Chapter Twelve

Zoey

I hear Brent enter the room, and the soft pad of his feet against the floor as he heads for the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the space, followed by the sound of him brushing his teeth. I try to stay still, keeping my breathing even as I wipe away the last traces of tears from my cheeks. I don't want him to know I've been crying.

The bathroom light flicks off, and the room dims again. Brent moves around the bed, his presence somehow bigger than the space itself as he climbs under the covers. There's a moment of silence, the bed dipping under his weight, and then his voice, gentle and low, breaks through the quiet.

"Zoey? Are you still awake?"

My heart clenches. "Yes…" I whisper.

"Are you crying?"

"No," I answer quickly, though the lump in my throat betrays me.

He doesn't buy it. I hear him shift closer, his voice filled with concern. "What can I do to help?"

I don't answer. My emotions are too tangled, too raw.

A pause, then he asks softly, "Would a hug help?"

I nod, even though he can't see me. He must feel the movement of my head against the pillow because without hesitation, Brent wraps his arms around me from behind, pulling me close against his chest. His warmth engulfs me, his strong arms crossing over my chest, holding me tightly. I let out a long, shaky breath, the tension easing out of me as I relax into his touch, letting him soothe me. Something I never thought he'd be capable of.

I didn't realize just how much I needed this—needed him.

"Is that better?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble against my ear.

"Yeah," I nod, my head tucked under his chin, my breathing finally steadying.

Brent doesn't move, just holds me like that, as if he's willing to carry all of my broken pieces for a little while. And for the first time in hours, I don't feel so alone.

"What happened tonight?" he asks, softly.

"Nothing… he basically told me that he wants me physically but he's still with her."

Brent pulls me even tight as if to make me feel better.

"I'm sorry. I know that's not what you wanted to hear."

"I just want to fall asleep and forget today," I tell him.

His chin nods against the top of my head. "Then go to sleep Zoe," he says, using the nickname he used to use in high school. My heart squeezes and just for a moment, he's not the Brent who hurt me, he's the Brent from freshman year. The Brent in Homeroom and Spanish class. The one who used to share his snacks with me.

"Then fall asleep," he tells me. "Do you want me to let go?"

If he lets go, I might fall apart again. But I don't want him to be uncomfortable sleeping like this.

"Do you have to?" I ask, feeling a little selfish.

He settles in a little more behind me, getting comfortable for a long night. "No, I don't have to, but I already warned you on the plane, sometimes I talk in my sleep."

I grin at the idea of Brent talking in his sleep on out-of-town games. "I won't hold it against you."

It doesn't take long for me to succumb to the stress of this day, and I fall asleep.

Something stirs me awake, and I open my eyes.

Brent's voice fills the space around me.

"Jesus, you're so fucking beautiful," he says behind me.

The words barely register in my sleepy state, and for a moment, I think I might be dreaming.

It takes a second for me to remember falling asleep in Brent's arms. They're still wrapping around me but looser than before. He's out cold.

Then I hear him again.

"Zoey…" He groans.

The sound of his deep, timber voice hit between my thighs.

He's so close—his chest still pressed against my back.

The way he said my name warms me in places that it shouldn't. "You're making it so hard to keep my hands to myself," he mutters in his sleep.

He fidgets just slightly in his spot, but his sleepy state doesn't change.

My belly flips, and any morning haze I might have had wears off instantly.

"Brent?" I say softly.

I wait for a moment, but there's no response.

I can hear his deep sleep breathing.

He's talking in his sleep like he told me he does.

And he's dreaming of me?

I wiggle a little in my spot to see if my light movement might cause him to wake. I almost feel like I'm spying on something I shouldn't be. But hearing him say that it's hard to keep his hands to himself makes me wonder what else he might say.

Can I trust any of it, though?

Dreams aren't reality.

They're as far from it as you can get.

Then I feel it—his bulge pressing against my ass.

Oh my God.

I heard he's "packing" from the gossip mills in our school and sure enough, the rumors are true.

"Zoe… let me keep you forever," he mutters, then shifts tighter against my backside.

My thighs clench together at his words, and I bite back a moan, not wanting to wake him.

But then again, it's wrong to let this continue while he isn't conscious? Surely, he wouldn't say any of this if he were awake.

His arms squeeze me tighter, pulling me even tighter against his hard cock which isn't doing anything to stop the dampness now filling my panties.

I want more of his touch, and that's a problem since the only touch I should want is Liam's.

He warned me that he sometimes talks in his sleep, but he never mentioned that he could get me dripping wet without being conscious.

This man should come with a warning label.

I arch my back into him, feeling his heat and his erection slide between my cheeks.

I let out a whimper, slapping a hand across my mouth to block the sound but then I hear him groan too.

What I'm doing is wrong, but I can't help it. It's been a while for me, and I've always wondered what prom night in that hotel room with him would have been like.

I arch against him again, his groan growing louder, his arms squeezing tighter, and then I hear it.

"Zoey?" but this voice is so much more aware than the last time he spoke.

He's awake.

"Huh?" A sheepishly question passes through my lips.

I've been caught—damn it.

He'll never let me live this down.

"Was I talking in my sleep?" he asks.

I moment falls between us before I speak. "Uh… yeah."

I hear him swallow and clear his throat of nighttime grogginess.

"Were you pushing against me?" he asks, his hand starts to slide down the front of my body, painfully slowly and gently.

"Yeah," I admit.

Another moment of silence until he speaks again.

"Do you want some help with that?" he asks, his fingers low at my belly.

I nod slowly, licking my lips.

I should say no and pull away, but I need this. With everything going on with Liam, I just want to feel good… just for a moment.

"Would you like it if I did this?" he asks, his fingers just barely moving past the waistband of my panties.

I take in a sharp breath, my back arching again, pressing against his erection.

Brent pushes his cock harder against me—we both groan at the feeling of connection but it's not as close as I wish we were.

"Yes," I tell him.

Brent's fingers continue their slow descent, teasing the edge of my panties. His lips graze the back of my neck, sending shivers across my skin.

Every inch of my body is hyper aware of his touch, the heat radiating off him wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I can feel him hesitate for a moment, waiting for any sign from me to stop, but I can't. I can't say no.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispers against my ear, his voice rough with need.

I shake my head, my breath coming faster, anticipating his expert touch. His fingers finally slip into my heat, between my pussy lips, coating themselves in the arousal he created. His touch is featherlight as he traces the sensitive skin, taking his time, building up my desperation for his fingers to stretch me. My thighs clench, I need so much more.

His hand moves lower, his fingers pressing harder against my center but not entering me yet. "You're so wet," he mutters, more to himself than to me, the sound of his voice sparks heat deep within me, and more arousal coats his fingers again.

I reach my hand behind me, gripping around the back of his neck to anchor me to him. His free hand snakes its way up beneath my shirt, sneaking under my bra and kneading my bare breast. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever touched," he mumbles against my throat.

I bite my lip, trying to suppress the moan threatening to escape. My body is betraying me, responding to every touch, every word, every movement of his. This shouldn't be happening, but God, it feels too good to stop.

His fingers dip inside me, and a soft gasp escapes my lips. My head falls back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure starts to roll through me in waves. Brent's breathing is ragged now, his hand moving with a steady rhythm, coaxing moans from me that I can no longer contain.

"Does that feel good?" he asks, his voice thick, as his lips brush against my neck, while he thrusts his cock against my ass cheeks, over and over again, pressing against me from behind as his fingers take my pussy.

I can only manage a breathless "yes" in response, my body already unraveling beneath his touch.

He groans against my shoulder— he wants this as much as I do.

I want more of him. All of him. But somewhere in the back of my mind, the reminder of Liam lingers like a shadow.

This is wrong. It's Brent.

But the way his fingers curl inside me, the way his touch lights every nerve on fire, I don't care. Not at this moment. I just need this.

Brent's lips press against my neck, trailing kisses along my shoulder as his fingers work deeper— faster. My body tightens, toes curling, and I let out a moan, unable to hold back any longer.

"Come for me, Zoe," he whispers, his voice low and demanding.

And I do. With his name on my lips, I come hard, my inner walls squeezing his fingers, waves of pleasure crashing through me as my body trembles in his arms. His hand slows, drawing out every last bit of my release until I'm nothing but a breathless mess.

He pulls his hand away gently, flipping me around until we're front to front. wrapping both arms around me again, pulling me close as I come down from the high, and kissing me on the top of my head.

My arms wrap around him, too.

For a moment, the only sound is the two of us breathing in the dark. Everything about Brent envelops me, and I can't help but feel safe, even though everything about this is dangerous.

"Is that better?" he asks, his lips brushing against my hair.

"Yeah," I breathe out, my voice barely above a whisper.

But as the haze of pleasure starts to fade, reality sinks in. What just happened? How did we get here? And where does this leave us now?

I swallow hard, still pressed against him, trying to make sense of it all. But for now, I'm too exhausted, too spent to care.

We'll deal with the consequences in the morning.

I woke up this morning with no idea where last night left Brent and I, or Liam and I, except that Liam and Shelby are still together, and now I'm acutely aware of how good Brent is with his fingers.

Not to mention all the things that Brent and I admitted yesterday in the elevator, moments that happened a lifetime ago. Brent saying that he would have fought harder if he had known about the hotel room, has me still curious what he meant.

An hour later, my hair is curled and in a ponytail for ice skating after Gran's party that we're headed to first, and my makeup is done.

A knock on the door makes me jump.

"Zoey, you in there?" Brent's raspy morning voice says against the door.

"Uh, yeah. Just finishing up."

I can hear the faint sound of some sports channel on inside the suite. He must have woken up and turned on the TV.

I walk to the door, unlock it, and twist the handle, pulling it towards me.

I'm met instantly with those seafoam green eyes and disheveled dark hair.

He's still in only a pair of boxer briefs he was in last night, but a quick check proves that his erection for last night has died down. Even soft, the bulge still evident behind the thin material suggests that everything about Brent is to scale.

Big guy.

Big heart.

Big cock.

The first two are the only ones we've agreed to. The big guy will make Liam jealous, and the big heart got me this beautiful suite and offered to make my ex jealous. Not to mention everything he does to take care of Tessa and his Gran.

How does a guy like that just not show up to pick up a girl after he left candles and flowers on her front stoop asking her to prom?

"The bathroom is all yours," I tell him, stepping out and giving him access to it.

He takes one step toward the bathroom as I move around him.

He reaches out, his fingertips reaching out and pressing gently against my stomach to stop my progress from moving out of his way. Tingles break out from his touch. I remember very vividly the way it feels to have his fingers all over me.

It's crazy that less than twenty-four hours ago, I hated this man but now his touch makes my body perk up and take notice.

"Hey… we're okay after last night, right?"

His eyes lock on me, flicking between them as if he's trying to read something I might not say.

"Yeah, we're fine. And thank you for that. I needed it." I admit, feeling a little blush forming

He pulls his hand off my belly and then rubs the back of his neck to my question.

"You never have to thank me for that. I'll happily take care of you anytime you want this weekend. Just one of the many perks of me being your fake boyfriend. You don't have to fake everything."

Oh my God, did he honestly just say that?

"How do you know I didn't fake it last night?" I ask, challenging him.

"Pussies don't pulsate when they fake it," he says, and then turns to the bathroom and steps in, and smirks at me as he closes the door.

Is he flirting with me now?

Great. As if things couldn't get more complicated, they just did.