“But you wouldn’t even look at me…” I say, squeezing my eyes shut. “That was as painful as the rest of what happened.”
“If I’d looked at you, I wouldn’t have been able to through with it.” His voice is rough with conviction, and I cover my face and try not to think of the way Scorpion delighted in humiliating my proud fighter. It makes me want to fight and cry at the same time, and I shake my head.
He’s quiet.
Then, he releases me with a pained noise coming from deep within him.
He stands and paces, pushing his fingers like angry claws through his hair. “I knew this would happen.” Dark clouds darken his blue eyes from underneath drawn eyebrows. “That’s why I didn’t want to touch you. I knew I’d go crazy if I touched you, and now, it tears me open to ask you to be with me when I know I’m just going to do something to f**king hurt you again!”
“Yes! Yes you probably are, you idiot! And it’s going to be a damned skydive for me, and I’m going to hang on tight and just jump with you because that’s what you do to me. I’m crazy about you. My life now sucks without you. I’m not here for the job. Although I love it, but it’s you I want. It’s you I came for that first night. It’s always been about you. I want to be with you, but I won’t do it only on my side. I want you to love me back, Remy. You’ve never told me how you feel about me!”
His eyes are brilliant blue, and they ignite with a fire that heats my entire being.
“Brooke, you honestly don’t know?”
I stare, and he kneels on the bed and holds my face.
“Jesus, when I saw you that first night in Seattle, I felt like I’d just gotten plugged into a socket. I got high just with the way you smiled at me, Brooke. The way you looked at me with an expression of pain and awe drove me crazy. You turned away to leave, and you wore these really nice pants. Your butt was just up there as you walked away, all perky and round. And I just wanted to finish the damn fight so I could go after you. The former fight I swear I just fought for you to watch me. So you’d see me. See that I’m strong and could fight for you, protect you. I daydreamed of kissing you, of making love to you. I was planning it in my head even when I jumped out of that ring and went after you. When your friend gave me your number, I got to the hotel to find a roomful of girls, the kind Pete always has for me, and I couldn’t look at any of them. I wanted to look into your eyes and make you smile at me.
“I Googled you, saved your number in my phone, and spent all night wondering about all the ways I would f**k you when I had my hands on you. I sent you those tickets, knowing for sure, I’d have you that night. But then, I saw a video of you when I Googled you again. It was your first Olympic trials, and you were hopping away with your torn ACL and crying so damned hard, and I just wanted … you. I wanted to burn the keyboards of the idiots commenting about your life being over, about the depression that hit you. You were me. Brooke. Me. And I wanted you to go out there and show them they were idiots, and at the same time, I wanted to f**king go out there and carry you across that damned finish line. We were leaving town soon, and I just knew I had to see you more. So I hired you.”
When he confirms seeing my video, I almost break, a weakness seizing me in the knees. Instantly, I remember our first flight and how Remy was so engrossed inspecting my knee. He’d touched it almost lovingly, stroking the scar with his thumb. And how can I forget it when he toweled me off and was extra diligent with my knee, the day his fans threw eggs at me?
“I tried taking it easy with you. I wanted to know you, and for you to know me, and every day I wanted you more, Brooke. So much. I couldn’t touch you and risk messing it up until you knew about me. I wanted you to care for me. I wanted to see if you could understand me … I tortured myself every night, thinking of you in your room, while I was in mine.
“The night we went to the club, and you danced with me, I just couldn’t stop myself. I’d been so wound up. And when you knocked down two guys for me, I went crazy protective. I wanted to tuck you into bed and go back and do some serious damage to all four of them. But you stayed with me, and I forgot about fighting, and all I wanted was to have my mouth all over you. I tried to control myself, but on the plane, you killed me with those songs about making love to me. I just had to have you. The thought of having you had me so damned high, I was already drugged with it, and by the end of that fight, I was manic and high on you before I could even get you into my bed.
“And then you woke with me, and I saw that you’d cuddled with me, Brooke. Soft and sweet. The next time I was lying alone in bed, I wanted to cut open my f**king veins wanting you next to me, so I went back for you. That was all that got me through the day, those days. Thinking of getting you in my bed and kissing you breathless. I kept looking through my tunes just trying to find one that could tell you how you made me feel. Inside. I’m not good at saying this, but I wanted you to know you were special to me, you’re unlike any other woman in my life.
“You wanted me to make love to you and you don’t know how many times I almost broke down. When I showered you, I swear to god, I was breaking inside. But I couldn’t do it, not without telling you there’s something deeply wrong with me, and I’m such a coward, Brooke. I couldn’t even find the courage to say the word ‘bipolar’ to you. So, I prolonged my time with you. Because I’m selfish, and I wanted you to care before you knew. Thinking it would make a difference and you’d stay. Not even my own folks could do me long term. But something about you made me think you’d know me, understand me on a level no one else does.”