Chapter 7

Chapter

Seven

FORREST

I press my lips together and roll them a few times. I consider this night a success even if my mother considers it a failure… which is the main reason that I consider it a success. But it doesn't help my cause to get ahold of my inheritance, so there is that.

Brooklynn's back is to me as she stands at the edge of the pool house, her gaze on the twinkling party lights in the distance. My eyes are on her fantastic ass. The party is finished, and everyone has gone to bed or home, but the lights will stay on tonight until everything is cleaned up tomorrow.

With a glass of wine in one hand and a beer in the other, I move to her side and hold out the wine. She reaches for the glass, her fingers wrapping around the stem before she inclines her head slightly and whispers a thanks.

"Are you ready to run yet?" I ask.

She hums, lifting the glass to her lips before taking a small sip. "I hope I was okay tonight," she whispers.

Bringing my bottle to my mouth, I suck down some beer before I clear my throat. "You were amazing. I don't know how you did it."

"Did it?" she asks.

Turning my head, I shift my gaze to hers. Slowly, she turns her head, too, and her eyes find mine. "How you were able to shrug them off, all of them. Because every single person tonight was a snobby asshole."

Brooklynn's lips curve up into a smile before she brings the glass back to her lips, taking another drink.

"Of course, they were snobby assholes, Forrest," she whispers, her eyes sparkling and dancing as she looks into mine. Every ounce of my being is itching to kiss her right now. But I don't, and she continues. "They have more money than God, and everyone kisses their asses on a daily basis. I would be an asshole, too."

Chuckling, I lift the bottle to my mouth again and take a long pull of beer. "Yeah," I murmur, taking the bottle away. "I used to be one of them. It's easy to be."

She turns her whole body toward me, her gaze holding mine as she laughs softly. When she looks into my eyes, she sees me. I know she does. She always has, and that makes me feel equal parts intrigued and uncomfortable.

"Yeah, you were. But at the same time, I don't think you were as bad as any of them. You left for a reason."

I want to wrap my arm around her waist and bring her closer to my side, but I decide against it. If I pull her closer, I'm going to want to take things further… hell, I already want to take things all the way.

I want to taste her—every square inch.

I want to be inside of her.

I want to hear the noises she makes when she's on the brink of an orgasm.

I just plain want her like I've never wanted anyone in my life.

"I did," I murmur. "But I didn't really ever leave." She brings her glass to her lips and takes a drink as I continue. "I spent my money because I had a trust fund coming my way. Like money meant nothing. And now I fucking have nothing."

Brooklynn turns slightly and sets her wineglass down on the banister. Then she shifts her attention back to mine. I take that moment to set my own bottle down. Then I face her as well, waiting for whatever it is she's going to say to slam into me because I know that it will.

She lifts her hands between us, placing her palms against my chest. Closing my eyes slowly, I feel her touch against me, trying not to rip my shirt off so I can feel her hands on my bare flesh.

Her head tilts back slightly so that her eyes are on mine. "You don't have nothing , Forrest. You have more than a lot of people. You have a great career, and you have a whole group of people, which are your family, who love you. And you have…"

"I have?" I ask when she doesn't continue.

I hope to God that she says I have her. Because I'm ready to make her scream. All she has to do is say the word, and I'm fucking on it. Her throat clears, one of her hands slides up my chest, and then her fingers curl around the side of my neck.

Silence descends between us.

We stare at one another, and then she blinks, dipping her chin slightly before she decides to say something.

"Me, Forrest. You have me."

I could fuck her right here, right now, and I wouldn't think twice about it. Her words go straight to my fucking dick. The only logical response that I have is to kiss her, but instead of doing that, I take a step backward. Her hand falls from my neck to her side.

"I better get to bed. Tomorrow is going to come early," I stupidly announce.

brOOKLYNN

Lying in bed, I stare at the ceiling and wonder if I'm actually going to get any sleep at all. I can't stop thinking about Forrest and about his life here in super over-the-top Richlandia. I mean, my parents have a little money, but it's nothing like this.

This is old money.

It's like nothing I've ever experienced before, and I have to admit that I could get used to it… except the people. None of them have been all that great. That Sascha girl seemed nice, but she was the only one who I would consider having a real conversation with.

Rolling to the side, I tuck my hands beneath my cheek as I stare at the wall. There is some kind of fancy-ass painting hanging in the middle. I know it's fancy because it has one of those gallery lights above it.

With a heavy sigh, I roll onto my back and look up at the ceiling again, waiting for the sun to rise. Tomorrow, I have to do a ladies' brunch while the men go out and skeet shoot, and then there is some kind of evening dinner party with dancing.

The brunch sounds like a nightmare, and I know I'm going to have to be at the top of my game because these women are absolutely ruthless. They'll chew you up and spit you out if you're not watching your back.

It feels like I'm in one of those old movies with Regency-era people. This whole world is totally foreign to me. I'm trying to envision this life for Forrest, not just him as an adult, but as a boy and teenager. I just can't.

He doesn't belong here.

He never did.

Sure, he bleeds blue old money, but he's not like anyone else here. He's just one of the guys. He's a Fury. There is no being a snobby asshole with them. Half of them are missing teeth, have had their noses broken a few times, and are covered in scars and stitches all over their bodies.

They're rough and rugged.

They'd also call him on being a dick, and then the team would probably fire him if he acted like any of the people at these parties.

Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I stand up tall and stretch. As much as I want to lie in bed all day long, I have parties to get ready for, so I focus on that task. And that has to take all of my focus. If I think about Forrest, if I think about the way his touch feels, the way I want him inside of me, I'm going to follow him skeet shooting, and I'm going to attack him.

Taking a shower, I wash, exfoliate, and dry off every part of my body. I don't know why I'm taking so much care in this. It's not like he's going to see or, rather, touch any of it. This is solely for me to feel beautiful and for no other reason.

Once I'm showered, I tug on my dress. It has thick, poofy sleeves, but the bodice is tight around my chest and then flares out from the waist and ends right at midthigh. It's also black with white polka dots and has pockets and built-in shorts underneath because it's short.

The whole outfit is completely adorable. I love it so much. Then I pair it with a pair of hot-pink Valentino Garavani designer high heels that have a large single stud on the top. They're amazing, and I probably won't sell them once this is finished.

I love them that much.

Fluffing up last night's curls, I put my makeup on before I move to the small living space. I'm not sure what I'm going to find there. I assume that Forrest is likely already gone on his shooting adventure. But that's where I see him. He has his back to me. Honestly, it's the best view I've had in a long time.

He's wearing a pair of khaki pants that hug his thick thighs. A pair of brown suede boots hit at midcalf. He looks like he should be on the cover of one of those bodice ripper books. To top it off, he's got on a white button-down shirt that stretches across his broad shoulders.

Sensing my arrival, he turns his head to look over his shoulder at me. His eyes widen, but then, in the next breath, his entire body spins, and he faces me wholly. I can't even move. I'm completely frozen in place. He doesn't even try to hide the way his eyes scan my entire body.

Down, up, then farther up, then down again.

"Morning," I rasp.

His brow lifts and he lets out a chuckle. "Morning, babe. You're ready for brunch," he murmurs. It's not a question but more of a statement. I'm ready for brunch. And I am. I guess.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

Forrest's brows snap together. "Yeah?" he asks. "Why don't you just stay here? I can tell you don't want to go, and I don't blame you at all."

Slowly, I move toward him. My fingers itch to touch him, to feel his warm skin beneath my fingertips, but I refrain, even if it's hard. Clearing my throat, I look down to my feet, then slowly lift my gaze to find his.

"Because this is about your inheritance. You're owed it, and I'm going to try my hardest for you to get what you're owed. Plus, I'm sorry, but your mom pissed me off, and she's a bit of a bitch."

He grunts but doesn't say anything, so I continue to tell him what I think. I probably shouldn't. Honestly, it's not my business, but he's brought me here, so it kind of is my business, too.

"It's not yours to try your hardest about," I say. "This is about your kids, about their futures. I'm trying for them as much as you. It's yours, and you shouldn't have to fight for it like this. Your parents are being assholes."

Forrest reaches for me, taking my hand in his. My breath hitches when he lifts my hand to his lips. Then he releases it before I realize what's happening. I'm moving closer to him.

I want to take him and let him take me.

I want everything about this man, and I don't know how I'm going to refrain from jumping on him. Whatever the case, whatever he wants, I would give it to him right this second. But he doesn't ask me for anything. Especially to take my dress off and straddle his face. Which is what my body really wants to do right about now.

Instead, he turns away from me, leaving me staring at his perfect ass when he does. "So we'll meet up here for the black-tie dinner?" he calls out without looking at me.

"Yeah, I'll be here," I rasp.

He hums. He's not sure what to say to that, and neither am I. "Good," he murmurs. "Dinner it is. Then we can breathe a sigh of relief because we'll be halfway finished with this whole thing."

"What happens if this doesn't work out for you, Forrest?" I ask.

He watches me for a moment, then turns back to whatever it is he's working on. I stare at his broad shoulders, wondering how I'm going to do this for days. I can already feel my breathing quicken, and my heart flutters with every second we spend in this small room.

"If it doesn't, I'll figure it out."

And that is that.

He'll figure it out.