Sure Bet (Out of Left Field #1)

21. Brooke

Chapter 21

Brooke

I stared unblinkingly at the stark white numbers on my bedside clock. It’d been an hour since I said goodnight to Liam, but I couldn’t settle.

Kicking off my blankets with a huff, I accepted defeat.

The condo was so quiet that my quickened heartbeat pounded in my ears as I tiptoed down the hall.

“Liam?” I whispered, cracking his door.

Darkness blanketed the room, but one panel of his curtains was pushed open. The glow of the moon and the outside streetlights cast shadows throughout the space.

Liam sat up in bed, his silhouette a line against the dark. “Brooke? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

His voice was a little rusty. He must have been asleep.

“I’m sorry.” I stepped into the room, closed the door, and leaned against it. “I can’t sleep. My mind… I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Your presentation? It’s okay to be nervous?—”

“I had no idea how hard things were or how many years you struggled. I feel so awful about it, Liam. I’m so sad and…” A sob choked off the words before I finished. Guilt and remorse piled onto the sadness. Guilt as I imagined him going through that alone. Remorse for all I’d done that might have made everything worse.

Regret. So many regrets.

He lifted the blanket. “Do you want to sleep in here tonight?”

Maybe the nights after, too.

I sniffled and nodded, climbing in beside him. I kept my back to him, curling into a ball. His arms were around me a moment later, his breath fanning through my hair. He slept shirtless, the heat of his hard body like a furnace.

The soft sheets smelled like him, and I immediately relaxed. He was here with me, in this room, in this space, and he was okay. Liam was okay.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, the words tight in my sore throat. I had it all wrong—had him wrong. People expected so much of Liam because he was talented, outgoing, charming, handsome… I assumed things were fine in his life because he was too big in my eyes ever to be anything else. I hadn’t considered how the world looked from his point of view. “I’m so sorry.”

He hauled me closer—an exceptional big spoon. “Don’t overthink it. I’m fine, Brooke. I promise.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Don’t overthink it? Do you know me? Is there even any other kind of thinking?”

His forehead pressed against the base of my neck, and he shook his head. “What a foolish man to suggest otherwise.”

But he wasn’t. Liam wasn’t foolish or an idiot or an asshole or any other denigration I threw his way as if he were a titanium wall built to withstand it.

Liam’s hand rested at the top of my thigh and traced idle circles over my sleep shorts. His quiet, deep breaths swept along my skin.

The room was silent, and each pass of his touch over my clothing echoed between us. My body thrummed with awareness, alive and vibrating with the tension in that silence. I focused on my breathing to force a state of calm when my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

It started with a roaming, gentle caress. His fingers walked down my leg, slowly dragging up again. His other arm rested beneath my head like a pillow.

“Pride is such a dumb thing,” I whispered, lacing my hand with his above me. I rocked back. “I don’t need it. It’s probably unhealthy, right? Some sort of sin?”

“Mmm,” he hummed against the base of my neck. “You don’t need it, but you’ve earned it. While I fully condone sin, you’d be angry at yourself in the morning. Get some sleep, Brooke.” His words and actions were at odds; his fingers making infuriating circles on my skin.

And he was wrong. I wouldn’t be angry in the morning, not tomorrow, or any day after that, for letting myself fall into the warmth of his proximity or the growing affection between us.

I think… I would feel brave for taking the leap with him.

His touch grazed my stomach, and I slid my hand over his to guide him beneath my shirt. I pushed up the fabric and exposed my breasts.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured, rutting against me from behind. “You’re going to kill me.”

“It’s hot like this. Feeling like something is off-limits.” I rolled over to face him, hooking my leg over his hip and enjoying the sound of his forced shallow breaths. “I was never much of a rule breaker, but I’m good at finding the technicalities. This isn’t kissing, is it?”

Liam licked his lips, nodding as he maintained firm eye contact with me and not my naked tits. He blew out a slow exhale, and the fingers curved around my waist clenched tightly. “No, it’s not.”

I lifted my chin and bared my neck to him. He wasted no time burying his nose against my skin, trailing up the column of my nape. Warm breaths fanned between us, his hips thrusting.

My palm flattened over his heart, the fast drumming in his chest matching pace with mine. I trailed the pad of my finger over each ridge of muscle in his torso, then lower.

Lips brushed the side of my neck, and I leaned into his touch. Cupping my breasts, he tweaked my nipples and sucked and nibbled along my skin. He rubbed and pinched and plucked, fondled and groped and caressed as I panted and writhed. Hips rolled in rhythm together, undulating and rocking. My breathing quickened, and he groaned in my ear when I stroked him over his boxer briefs.

His thumb hooked into the waistband of my shorts, roughly tugging them down. “Is making you come off-limits? Tell me now because I’ve been thinking about the sounds you made last night and how desperately I want to hear them again.”

I slipped into his briefs, gripping him. Hot and hard, heavy and thick, the smooth satin of his cock felt good in my hand. My fingers wrapped around him, and he bit my shoulder with a groan. “Answer me, Brooke.”

I moaned softly when he tugged my shorts and panties the rest of the way down, his palm dragging back up the inside of my thigh. My body was on fire, pleasure coiled in my belly. “Yes, make me come. But I’m not?—”

Liam nipped at my earlobe, cutting me off. “Just let me make you feel good. That’s all, Brooke. I don’t want to talk about a fucking bet. I don’t give a shit about it.” He smoothed his hand over my leg, resting at the apex of my thighs. A slow smile curled on his lips. “Do you like it when I touch you here?”

His fingers spread me, rubbing tight and fast circles over my clit as I stroked him, and he pumped into my fist.

I nodded furiously, light-headed with the intensity and hypersensitive to whom the touch belonged. I stared between us. Liam played with me, fondling and fingering, and holy shit, he was making a mess of me.

His chest heaved with a low chuckle, the words a silky heat. “Are you watching?”

My gaze shot up to his, and warmth flooded my cheeks like he’d caught me doing something wrong.

Jaw slack, he kept his eyes locked on me, observing every furrow of my brow and heavy exhale of arousal, sinking two fingers inside me when I gripped him harder and stroked him faster as my pleasure built.

“Do you want to see, Brooke? How wet you are for me?” Sliding his fingers from me, he brought them to his mouth. Rather than suck, he pushed them between my lips. “How do you taste?”

My thoughts raced to keep pace with the frantic beating in my chest. Desire, raw and unbridled, pulsed through me like wildfire, consuming me. I’d never tasted myself, never had a man demand it, let alone talk about it. I whimpered, my senses heightened, and my heart ablaze.

An approving smile toyed on his lips before he sucked the fingers into his mouth. He groaned and thrust in my hand, releasing his fingers with a pop .

Leaning forward, he forced me to meet his gaze. His palm slid over my sternum, down my belly, and cupped my pussy. “You are constantly making it hard for me to behave when I’m with you.”

His fingertip dipped inside, dragging out to rub my clit. His other hand traced delicate patterns over my jawline as he studied my face. “I thought of you today. Such perverted and naughty thoughts. Touching you like this.” He inhaled sharply when I squeezed the crown of his cock, sliding my thumb along the sensitive underside. “ Fuck . You touching me like this.”

I squirmed and gasped, every intake of oxygen a struggle when my thighs trembled with the rolling thunder of my impending climax. “Liam,” I panted. “I’m…”

His forehead dropped to mine. His breath was just as unsteady as it rushed against my open mouth. One hand worked him; the other gripped his shoulder hard enough to leave marks.

“Beautiful, Brooke. Let me see you come. Let me hear you.” He pumped his fingers inside me. “Let me feel you.”

Our mouths hovered so close I was certain we would kiss, but he made no moves to bridge the small space between us. Panting and with a rough grunt, he shuddered his release into my fist, spilling on my belly. Shaking beneath his fingers, I followed soon after, crying out his name with a loud moan. His hand flew over my mouth to quiet me, and he reminded me that we had another roommate.

Our breath mingled in the air, and Liam sighed softly. I closed my eyes, wanting to memorize the sweet sound. In that moment, there was no past or future, no regrets or worries. Only contentment existed as we lay tangled together.

We cleaned up in silence, each of us taking turns in the bathroom, but he pulled me back into his room and beneath the blankets. Strong arms encircled me, and our bodies pressed tight. He caressed my hair as I fell asleep.

I woke with a start sometime later when Liam shook my shoulder. “Brooke,” he murmured sleepily. “Time to get up.” He silenced his phone alarm.

Aching with exhaustion, I reluctantly rolled out of bed, grateful he remembered to set an alarm on a day when I could not afford to be late. Rushing through a shower and coffee, I peeked into his room one last time before leaving for work.

One arm draped over his head, the other lay across his chest. Soft, hushed breath fanned from his slightly parted lips; his face relaxed as he slept peacefully. I didn’t think twice about tiptoeing into his room and leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Pride be damned. All bets were off.