Page 75 of Light My Fire

She’s not wearing any pants or a bra and she has on Jackson’s white T-shirt. It skims her thighs. “I forgot to get my wine.”

I don’t say anything. I just shift out of the way so she can access the refrigerator. Brooke pulls out a bottle of wine and gets a glass from the cabinet, which makes the shirt draw up. I see she has her panties on still, which is oddly a relief.

I know she’s going to have sex with one or both of those guys, yet I don’t really want to think about it. Or see any more of her body.

“What are you thinking right now?” she asks me. “You look so…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?” she repeats.

I scoff. “Youreallydon’t want to know, little girl.”

But Brooke leans in closer to me, earnest. “I do want to know. I want to knowyou. The real you. You showed him to me yesterday, and I appreciate that so much. I like you—a lot. But I want more.”

“Greedy, greedy,” I say, a little amused she’s pushing so hard.

As amused as you can be with a rock solid cock.

Brooke stares at me. Her nostrils flare. I’ve hit a nerve of some kind.

Did one of the guys call her greedy? Was she greedy with them? Jesus, I hope so.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what you’re thinking right now.”

There’s a bratty side to Brooke. I didn’t expect this. Ironically, it only serves to make her hotter.

“The angel is actually a brat,” I muse.

Brooke gasps and pulls back. Then, after a beat, her eyes narrow. “So teach me a lesson then.”

Fuck.

That backfired on me.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then tell me the truth. What are you thinking?”

If she wants the truth that much, then fucking fine.

“I’m thinking that I want to see you pull those panties off so I can back you against the wall. I’m thinking that I want to hold your hands above your head so you can’t stop me from going as deep as I want when Ifuck you. When I fuck you against that wall so hard you can’t even breathe and your ass dents the drywall.”

Her jaw drops.

That should push her away for good.

But instead of turning on her heel and running away, which was my last hope, she just asks, “Which wall?”

Then she licks her lips.

I groan, unable to stop myself. “No. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re hurting me now by rejecting me.”

“I’m not rejecting you. I’mprotectingyou.” What is so damn hard to understand about that?

“I don’t need you to protect me from you. I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants. I wantyou.”

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