Page 30 of Memories of Us

The rumble of his words vibrated from his chest to mine. “And how many have you had?”

“One. For sure two,” I breathed against his skin. “Okay, could be three. I guzzled a lot when I got home.”

“Because you felt bad for leaving me?”

“Yeah... my bad.”

“My. Bad. That's all you have to say? How about ‘Sorry I left you, Brenton, and I'll gladly let you bend me over the counter to make up for it.’”

My half gasp, half giggle filled the kitchen, and I shoved his chest. Beneath my fingers, his chest shook as he chuckled at my reaction. Fine lines spread out from his eyes from a full, happy smile.

“The counter is too cold.”

His green eyes twinkled with a challenge. “We could negotiate on the location, Beks. But until you amend the whole no-touching piece of our agreement, I'm hands off.”

“I hate sober me right now,” I grumbled, then grabbed his tea to take a swig. “Thanks.” With the hem of my T-shirt, I wiped the remnants from my upper lip.

“Rebeka?” My full name and the restrained anger in the single word caught me off guard. Instead of looking at me, his eyes were zeroed in on my stomach. “What's that?”

Right. Mr. I Forgot What I Did To You.

“Not all my scars are emotional, B,” I said, almost like a curse before pushing off his leg to stand. The room swayed at the quick movement, but strong hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me. I tried to shrug him off but couldn't loosen his grip.

“Answer me.”

“No,” I gritted out, then tilted my head back to meet his burning gaze. “Fuck you. You can't demand to know—”

“Fuck yes I can!”

“Not when you should already know, dammit. I wasn't as lucky.” He dropped his hold and took a step back but kept his stare locked with mine. The cracking of his knuckles echoed in the kitchen. “And I know I'm a fucking bitch for being pissed at you for not knowing and to keep bringing this up, but you know what, I have that right. I have the right to....” As I stared into his eyes, a revelation pushed through. “I have the right to do whatever the fuck I want.”

The force of my lips pushing against his knocked his head against the cabinet. I brushed my fingertips up the inked arms I'd been lusting after all day and gripped his shoulder, digging my nails into his tight muscles.

“Rebeka.” My name on his lips pulled a throaty groan from my chest. “Rebeka.”

“No, I don't want to think. I don't want to remember. I don't want to be mad anymore. Take me, right here, right now.”

“Beks—”

Instead of letting him talk me out of my plan, I shifted against the very noticeable hard-on pressing between my thighs. The hiss that passed over his lips gave the opening I needed. Massaging his tongue with my own, I offered him everything I had in hopes of convincing him this needed to happen.

“Please, B,” I begged against his lips. “I need this. I need you.”

In response, his fingers brushed up the back of my spread thighs to grab a handful of ass, pushing me harder against him.

“Make me forget,” I whispered, opening my eyes only to find his already open and staring down into mine.

“Make me remember,” he whispered back.

Clutching the hem of my T-shirt between my fingers, I tugged it over my head and let it float to the floor. Callused hands skimmed across my scarred stomach. His thumbs brushed up and down causing a wonderful heat to spark each place he touched. Green eyes locked with mine his head dipped and slick lips pressed tender kisses along my ruined skin. My eye lids fluttered closed at the adoring way he treated the part of me I loathed the most.

Forehead pressed to my bellybutton his roaming hands paused just below my bra.

“Man up, Graves,” I groaned. “I'm not drunk. I'm horny as hell, and I need you to fix the issue.” Taking one step and then another, I leaned against the opposite cabinet. “We can go slow later if you want. I'll even whisper sweet nothings in—”

He covered the small area between us in one step. Hands around my waist, he hauled me up and set me not so gently on the counter.

“Holy hell, that's hot,” I said against the skin of his neck. Angling back, I pointed to his shirt. “Off. Take it off.”

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