Page 49 of The Nook for Brooks
“Impossible,” I gasped, stroking him harder.
The bubbles clung to our chests. Every shift of his hips spilled water over the rim, soaking the floor, and I still didn’t care.
The plug gave another obscene slurp as he groaned into my mouth, and this time we both started laughing, teeth knocking, breathless and giddy.
I tightened my grip, pumping him faster. He did the same, his hand slick around me, thumb teasing the head until Iwhimpered against his lips. Our laughter tangled with gasps, water splashing between us.
“Brooks—fuck—come with me,” he moaned, forehead pressed to mine.
The bath gave a greedy suck like it had been waiting for the command.
My body jerked as I came in thick spurts that swirled through the water.
He followed seconds later, his release clouding the water and his hips bucking under the bubbles as he groaned my name.
We clung together, panting, kissing through our laughter while the tub gurgled in ecstasy.
“You’re indecent,” I said, still catching my breath.
Cody brushed his lips lazily over mine. “And you’re perfect.”
I laughed. “I was talking about the bath plug.”
He laughed with me. “Maybe I’ll get that fixed for you.”
CODY
Brooks didn’t exactlyaskme to dress him after the bath. He just stood there with his towel wrapped around his waist, looking at the neatly pressed shirt and slacks laid out on the bed like a surgeon preparing for an operation, and said, “They won’t put themselves on.”
So I did what any self-respecting boyfriend-in-training would do: I played valet.
First came the underwear, which I tugged up his thighs slowly enough to earn an eye-roll. Then the slacks, which he stepped into with military precision. The shirt was next—crisp, white, and ironed so sharp I could have cut myself on the seams.
Finally, the bow tie.
I held it up, dangling it between my fingers. “Right-o. Now I’m stumped. How the bloody hell do I… ?”
Brooks sighed like a teacher about to explain algebra for the fiftieth time. “It isn’t complicated at all.” He positioned me in front of his mirror, put the tie aroundmyneck, and began a slow demonstration. “Just a simple case of cross, tuck, loop. See? It’s merely—”
“Complicated as hell,” I cut in, grinning. “Looks like origami had a baby with a shoelace.”
He gave me a long-suffering glare, then pressed the tie back into my hands. “Here. You try.”
I stood behind him and placed the bow tie around his neck, my fingers fumbling as I tried to mirror the folds. I bent close, my mouth brushing his ear as I muttered, “Cross… tuck… loop… Still think this isn’t complicated?”
His breath caught, though his voice stayed prim. “You’re pulling too tight.”
“You’re supposed to pull tight… and long… and hard.”
He groaned—not with pleasure, but with exasperation—and tried to shove me away. But then I kissed the back of his neck, right where the collar met skin, and he stilled.
I finished the knot badly, the bow sitting lopsided, but I didn’t care. I spun him to face me, admired my handiwork, and kissed him full on the mouth. He let out a muffled sound of protest, but it melted quickly, replaced by a low, contented hum.
When we broke apart, I brushed my thumb over his jaw. “It’s time I leave you to your books, handsome. But before I go, I’m taking a little souvenir with me.”
“What’s that?”
I pulled the plug out of the tub and winked. “This little guy’s gurgling days are over.”
