what she’s talking about. Colin’s eyes travel to my chest and he immediately smiles. I look down and see why. My brand new white polo shirt is now ruined as well.
“Pretty good,” Colin assesses.
“That was a pretty funny prank, buddy. Whose idea was that anyway?” Breanne asks him casually.
He smirks and straightens his shoulders. “Mine!” Colin proudly announce, though it wasn’t his idea. “We really scared you, didn’t we?”
“It was you?” she asks incredulously and then tackles Colin to the ground and tickles him until he apologizes and admits it was my idea.
“That’s what I thought,” she tells him. “Now get inside and clean yourself up. I’ll be right in.”
“Awe, come on. I want to play with Drew,” he whines.
“I’m sure you two can get up to more trouble tomorrow. Get inside…now,” she playfully warns and swats his backside.
He runs up the stairs laughing. When the door shuts she gazes at me with hooded eyes and purposefully walks towards me. When she’s less than a foot away I put out my hand to stop her. My dick is painfully throbbing. I can’t restart something we can’t finish.
“Why don’t you get changed and walk me to my car. I have something for you.”
Breanne frowns. “I’ll change later, let’s go now.” Breanne heads towards the front of the house, but I don’t move. “Why aren’t you coming?”
I cock an eyebrow. Her choice in words couldn’t be more appropriate. “Because your shirt is stuck to you in all the right places and I need a few minutes before I can comfortably walk. I’m in a little pain,” I admit. More like a lot of pain.
Her eyes widen and she bites her lip to hide her enjoyment in my suffering and then acquiesces. After five or so minutes she reappears.
“Sorry it took so long. I asked my dad to read the kids a story while I walked you out. Are you ok to walk now?” she asks, amused.
I hang my head and shake it. This woman has no idea what she does to me. “Lead the way.”
We both greet our security detail and head down the driveway in silence to where my car is parked on the curb. Well, not my car, but the car I was driven here in. I’m not allowed to drive my car anymore as it’s too easy to be identified, or at least that’s what I’ve been told. Agent O’Connor unlocks the door and I grab the flat, square gift box from the backseat.
“What’s this?” she asks.
“Open it and find out,” I encourage her. She starts ripping the paper off and steals a glance at me through her lashes. I’m nervous yet excited. When she has it all the way open she reads the song list on the back of the CD case.
“There is nothing wrong with Boys II Men or any of my musical selections,” she tells me.
“Trust me. This will be better.” I feel like a teenager who just made his crush a mix tape. For the second time this evening she wraps her arms around me and I swallow her with my returned embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispers into my ear. She releases me and stares at me for several seconds before knotting her hands together and looking away. “I can’t keep up with you, Drew. One minute you want me, the next your telling me no.”
“We’ll talk when we’re completely alone and I’m your only distraction.”
“That may never happen,” she says almost regretfully.
“When your dad leaves you’ll get Sarah to watch the kids and then come to my place. We’ll talk then.”
She bites her lip again and stares at the stubble on my chin while she considers this.
“No,” she tells me, looking up. “I’m not waiting. I’m making you dinner tomorrow night at your place. Don’t make other plans.“
Chapter Nineteen
Letting Go
Breanne
Drew opens the door for me with his phone to his ear and holds up his finger, indicating he needs a minute. He takes the grocery bag with his free hand and gestures with his head
for me to come in. I step inside the brownstone and am surprised at how spacious it is. For one person this is a ton of space! I can’t even fathom how much this place must have cost. I guess when you are a millionaire you can pay cash for this type of luxury.
Drew places the grocery bag on the floor by the kitchen, which is just off the entryway. I set my purse on the floor and unzip my jacket. Drew dutifully helps me out of it and mouths “I’m starving” to me and then disappears around the corner while continuing his conversation. Unsure of how long he’ll be I decide to make myself at home in the kitchen and get started.
I move the groceries to the counter and sing along to the words of the Mumford and Son’s song that’s flowing from all directions, though there are no speakers in sight. Thanks to the CD Drew made me I now know who they are and have become a huge fan. As I sing, I move around the kitchen, looking for a pot and utensils. After minutes of rummaging through every drawer I realize that the pots and pans are on an overhead rack. They all look brand new. I bet he’s never even used them. That or they are just for show. Well, he did admit that he doesn’t cook. Time to break them in.
I grab a spatula I find in a drawer and head over to the island, singing quietly to Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse” which has just started. Rising on my tiptoes I reach for a pot and am frustrated that it’s barely out of reach. I rise up again, determined to get it down, when I feel Drew’s hand on the small of my back.
“Need a little help?” he asks, pressing against my backside as he reaches effortlessly for the pot.
As he does, the familiar yet overwhelming electric current that strikes every time we touch, courses through my body and I have to remind myself to breathe. He backs up marginally but his hand doesn’t move from my back. Is this going to happen every time he touches me? I secretly hope so and wonder how often that will be. Over the last few weeks he hasn’t touched me at all, aside from yesterday, and I have desperately missed him.
“Here you go.”
I look over my shoulder and see he’s holding the pot out to the side. In order to take it I’ll have to turn into him. My chest will be pressed against his. The thought of being enclosed by his body causes every muscle in my body to tighten. My pulse has accelerated with a dizzying energy, and I feel weak.
“Thanks,” I say, spinning on my heels. The entire time I keep my eyes on the pot.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” he comments. “I didn’t think you’d know that song, either.”
“Very funny. I guess I have many talents you don’t know about,” I boast as I meet his gaze, raising my eyebrows and wink.
“Yet,” Drew’s gaze turns dark.
Feeling my cheeks flush under the intensity of his eyes and his proximity, my eyes dart away and I tell myself to focus on making dinner. He stopped yesterday when things got intense and he said he wanted to talk. The anticipation of what may or may not be said or happen is making me nervous.
Just as I’m making contact with the pot, Drew twirls it by the handle and places it behind me on the counter. I put my hands on the counter behind me and look up at him with an annoyed glare. Drew smiles and tucks a stray hair behind my ear. His fingers continue trailing around my chin. He cups my jaw and leans into me slowly. His lips brush against my ear and he whispers, “let’s hold off on dinner.”
“You wanted to talk,” I say.
“We will,” he assures me.
“I thought you were starving,” I reply, a little too eager and breathy.
“I am.”
Drew kisses my neck and playfully tugs on my earlobe with his teeth. I grip the edge of the counter and open my mouth to speak, but all I can muster is a moan.
His lips find mine as his body imprisons me against the kitchen island. A very small part of my brain is yelling for me to stop, reminding me of the mixed signals he sends and the complications in my personal life. Yet, I can’t stop – I don’t want to. He lifts me onto the counter and pulls me forward, grabbing me behind my knees and parting my legs in the process. Instinctively, I wrap my legs around his waist, closing the space between us. Within seconds, I’m vaguely aware of him climbing steps with me clinging to him, our lips never parting.
Drew lays me down on a soft, down comforter. He swiftly unties my black wrap shirt and helps me maneuver out of it before tossing it to the floor. I take this as my cue and begin unbuttoning his shirt and throw it in the same direction. This is such a rush! I haven’t felt this alive in…well, since the last time I felt his body against mine. My hands travel down from his chest to the waistband of his pants and his breath catches. As I unbutton his jeans and move to the zipper he grabs my wrists and forces them over my head, tossing me back onto the bed.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, pressing hard against me.
“Positive,” I assure him.
“Promise me you won’t regret this,” he demands, trailing kisses down my neck.
I’m transported back in time several weeks to him telling me he wouldn’t be my mistake. Since that moment I’ve been thinking that he didn’t want me this way. I’m smart enough to know this is more than friendship. He even said we weren’t just friends. But we haven’t talked about what he meant. Part of me needs to define this while the other part of me knows it’s better left unsaid. Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself. I want him too much.
“I won’t,” I tell him and feel him smile against my cheek.
He slowly removes every article of clothing, kissing every inch of me as it becomes exposed. He only pauses briefly to admire my black stilettos and mutters, “Another time,” before chucking them on the floor. I have never felt more comfortable in my own skin or more desired. Drew makes me feel like a goddess. My entire body responds to his every touch as if he owns me, and in a way I suppose he does. The ache I’ve been feeling isn’t purely sexual; my need for him goes far beyond that. The realization is both exhilarating and terrifying.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he says, appraising me with his eyes.
I arch my back and press my body into his roaming mouth and hands. When I’m completely naked, he trails kisses from the outside of my thigh, up my belly to my breasts, teasing me. I tip my head back and close my eyes. How can something feel so good and be so frustrating at the same time? Like the mind reader he is, he slowly moves his hand downward and parts my legs. With his expert fingers he grants me some relief.
“These,” he exhales, bending down to kiss my breasts and taking his time to suck each nipple. Drew drags his nose up my neck to my face until his lips land on mine. “Definitely these,” he murmurs against my mouth before briefly biting my lower lip and continuing upward. “This,” he whispers upon kissing my forehead. He lowers his lips to the center of my left breast. “Most importantly, this.” He kisses the same spot over my heart several times. “All mine.”
My eyes shut and my breathing hitches. His sudden possessiveness is turning me on big time. “Yes,” I gasp. Take whatever you want.
“Hmm, let’s not forget about this,” he tells me, sliding two fingers inside me. I moan loudly and when his mouth follows suit it’s almost more than I can bear.
“Mmmm,” Drew groans as he licks my sex. I’ve never let anyone do this to me before, and it feels amazing. “I love your taste.” I find his statement both dirty and incredibly hot. If this didn’t feel so good his words would be embarrassing. Lucky for me, the sensation is so incredible any reservations I had are long gone.
With my legs over his shoulders, he continues his brilliant assault. I tilt my pelvis upward needing the friction, only he pins my hips down, completely restraining me. “This is mine. No one else…ever,” he moans, his tongue’s swirling. “Mine,” he mutters against my flesh again, greedily devouring me and claiming me as his.
Curveball Page 30
