Working at Elysium.
There’s a tease in my voice, “Are you going to invite me in?”
Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink as she looks down and moves out of my way while waving me through the doorway. Even if I’m forcing the issue a little bit, I don’t bother to make sure she’s really okay with me being in her space.
Because there’s no fucking way I’m leaving now.
Brielle lets out a gasp that goes straight to my cock as I grip her hips and then spin her until I’m able to press her against the back of her door. I cage her in with my body and push away the memories of how it once was between us.
I once knew her body better than I knew my own. Because I studied it and committed everything I learned to memory.
It was a long time ago and I want to relearn everything about her. I want to find the secret places I can touch her to make her sigh, gasp, moan, or arch her body into mine. Mapping her body again makes me feel like I’m exploring her for the first time.
As my fingers tighten on her hips, part of me is afraid she’ll disappear like smoke picked up by the wind, the familiarity between us sparks and catches fire.
“Thank you for teaching her,” my voice is rough. Even though the last person I want to talk about right now is Rian, I need to get the words out. I want her to see my appreciation, my gratitude.
“It was fun,” Brielle’s breath hitches and I watch as her eyes darken with need.
Fuck. The look she’s giving me threatens to tug me into the past. It’s fucking familiar. It feels so fucking right.
“She really likes you,” I murmur.
“I like her too,” her words are a gentle whisper.
The love I can see in the eyes of my woman has the walls I’ve spent years building around my heart crumbling. I figured out years ago that she was the only one to hold my heart anyway.
Thoughts of Brielle being mine again, or still because she never stopped being mine, has me erasing the little bit of distance between us. My body is flush against hers and I can feel the way she shudders in my arms.
“What are you doing?”
I ignore her and run the tip of my nose along her jawline. Every shallow breath she takes feels like an invitation to kiss her. But I hold myself back.
“Cowboy,” she mewls my name, the sound breathless and needy.
My jaw clenches and I growl out my displeasure. My road name became part of me years ago, but hearing Brielle use it has my body going taut and not in a good way. I fucking hate it.
“Everton,” her voice wobbles, like she’s unsure if she’s allowed to take such liberties.
“Rian told me that she shared about her egg donor and how she tried to trap me with a baby,” my words are fierce, not because I have any feelings for Shania beyond hatred, but because it’s taking a lot of fucking effort not to throw Brielle over my shoulder and take her to bed. “It was never going to happen. I love my daughter and I don’t regret her being in my life, but there has only been one woman I’ve ever loved and it sure as fuck wasn’t that waste of air.”
“I don’t understand why you’re telling me any of this,” her voice cracks, like hope is trying to work its way to the surface.
“I might be a biker, Tiny Dancer,” my voice is husky, “but I’m not a stupid man. After years of me keeping track of you from a distance while hoping you’re truly happy, you’ve shown up back in my life. Not just in my life, but in my casino with my club at your back without you even realizing it. I can see what fate is giving me,” my words are serious and spoken with pure conviction.
Brielle’s head jerks back like I’ve slapped her and she looks up at me with wide eyes filled with wary fear. Her words are slow and measured, “What is fate giving you?”
My smile is slow and I watch as her eyes study me and take me in. “A second chance.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, and her eyes get so big they’re almost bugging out of her face. Her lips part and time slows down.
I wait, my lungs burning because I can’t even breathe. She could push me away. She could tell me we don’t know each other anymore. She could rage because I’m taking liberties I haven’t earned.
My Tiny Dancer surprises the fuck out of me by wrapping her limbs around me. I use my grip on her hips to lift her, her hips cradling me as I press even closer to her. When her nails dig into the nape of my neck, as if she’s afraid that I’ll pull away even though I would fucking never, a hiss escapes my lips.
One side of my woman’s mouth tips up in a smirk. And, yes, she is my woman. Always has been. Always will be.
Her grip is firm as she pulls me closer and presses her lips against mine. While I’m not proud of it, I fucking freeze. For about half a second.