Page 133 of The Sounds of Her

“Okay, fine.” I take her chin between my thumb and forefinger, making her keep her eyes on mine. She’s right, they don’t deserve even an iota of her time or attention. “But you and I both know withholding sex is gonna be harder for you than it is for me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” she answers with a haughty look.

Laughing, I lean in and kiss her. Yeah, right. She’d never be able to hold out.

When the song ends, we mingle some more, grab drinks and take a ridiculously large number of photographs in the love booth with Jordan and Alessa. I hope those bastards are watching and seeing how amazing Brooke is, in her element, surrounded by her peers, and all the people who adore and respect her.

I can’t help but watch them, and although Eloise sneers in my direction, Gerard avoids looking at me, but he keeps looking at his daughter. I’m tempted to go over and punch him in his fucking miserable face. But I promised Brooke.

It’s nearing eleven when I suggest we go. These people have taken up enough of our first Valentine’s day together. I’ve never done Valentines with anyone before and as much as I want her to enjoy the ball, I want to spend some time alone together.

We were both busy all day, so it’s our time now.

It takes a while for Brooke to do the rounds and at one point, we’re face to face with her parents. Brooke moves to someone else without so much as a blink in their direction. It might come across as aloof and unaffected. Deep down, she’s still hurt.

We head back to my place. Nick and Elsa are in a hotel, so she can come back to my apartment. I can’t wait to peel that dress off her. I have plans.

It’s hard work keeping my hands off her in the elevator, but somehow I manage. When I let us in, I leave the lights off. Brooke’s eyes widen. I had some help from Nick’s assistant. I text her when we headed out from the party, and she promised everything is ready for us.

I asked for a few candles, champagne on ice and the gift I got Brooke. More candles than I knew we own bathe the room in a soft light and the champagne is waiting on the coffee table, with a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.

“How did you do this?” she asks me. “I never had you pegged as a romantic.”

“Magic.”

Her laugh is husky as I take her coat and hang it up.

“We said we weren’t going to get each other gifts.” Brooke moves around the couch.

“I’ve never done anything special for Valentines before, so I wanted to this year.”

“Oh yeah? Why is that?”

“Because of you. And you deserve a treat, seen as how you’ve already given me one.”

She frowns in confusion. I run my hand over her hip and upwards, squeezing her breast. “This fucking dress.”

Her smile is coy as she moves away and grabs the champagne. She pops the cork with no trouble, and I smirk, trust Brooke not to let a man take the lead.

She hands me the champagne bottle to fill the glasses and picks up a chocolate strawberry, biting the tip off. Juice runs down the side of her mouth. Stepping close, I use my tongue to catch it, instead of letting her wipe it away. Brooke moans and I swipe my tongue over her lips, opening up her mouth and dipping inside, tasting the strawberry and chocolate. Such a heady combination, my dick swells.

I draw away far sooner than I want to, and she makes a noise of disappointment but lets me pour us both a glass. We sit down, and Brooke kicks off her shoes. I pick up the elaborately wrapped gift. Janie is going to get a nice bonus for all of this.

I hand Brooke the gift and she sets down her drink after taking a hefty mouthful. She’s nervous. I watch her face as she opens the small box. It takes a second, then she bursts out laughing. My grin is wide as she takes out the bottle of Sensual Strawberry lube and looks at me.

“Now that is what I call romance,” she deadpans.

“It’s for later.” I set it down on the table. “I have something else for you first that involves taking off my shirt.”

“Well, I think that involves this too,” she points to the lube, excitement dancing in her eyes.

“True.”

I get up and discard my tux jacket and shoes. Brooke sits back in her seat and crosses her legs, sipping her champagne as she watches me undo the bow tie slowly, pulling it out from beneath my collar. Brooke wolf whistles at me as I start to unbutton my shirt.

“I love when you objectify me,” I quip.

“Less talking, more getting naked,” she fires back.

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