Page 31 of Memories of Us

“Damn, woman,” he admonished, but still ripped it over his head, giving me a full view of his muscular shoulders, perfection pecs, and defined abs. White wine dripped from my lips. Yep, wine not drool. Wine.

“B.”

“Beks.”

“If you don't take care of this situation right now, I'll start without you.”

“Bossy little thing, aren't you?” he murmured as his hand wrapped around my throat, tipping my chin up with his thumb. “If I wasn't so obsessed with winning, I might like to watch that show of your hand doing everything I told it to.”

“Brenton,” I begged. With a quick dip of my chin, I snagged his thumb between my lips and bit the soft pad.

Pressure released around my ribs, and the bra straps eased down my arms. Sharp nibbles traced along my collarbone, sinking lower and lower with each pass.

“You have fucking perfect tits,” he mumbled against my skin, palming both breasts for emphasis. His teeth softly nipped at my peaked nipple, shooting a jolt through my body. I dug my short, dark nails into his scalp, holding him tighter against my chest.

After each bite, his lips and tongue sucked and licked to ease the pain, only to repeat the pattern all over again. The delicious mix of pain and pleasure had me squirming against the laminate in search for anything to relieve the building pressure between my thighs.

“Pants off, now,” he commanded. At the slight hesitation, he pulled me off the counter and set my feet on the ground. Caging me between his strong arms, he said, “Now.”

A shiver racked my shoulders as I stared into his hooded eyes. “And if I don't?”

Another chill raced down my spine at his intense stare. “Condom.”

“Bedroom, side drawer.”

Instead of bolting to the bedroom like every other male would’ve done, he widened his stance and crossed those inked arms over his broad, naked chest. “Came back with that answer pretty quick. Needed those recently, have you?”

“What?” I croaked. We were not having that conversation now. “Brenton,” I whined.

“Answer first.”

“Maybe once, twice. Hell, I don't know. Does it matter who I've slept with when they were all piss-poor fill-ins for you?”

Something I couldn't read flashed in his stare. With a curse, he stormed out of the kitchen, leaving me half naked, confused, and waiting.

And waiting.

One minute, then another passed without him returning. I snagged his T-shirt from the floor, slipped it over my head and tiptoed down the short hall to peek around the corner into the bedroom. He sat perched on the edge of the bed, staring at something clutched in his hands.

“You coming back?”

“I gave you this. I remember.”

Inching around the doorframe, I eased into the bedroom and sat beside him on the bed. I pulled the stuffed pony he must have found in the drawer from his hands. “When you got accepted to SMU.”

“I remember buying it, giving it to you after flying in from Dallas. You....” Turning, he leveled me with a hard, considering stare. “You were proud of me. Believed me when I thought I could be more than what everyone expected of me. And I....”

“You promised you'd always come back for me.”

The room’s temperature dropped several degrees with the shift in his demeanor. Gently he pulled my forehead to his lips for a chaste kiss and took the stuffed pony from my hands. The mattress creaked as he stood and walked out the bedroom door, closing it behind him with a soft click without looking back.

Hot tears welled, but I held them in. Too many tears had been cried over that man. No more. But now the tears spawned from a new, different emotion.

For a man who had anything and everything he could ever want, I felt sorry for him.

Like a zombie, I brushed my teeth, stripped out of my jeans, and slid into the unmade bed. It was only early afternoon, but the roller-coaster emotions of the morning, plus the wine, pulled me into a deep sleep the second my head hit the pillow.

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