Page 42 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

Well, he’d done it, but I’d helped. In time, I’d help more. Assuming he didn’t kick me out of his bed after this.

Maybe once was all I’d ever get out of him. If that was the case, I wouldn’t be sorry. This moment had been meant. Even after all the heartache and the years and the bullshit between us, we’d found our way back to each other.

“Don’t move,” he said an instant later, placing his knee behind me on the bed. Before I could even look, a warm, damp washcloth moved over my back, and I moaned, more than a little disappointed.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No, I wasn’t ready to lose that part of you yet.”

“Jesus, you’re criminal.”

“I don’t actually have a record. Just so you know.” I managed not to moan again as the washcloth slipped between my legs. He didn’t miss a spot. I couldn’t help flexing against his hand, and he bit my shoulder.

“Good goddamn, you could go again, couldn’t you?”

“I have a lot of time to make up for.”

“Me too.” Proving it, he tossed the washcloth aside and eased down my body to open up my legs. His teeth raked gently over my still oversensitive clit, making me jump—and turn my head just enough to see the faint pink tinge on the washcloth.

It wasn’t much. Hardly anything. And he’d kissed my sore lip, but that was different.

My arm shot out to grab the washcloth, and the cut on my arm throbbed its way into my consciousness. A couple of times, pain had tried to interrupt, but Oz had been my world.

That’s an ongoing issue of yours, isn’t it?

“What’s wrong?”

I didn’t have time to answer before he turned me to check me over from head to toe. His worrying would have been cute if he hadn’t taken one look at my arm and cursed a blue streak even Ever would’ve appreciated. She had a fouler vocabulary than anyone I’d ever known—until now.

“Fuck, you’re bleeding. I’ll change the bandage. God, I’m sorry, baby. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“We were a little busy.” My voice sounded distant. Dizziness rolled over me, and I dipped back my head, breathing in and out through my nose as I knew to do when I panicked.

“You good?” He framed my face in his hands, his gaze far too probing. “If I hurt you—”

“No. I’m just a little woozy. You know, like I was last night. I’ve never heard of orgasm-induced fainting spells or panic attacks, but it might be a thing.”

Then again, I’d also nearly caused an insanely stupid car crash last night, gotten smacked in the face today, and had my shower ended by an intruder who’d tried to slice and dice me, so I supposed I could grant myself a little grace.

And that wasn’t even mentioning losing my virginity to my best friend in the world’s older brother.

He glanced down at my arm, and evidently, he decided I wouldn’t bleed out for another minute or two. He shifted behind me in bed, pulling me against his chest so I could catch my breath. His lips brushed my hair, as softly as a wish I’d never known to make.

“Next time you want to follow me someplace, think twice, huh?” His voice was thick with amusement.

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“I’d do it all over again.”

“Got a death wish, Flannigan?”

“Call it a life one. I’m tired of living in the past. I’ve been stuck for so long. It was as if I stopped growing when Kerry passed. I didn’t think it was fair if I had fun when she couldn’t.” I glanced over my shoulder and wanted to carve out my tongue at the deep creases beside his eyes and mouth.

Good job. You are the worst ever at pillow talk.

“What do you think she’d think of…this?” He gestured at us. Legs tangled. Bodies so close. Sweat cooling between us.

I squeezed the damp washcloth in my fist. I wanted to tell him what Kerry had said the day before she died, but I didn’t want him to think I was making shit up considering what had just occurred.

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