I nod.
And he nods in return, his eyes glimmering in excitement, then he lifts a lazy hand to Mel.
“Bye, Melanie.”
“Bye, Remington.”
He shuts the door behind him, and I still can’t breathe.
“Brooke, that guy is in love with you. Even I felt butterflies for you, and they were so big they were like bats in my tummy.”
The bats she mentions are in my stomach too, flying up to my chest, I swear nothing can calm these down. “It could be anything,” I counter ,while inside me, I can’t help but hope like crazy. “It could be lust. Obsession?”
“It’s love, you fool. Why else would he bring me here but to make you happy, you goose! Are you going to tell him?”
My stomach winds up at the mere thought. “I can’t yet.”
“You used to love to be the first, Miss Olympic Contender,” Melanie reminds me.
“This is different. I don't even know if he can say it back to me.”
I think back to what I’ve learned about his bipolar episodes, and all I can wonder is if in his different gene expressions, he could feel differently about me? If I told him I loved him, would he push me away, when all I want is to be closer to him?
“Brooke, he’s so f**king into you, of course he’ll say it back!” Mel’s excited green eyes twinkle.
Hope and dread war in my chest, and I still don’t think I have the courage to risk what we have.
“I’m not sure that he’s … equipped to love me like this. He's different, Mel.”
I wish I could tell Melanie the truth, but I will guard his secret for him if it kills me. I remember the “Iris” song so clearly now, and the words of wanting to be known. He wants me to know him. Not Melanie. And definitely not the world. So I don’t elaborate anymore.
“Brooke. He's Remington Tate, of course he’s different. Tell him, Brookey! Tell me, what have you got to lose?” she taunts.
My stomach clenches in nervousness. “Him. He could push me away. He could…lose interest and go after something else. I don’t know! All I know is he’s too important and I don’t want to ruin this.”
I never fully recovered the last time I broke something—it’s been the worst experience of my life—and it was only my knee. The thought of getting my heart broken makes me bury my face in my palms with a groan. At least if I keep my love a secret, he and I can still have this wonderful, odd, exciting relationship together where I love him in silence and pretend he’s loving me in silence too.
“I want to wait for him to tell me first,” I pleadingly tell her.
She seems immediately disgusted.
“Argh, little chicken.” She gets up and comes to mock slap me in one check, then the other, and then she smacks me for real with a kiss on my forehead. “All right, so while you go bang your Prince Charming and begin your happily ever after, I might go use my condoms. Or, I might go hound Riley and Pete and see if anyone can take me out somewhere. See you tomorrow? Details, details.”
I squish her tight before I shove her out the door and slap her butt as she leaves, and silky ribbons of excitement unfurl inside me as I pad barefoot into the master bedroom. The shower water runs and a bolt of excitement rushes through me at the thought of stealing into the shower with him.
My whole being fills with wanting when I close the bathroom door quietly behind me as Remy soaps his head inside the glass shower stall. Tingles of anticipation tickle the inside of my stomach as I strip down to my skin. I’ve never been so blatant with a man, but this is my man. My one and only man. And he’s sexy and nude and I missed him like crazy.
I open the glass shower door, and step inside with his beautiful slick skin and big hard muscles, pressing my na**d br**sts to his back as I wrap my arms around his waist. He groans and tugs my arms tighter around him, and the words I love you are there inside me. I've never loved anyone in my life and I never imagined it could be like this.
It is the most amazing, invigorating, frightening feeling I’ve ever had in my life. As addictive as endorphins and more. I lick up his spine and to his nape, sliding my hands downward to touch his erection. He’s already fully erect, and my every sense becomes attuned to him. The contact of our bodies, my front to his magnificent back, the feel of his throbbing length pulsing under my fingers.
I get a rush thinking it’s for me. Just me.
Through the pounding water, I hear his groan. “Hmm. Touch me, Brooke,” he murmurs, grabbing both my fists in a tight grip and guiding me over his cock.
A hot shudder courses through my body. I’m completely eroticized by his huge fists guiding mine over his slick, long hardness. Burning hot between my legs, I lick the drops of water from his back. Like a cat, I rub my aching br**sts to his hard back muscles and twirl my tongue up his beautiful lean spine. “I get butterflies when you say my name.”
He flips around and takes my hair in his hand and yanks my head back so our eyes meet. He stares at me, his look positively feral, and my sex clenches in needy anticipation as he speaks. “Brooke Dumas.”
I shudder, and lean my wet body into his. “Definitely butterflies.”
“Let’s take care of them…” His smile is slow and wolfish. “Brooke Dumas.”
I laugh, but he doesn’t, and when his lips settle over mine, it isn’t to give me a slow, sampling of a kiss, but a burning, plundering kiss that wipes out any coherent thought from my mind. He takes my wrists and slowly pins my hands at my back, and a bolt of excitement shoots through me.