Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

16. Brooke

Chapter 16

Brooke

“ G et it together.” I gritted my teeth and directed a glare at the TV as I waited for Liam to dress and join me on the couch. Angry muttering for several minutes did little to regain the footing I’d lost when I slipped into that dumb hunk’s allure.

My body begged for his touch, but my mouth was determined to stick to the plan.

He doesn’t want you. He wants to win his bet, and he will if you don’t get it the fuck together.

An entire childhood with a guy too popular, admired, and superior to notice me except for one night . One night when he saw me as an opportunity to bolster his ego through my humiliation. As if he needed it—that big fucking head of his.

He still carted it around on his broad and sculpted shoulders—goading me to give in and make up for the fact I was the only person to turn him down.

I hated—no, loathed —that I was still the girl stuck in a moment of pressing forward to admit I wanted him, knowing he would pull back immediately after.

No, I couldn’t give in. Because then what?

Nothing, there’d be nothing, and I’d still have to have him lingering around to rub it in my face. He had to go. His proximity proved dangerous when I wanted more than nothing from him. I’d always wanted more than that. At best, I got his games.

Kale Moonstone aside, rule-following was high on my list of neurotic traits. I would keep my pride by maintaining a clear and easy-to-follow rule: do not beg Liam to kiss me before my birthday.

Get him to beg you to kiss him.

Shana was right. There was a whole lot I could do that wasn’t begging or kissing... kissing what? I chewed on my lip and frowned. I hadn’t considered the definition of kissing, let alone where it was or was not permitted. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine clarification would be required.

I was tired of being wallpaper. The girl someone settled for. The joke. Why didn’t knowing that make me change, instantly? Why did I invent New Me only to have Old Me rear her anxious head again at the first bump in the road? Why is change so damned hard?

But this was new and unfamiliar territory—new, unfamiliar, and sexy territory. Claiming my land, adventuring into the thrilling world of seduction and fun. Liam might be using me to stroke his ego, but maybe I could use him to stroke me—mine, I mean.

Maybe I liked playing games, too. As long as I understood the rules of the game, I could win.

Colonizing Liam’s cock didn’t sound so bad. Exploring his erection. Pioneering his penis. Seizing his shaft.

I dropped my head and burst into laughter.

“Look at that smile. You should do that more.” Liam stood at the edge of the living room. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, observing me.

I froze mid-laugh. “I wish you hadn’t snuck up on me.” Laughing like a donkey. I pointed at the TV. “I’m already all nerves.”

He cleared his throat and combed his fingers through his damp hair. “Did you change to a comedy? It was all a show. I thought as much.” He collapsed on the couch beside me, close enough that his shoulder brushed against mine. “Unless you think murder is funny, Brooke. That’s quite a mess on the screen.”

I glanced at the movie and winced.

Liam shifted to adjust his position, causing me to slide closer to the center dip. “No need to be shy when we’re both showered and smelling delightful. What fragrance are you wearing? I love it.”

Rather than shrink beneath embarrassment, I batted my lashes and quipped, “We do smell delightful, don’t we?”

Casually handsome, he wore a pair of joggers and a T-shirt, but all I imagined was his bare torso and a towel wrapped tightly around his waist.

Before tonight, I hadn’t seen Liam shirtless since we were nineteen years old and cliff-jumping at Whistle Lake on a camping trip just outside of Deception Pass. A group of friends had gathered for summer shenanigans, and he had come home from Boston to spend time with his mom.

I stood atop the weathered and rugged cliff side, staring into the brownish-green water thirty feet below, my stomach churning. The sun reflected on the shimmering lake surface, and I shielded my eyes from the glare and chewed on my lip. One of the last to hike to the top of the cliff, I didn’t want to jump.

Liam climbed up after me, silently approaching from behind. He nearly gave me a heart attack when he asked if I was waiting for the water to pen me a handwritten invitation to join.

He had been angry that day, and the days before and after. His mom wasn’t responding to treatment, and her prognosis was poor. Nina Porter, a woman with vigor, guts, and courage, had fought to stay around just a little longer. She was brave, bold, and fearless.

And she was going to die.

I choked on fear and anger above that lake because I couldn’t even live. I’d never been courageous, not once in my life.

‘I can’t do it,’ I had sobbed, surprising myself with the emotion breaking through. ‘ I’m healthy and young, and I’m supposed to do stupid things, and I can’t even jump into this fucking lake.’ I hastily swiped tears from my cheeks, ignoring the calls from friends in the water below to grow some balls and take the leap. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t brave enough.

Liam’s face had softened. He rubbed his arm, and an awkward silence hung between us. My eyes lingered on his palm sliding over his trim muscle. Strong and fierce, Liam was always one to jump into life. He was so much like his mom.

Sniffling and wiping my eyes, I’d dug my toe into the dried dirt on the trail, kicking up dust.

‘Look at me,’ he said quietly. Reluctantly, I had. ‘We go together.’

I’d been too caught off guard to question his intentions. Murder, maybe? But the pain in his heart matched mine, and for a moment, a white flag lifted between us.

We backed up for a running start, and Liam grabbed my hand at the last second, just before we launched over the edge. We fell together, and he didn’t let go, even when we hit with a stinging slap and sank like a rock. He kicked for the both of us when the shock of the cold water left me paralyzed.

Bursting to the surface with a panting breath, Liam’s broad smile had been radiant and illuminating. ‘You can do it, Brooke. When you want to, you can.’

A few whistles and jeers rang out, teasing calls about Liam’s new girlfriend. I dropped his hand, saving him from the embarrassment, and swam to shore, leaving him behind.

And now my stomach sank just as heavily as when I plunged into the water. I hadn’t wanted to swim away from him.

“Thank you.” The words were raspy, my voice tight. I cleared my throat and ran my hand along it. “For the scary stuff.” I nodded toward the TV, but that wasn’t what I meant.

“My pleasure,” he said with a teasing smile. “Let me get the lights.” He leaned over me to turn off the lamp, pausing mid-reach. “Unless you’re still afraid of the dark.”

“Plenty of teenagers sleep with nightlights.” And adults. “But whatever enhances this cinematic experience, I suppose.”

With a click of the switch, Liam plunged us into darkness. My heart thumped wildly, as if we were a couple of adolescents about to get naughty on their parents’ couch.

The jittery feeling in my belly danced with abandon. He lingered briefly, his body heavy over mine. He pulled back and relaxed. His attention returned to the movie, and I exhaled.

The dim glow of the TV cast flickering shadows through the living room and across his face, enough to illuminate his features. I studied him for a moment, dropping my gaze when he glanced at me.

We watched the movie with our arms pressed together. With every jump scare, I instinctively inched closer until our thighs touched. His arm draped casually over the backrest. His finger danced along my neck, a brush so light I might have imagined he touched me at all.

He smelled like me, or me like him, and it left me desperate to bury my nose in his shirt. What did the body wash smell like against his bare skin? When the amber and musk mixed with his natural scent?

The soft murmur of his voice, low and silky, coaxed my eyes to his. “You okay?”

I licked my lips and nodded. “Fine.” It came out breathy and unsteady. “This isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. The movie, I mean. Not you. Not that you thought it was you, but if you did, it wasn’t. You, I mean. You’re not so bad, though. Too.”

He smiled, leaning closer. “You’re doing your nervous rambling.”

I was.

“I am,” I whispered, fidgeting with the couch seam. “Sorry.”

He pinched a strand of my hair, curling it around his finger. His gaze fixed on the movement. “Do I make you nervous, Brooke?”

I nodded. “Right now, like this, yes.”

A fire ignited in his eyes, the heat of his focus searing. “Right now, like what?”

The sharp wail from the TV caused me to startle. We simultaneously turned to the source. Blood exploded all over the screen, and I covered my eyes with a gasp.

Liam looped his arm around me, hauling me closer. I buried my face against his chest, peeking out only when the dissonant music faded, and the scene cut to a benign shot. Sighing in relief, I pushed up to give him space, but his grip on my shoulder tightened, and he refused to let me move.

“Just in case,” he murmured.

“Yeah. Makes sense,” I whispered back. I fit so well tucked beneath his arm like that. I subtly pressed my nose into his shirt, inhaling his scent—the musk and amber of his body wash and a hint of deodorant—a decidedly masculine smell, fresh from the shower.

Heat radiated from his body, and his skin was still warm from the steamy shower. His thumb circled over my shoulder.

Electricity careened through my veins, and I was certain it pulsed through his, too. Liam’s chest rose with unsteady breaths. He abandoned his circles and splayed his palm flat against my shoulder instead.

My lips parted, and my breath hitched when his hand slid lower, rubbing the top of my arm. His fingers dragged a slow trail from my shoulder to my elbow. The smooth ridges of his nails scraped lightly as goosebumps broke over my skin.

“Cold?” he asked softly, his gaze on me unwavering.

No, hot. Very fucking hot.

I shook my head, avoiding his stare.

‘Remember, it only counts if you kiss him. There’s a hell of a lot you can do without kissing.’

“This okay?” he murmured, caressing my arm in another slow pass.

He wants to play; you can play, too. Own it, take it, control it, use it.

In some ways, Liam was a safe bet. Practice for conquering my insecurities and claiming the woman I wanted to be. If I don’t kiss him, I won’t lose, and he will leave.

There was a lot we could do that wasn’t kissing, and I could avoid him forever onward once he left. We’d brush elbows only when forced by our shared ties to Shana. Walking away with my pride and confidence meant I could face him in the future without the blush of embarrassment or the sweat of shame.

“Yes, that’s okay.” A partial truth. Each sweep of his hand felt ruinous, but I craved it all the same. My muscles flexed with every drag of his palm, my body tense and alert as I anticipated what he might do next. How far would he take this game? How far would I?

“Touching isn’t kissing, is it?” Another brush of his hand swept over my arm.

Why did it not humiliate me when he said it?

It enlivened me.

“No,” I whispered. “A lot of things aren’t kissing.”

The fluttering in my belly refused to abate. The pull of my attraction collided with the push of my fear. I tried to catch my breath, ready to collapse, but I’d never felt more alive.

With a soft groan, he pressed closer. He closed his eyes, brushing his nose against my temple. “Your skin is so soft. Can I touch more of you?”

My heart beat like a warm drum, clamorous and deafening. This was a choice. My choice. It wasn’t giving in. It wasn’t. It wasn’t.

“You can. Touching isn’t kissing.” A very reasonable truth.

“Could lead to it, Brooke. How confident are you?” he murmured, chuckling when I glared at him. “Oh, I do like that fire in your eyes. It makes me just as hot.”

“I’m not going to beg.”

Arousal flooded my body the moment his palm curled around the curve of my hip. A light squeeze of warning and a quiet exhale, and then he slipped beneath the hem of my shirt. “Are you sure about that?”

My head lolled against his shoulder. My eyes shuttered closed as I nodded. “Isn’t it supposed to be you on your knees, Liam? Or was that all talk?”

Blood pounded in my ears and a light sweat trailed down the arc of my back. And then I did it—I allowed my legs to fall open. Light-headed and delirious with giddiness, I struggled to breathe.

The woman on the couch was incredible, magnificent, and formidable.

She was me.

“You’re teasing me,” he breathed, sweeping his hand over my belly.

I only managed a whimper, the words just as tight as the fists I tucked in my lap.

“Or is it testing me?” he murmured against my ear. “I think you’d like the look of me kneeling between your legs. I think you’d like a lot of naughty things you won’t ask for.”

I no longer tracked who was doing what or why. The point of this wanton seduction suddenly muddled, blinded by the anguish of shameless lust. Did it matter? My pride or his intentions or regrets? I wanted him. Would it be such a tragedy to surrender?

My voice was shaky. “Do you want me to?”

“Christ, Brooke. I’ve been hard for hours. Do I want you to ask? I’m desperate for you to ask.”

“How desperate?” I smiled coyly. “Enough to beg?”

He rumbled a deep chuckle, and his palm skirted along my ribs to skim beneath my breast. His laugh cut off when my hand flattened over his thigh. My nipples were tight and aching, and without a bra, he’d discover it if he didn’t back down.

His pants were soft cotton. I rubbed his leg, sliding up his thigh. I imagined the weight of him in my hand, how hard he’d be, and the intoxication of knowing it’d been me to do that to him.

He palmed my breast and his thumb brushed over my nipple in a steady sweep. I stared straight ahead, even as I felt the weight of his gaze on me. Need pulsed low in my belly, a desperate ache. Liam continued to graze the sensitive bud, idle and unhurried, as I burned alive.

I arched my back, encouraging him to pluck or pinch or touch more of me, but his palm retreated. Teeth grazed against my neck, and he nipped at my nape. Fingertips dug into the flesh of my hip, and he grunted, “It’s not about begging, is it? It’s about feeling in control. Driving me insane.”

“Is it working?”

He brought my hand to his cock, hard and thick between us. A groan slipped from him when my palm brushed his erection.

My fingers curled around him as he guided me along his length. “I’d say so,” I panted.

“Yeah,” he rasped, hips rocking forward. His chest heaved with every breath as I gripped the outline of his cock. “It’s fucking working. You make me crazy. You want control? Then take it, Brooke.”

His nose was buried against my neck, his voice rough. My name had never sounded better than when rolling off the tip of his tongue in agony.

Skating beneath the waistband of my pants, Liam’s hand dipped low, his fingers walking along the elastic band of my panties. “You can get what you want, and I can be the one to give it to you.”

Need consumed me, my body coursing with greed. There was so much I wanted, but I’d never asked before. Not really, not with the same confidence that stoked Liam’s encouragement.

“What do you want? What do you want me to give you?” He rubbed me over my underwear. “What would please you? You don’t have to kiss me to enjoy me, Brooke.”

I panted and writhed, my feet sliding over the carpet. I pressed my heels into the floor to leverage my body against his hand for more pressure.

His forehead rested on my shoulder as he hissed a slow breath between his teeth. His hand slid into my hair, wrapping around his fist to pull my head back as he bit along the column of my neck.

“What do you want me to give you?” he said hoarsely. “You’re in control. Tell me.”

I huffed a laugh, my fingers digging into my thighs hard enough to leave indentations. “You’re holding me in place, Liam. That hardly constitutes control.”

“Say red, and it stops. Anytime, anything. But this”—he gripped my hair closer to the scalp—“I think you like this.”

A tingling swept over the back of my neck. I wanted to urge his hands to wander and stroke and finger me into oblivion. I wanted him to consume me. I wanted to drown in him.

Lips skimming along my shoulder, Liam murmured, “There’s nothing you could ask for that I wouldn’t want, too.”

But that wasn’t true, was it? Because I wanted this to be real.

The soft, insistent hum of a phone vibrating reverberated on the end table beside Liam. He ignored it and slid his palm over my thigh, rubbing slowly. “Say it.”

Stupid. I was so stupid. He wanted to coax me into defeat, not desire.

“That’s yours.” My hands rested on each side of Liam’s thighs, flexing into the rough fibers of the couch with my growing annoyance.

He grunted, “Ignore it.” His touch dragged higher, a languid caress. Patient and disciplined, he took his time. “You’re in control. Control me.”

Wild, absolutely wild to be handed the power I yearned for. But like standing on the edge of that cliff all those years ago, I choked on fear, strangling any bravery or courage I dreamed up.

On the precipice of getting what I wanted, I couldn’t take it. Foolishly, I needed Liam to want it because it was me, not in the name of his pride.

The drone on the table grew louder. The vibrations intensified the longer Liam’s phone rang.

“You should get that,” I whispered, hating the retreat of my courage.

He shook his head. “Not interested in doing that. Give me something better to do.”

A heavy rapping on the door did just that.