24. Brett

Brett

When Fallon and I step into the foyer, something is immediately off.

"Hello?" I call, as Fallon pulls her phone from her pocket. The house is empty—no Chloe, Joey, or June in sight. There's a deep thrum of panic, and protectiveness, in my chest that I've never felt before, and I'm immediately on edge.

Fallon trusts Joey and Chloe with her own life. The house has a stellar security system—nobody could have gotten in here without me knowing about it. Surely everything is fine.

"I'm calling Chloe," Fallon says, pacing away from me. I watch her go, trying not to focus on how good she looks in that little black dress. She doesn't usually wear clothes that hug the curves of her body, so it made my mouth go dry the first time I saw her wearing it today. It makes me want to buy her more clothes, to shower her in the designer goods her body is begging for.

"They're keeping her overnight," Fallon says, walking back into the kitchen, clearly having just hung up the phone. She said Ainsley was having an episode, so they just took June home to be with her.

The pull between us is electric, like our bodies keep trying to find ways to be near one another. I watch as she swallows and pads further into the kitchen, putting a hand on the island like she needs the support. "So it's just us."

"It's just us," I repeat, nodding and glancing at the sushi on the counter. My plan—and part of the reason I'd dressed up—was to take Fallon to a nice Japanese restaurant downtown. Everything about us feels tangled and difficult, and I'd thought that maybe just sitting down over a nice meal might help.

I thought it might give me the courage to come out and tell her what I'd been thinking lately, which was that maybe we didn't need to pull away from each other. To admit to her that I liked the kiss, and I wanted to do it again, and I wanted to keep touching her.

"What does it mean, that Ainsley is having an episode?" I ask, trying to be respectful, trying to ignore how my brain repeats It's just us. It's just us . My cock is starting to stiffen at the thought of Fallon and I being alone in this house.

Fallon rubs her hand over the back of her neck. She reaches back, grabbing the clip in her hair and undoing it, letting her hair loose. My mouth waters at the sight of it, and I close my eyes for a moment, trying to reel myself in.

Maybe it's the fact that I've never really wanted someone and not been able to have them. In high school, I was so focused on hockey—the next big game, the next training session, the next time my skates would hit the ice—that I didn't pay much attention to girls. Didn't have time.

After going pro, I got any woman I wanted.

Now, Fallon is standing two feet in front of me, and it's torture not to reach out and take her in my arms.

"Ainsley has depression," Fallon explains, and I press my lips together, body calming a bit at the look on her face. It's hard to be aroused when someone is talking about mental health. "It's not a big deal or anything—she's really got a handle on it. Taking the right meds, seeing a therapist, but sometimes she has episodes, and it's just best if we all surround her with love during those times. We'll usually just do the lightest things, like play Mario Kart or watch kids movies. Go for walks. It's easier for her to get out of it when there are people around, laughing and stuff."

"Oh, shit," I say, chewing on my bottom lip and thinking about that, what it would be like to have a group of friends who would drop whatever they're doing to be with you when you're down. "I mean—I'm pretty good at Mario Kart. Maybe next time I could help. What does she like? We could do Indian food and—"

My words die in my mouth when Fallon's body collides with mine. I gasp, surprised, stepping back, my arms coming around her. For the second time this week, she's reaching up, kissing me, our bodies molding together, her waist in my hands.

And for the second time this week, I'm losing her before I even have her.

"Shit," she breathes, pulling back, shaking her head. "Sorry, sorry—I just—"

"Don't apologize," I rasp, before hauling her against me again, tilting my mouth so I can taste her, slide my tongue against hers, cock stiffening at the way her lips part for me, the way she's pressing her chest against mine.

"Brett—" she whimpers, pulling back again, but I can't take it. The thought of not having her in my arms is unbearable. And for the second time, she's kissed me. What does that mean? Why does she keep pulling away?

"Fallon," I growl, hearing how low my voice is, how close I sound to the edge, to coming undone. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop. Tell me you don't want me to touch you, and I won't. But don't pull away again if you feel this, too. There's no reason why we both shouldn't get to feel good."

Her eyes are wide, lids heavy, mouth parted. In response, she kisses me, and I make a noise low in my throat, scooping her into my arms.

I don't want this woman in my kitchen. I want her in my bed.

It takes all but three seconds to carry her down the hallway. She continues to kiss me as I walk, her lips needy, her mouth dropping down to my neck, grazing over my Adam's apple, her hands laced around my neck.

Using one arm to support her, I reach out, turning the handle and throwing open the door to my room. The moment her feet are on the ground, she turns, touching the small of her back with a finger.

"Unzip me?" she asks, glancing over her shoulder at me.

"Happily." I step forward and take the zipper in my hand, drawing it down over her back, a shiver running down my spine at the sight of her bare, smooth skin.

I can't stop myself, I lean in, planting a kiss at the base of her neck. She lets out a sound and grinds her hips into me, pressing her ass into my lap. It takes every ounce of self-control I have not to walk her forward to the bed, bend her over.

The only thing my body wants is to get inside her. But I need to make this last. To show her that I can be good to her, that I can focus on her and help her relieve some of that stress.

With the dress fully unzipped, I spin her around, watching as she catches the front of the dress with her palms loosely, holding it up over her chest. Our eyes catch, and I pinch some of the fabric between my thumbs and fingers, tugging on it gently.

Fallon's face opens up, her lips parting as she releases her hands and the dress falls to a heap on the floor.

"Oh," is all I manage to say, eyes zeroing in on her chest, on her bare breasts, at the way her nipples are already hard, how her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her cheeks blushing, that red flush stretching down over her chest, too.

"Brett," she hushes, something uncertain in her voice. When I meet her eyes again, I can see in the pinch of her lips that there's something about being naked that unsettles her. Something timid about the way she holds her body that says she doesn't realize how gorgeous she is.

" Fuck, " I whisper in response, stepping closer to her and lowering my forehead to hers. "You're too beautiful, Fal. It's blinding."

She lets out a laugh, and I kiss her again, reveling in the way her body responds to me, her hands sliding up and under the coat of my suit.

I don't care how much it cost, or what it will be to dry clean it, or how it will wrinkle when it hits the floor. The only thing I can think about is the feeling of her fingers dragging over the fabric of my undershirt, how she deftly undoes the buttons, leaving it hanging open, revealing my bare chest.

"You, too," she breathes, and I walk her backwards until the backs of her knees hit the bed. My hands are frantically categorizing every part of her bare skin, the way goosebumps follow in the wake of my fingertips, how she shivers when I lightly drag my hand down the center of her back.

Fallon thinks I'm beautiful , I think, distantly, as I push her back on to the bed and get on my knees in front of her.

"What are you doing?" she gasps when I push her knees apart. A ravenous kind of hunger moves through me when I have her in front of me, bare and open. Her thighs are tensing, coming together again, and from my vantage point, I can see her chest rising and falling, her eyes meeting mine as she rises up on her elbows.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I grin at her as I hook my arms around her thighs, dragging her down the bed so my breath whispers over the most sensitive part of her. Tipping my head down, I kiss around her, pressing my lips to the insides of her thighs and just above her clit, feeling her body tremble beneath my touch. When her thighs start to loosen again, her body giving into the lust, prioritizing it over the nerves, I meet her eyes, hands tightening.

"I'm going to taste you, Fallon."