11
Lourde
“You won’t. You can’t.” I pulled away from Grace’s embrace and moved into Barrett’s open arms. He pulled me close, and I buried myself into his chest. The faint scent of beer mixed with fresh linen lingered, invading my senses and short-circuiting my brain. When I gazed up at him, I found his dark eyes searching mine. I wanted to tell him everything would be okay. Instead, I held my hand to his face, and he leaned in, absorbing my touch, and for a moment, we both let the mess we created dissolve into the background.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Lourde, and Barrett, take care of her.” Realizing Grace was still in the room, we peeled away from one another momentarily to say goodbye.
“Of course,” he said while pulling me back into his chest. The beating of his heart felt like home. Quicker than normal, it vibrated throughout my body, instantly soothing me.
As Grace walked out, I wrapped my arms around his waist and glanced up. “Do you think Connor will be okay?”
“I don’t know. He seemed pretty angry.” Barrett stroked my cheek.
It was the truth. I didn't need to ask Barrett what I already knew. I'd never seen my brother that full of rage. Okay, maybe a few times when he and Dad had got into a heated argument, but he had never been that angry with me. We were always so close.
“Even though it's a fuck-stick of a situation, I do feel oddly relieved.”
“Because we no longer have to hide.”
“Exactly.”
“Hiding something can eat you up from the inside until there is nothing else to fester on.”
I shifted, glancing up at him through my lashes. His gaze was vacant, empty as he stared into the room at nothing in particular.
“Barrett, are you okay?”
He blinked, his vacant stare no longer there, as he stared lovingly into my eyes.
“I am now.” Tucking a strand of hair behind the shell of my ear, Barrett smiled, but it did little to quell the unease forming in the pit of my stomach.
* * *
I woke up to an empty bed. My head hurt from last night, then like a nightmare, I remembered Connor seeing us in each other's arms and the pained expression on his face—it still hurt today. Not long after the argument, we both collapsed from exhaustion in my bed. But where was Barrett now? Had he left?
Last night I admitted to my brother I loved Barrett. It didn't go unnoticed that he couldn't say the same about me. But he stood, taking Connor’s rage head-on. Unbelievably, he did the opposite of what any man would do when faced with a raging bull with horns that was my brother.
He didn’t fight back.
He didn't flinch.
Did he want to get hit?
I stared at the ceiling. Why hadn’t Barrett moved out of the way, and why had he said he didn’t deserve me? He was the most giving man I’d ever known. He said he was a piece of shit. Did he really believe that?
I threw my head into the pillow in frustration. It was as though he wanted to be hit like he welcomed the punishment. But for what? And why did I feel like it was for more than sleeping with me?
He had a dark past, he’d admitted to that, and something was eating him from the inside. All I knew was his sister carried a permanent injury. But what else was there? What wasn’t he telling me? And why?
There were too many questions without any answers.
The soft sound of the elevator ding brought me out of my swirling thoughts, and a few moments later, he appeared in the doorframe. Low-slung sweats and a t-shirt that clung to his eight pack of muscles had me doing a double-take. He looked so fuckable standing there, leaning by the doorframe, and like a tidal wave, relief flooded through me knowing he was back.
“Morning, beautiful.” He smiled, and it hit its bullseye like an arrow, filling me with butterflies. He took a bottle of water to his lips, drinking the rest of it in one gulp.
I sat upright. “What time is it?” I asked, realizing I’d been lost in the scene of last night and had no clue what time it was.
“It's late, after nine, but I thought I'd let you sleep after last night.”
I patted the space next to me, wanting to close the distance between us.
“I smell,” he said, pulling at his shirt. “Let me shower first.”
“No.” I threw the covers off the bed and shot up. “I told you before, I like your smell.” After last night, I needed a connection. His mouth on mine, his hands feeling every part of my body like only he can. I needed to know we were in this together.
“Is that so?” His voice was low, his dark eyes not leaving mine as he stalked toward me. Flinging off his shirt, he revealed his toned muscles soaked with the beads of sweat trailing down his chest toward his delicious V.
My lady parts squeezed together at the sight. I traced my hand down the curves of his chest, and he quivered against my touch. “I need you, Barrett,” I whispered.
My fingers dropped inside the waistline of his pants. Staring down at me, he held my chin in his hands. “You're like a drug to me, dollface. One hit is never enough.”
I moaned at his words, feeling the warmth pool in my belly, and he lowered his mouth on mine in a desperate knee-buckling kiss. With my hands around the nape of his neck, I pulled myself up onto my toes, absorbing his hungry tongue as his thick erection dug into my thigh.
He sucked long and hard on my lower lip, pressing his hand up and underneath the cool satin of my bed shorts. My skin tingled, every sense heightened with his touch. I needed him now.
With both thumbs, I lowered his sweats and underwear enough for him to step out of them.
Breathless, we parted from one another, and his huge cock sprang free. I immediately took him in both hands, stroking him up and down. He groaned audibly, a sound I loved to hear.
After lifting my satin camisole over my head and tossing it to the floor, he took his mouth to my breast, teasing me with his cool tongue. He sucked on my nipple, pulling it as he clamped down. He abruptly released it to switch to the other, scraping his bottom teeth and eliciting all my pleasure senses.
I gripped him firmer, stroking him in a steady rhythm, wanting him to experience the earth-shattering pleasure he was giving me.
He threw his head back momentarily, and I took the opportunity to get on my knees. I wanted to taste him. No, I needed him in my mouth. I slid my tongue over the top, then relaxed my throat, taking him deep.
“Fuck, Lourde,” he hissed out, his hands gripping the back of my head. I groaned around his cock, wetness pooling between my thighs. With a burning need, I pulled him deeper, so his thick cock hit the back of my throat, threatening to gag me. The little moans that escaped his lips only urged me further. Fuck, I loved hearing that sound.
“Lourde, stop. I'll blow.”
He glided out of me as I glanced up at him through my lashes. “And?”