“Remy,” I breathe out.
“I was right, Brooke,” he adds in a deep, raspy whisper, holding me entranced with his words, his liquid gaze. “When I told you about me, you still wanted me. And I’ve been in love with you for I don’t know how long. Ever since you tried to knock me down in the ring, and I ended up putting your little feet against my stomach to warm them. Jesus, when I saw that photograph of you and Scorpion I wanted to kill him. I wanted to give you whatever it was that had made you go to that f**king ass**le and kiss his f**king face! I wanted to give that to you, so you would kiss mine instead.
“I went to him, and he was waiting. Of course he was. He knew I’d come. He saw me at the club. I’ve never been protective of a woman before. He saw me get out of the ring for you when I was disqualified. He knows you’re my weak spot. We had a go at it, and he was crying like a goddamned weenie. He wanted me to stop. I wasn’t planning to until I’d knocked out his f**king teeth. But he offered your sister if I quelled it and gave away the championship. He was done with her. She was restless since she’d seen you, and he wanted no trouble. She was watching us fight, crying. I asked her if she was your Nora, and she said yes. So I said yes. I got it on paper, called Pete to secure her, and it was done. She would be released once it was over.” He drags in a breath, then scrapes a hand down his face as he sighs. “It’s the first time I did something right when I was … not at optimal.”
Leaning to me, he drags his nose along my temple, and a tremor of heat slips down my spine as he whispers close to my ear.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but it had to happen like this. When I told you I wouldn’t let you leave me the night I made love to you, I meant it. I want you, Brooke, for me. I can hurt you, I can do stupid shit, but I…” His stare galvanizes me. “I’m so f**king in love with you I don’t even know what to do with myself anymore.”
The knot is at massive proportions in my throat, and I’m nodding as I wipe my tears, unable to tell him how much and how crazily I have fallen in love with him.
He makes me feel so good. He puts on my music. Runs with me. Kisses and touches me. Licks me deliciously. Gets all sexy jealous over me. He’s grumpy one day and cocky the next, and I love all sides of him. He looks at me with his blue eyes or black eyes, and every time he does, I just know I’m right where I want to be.
“You’re going to want to leave me again,” he whispers, tenderly, as he cups my jaw. “You can’t, Brooke, you can’t leave. You’re mine.”
He strokes his other hand down my hair and I turn into his hand like a kitten again, seeking more of his petting.
“You’ve claimed me, little firecracker. You kicked a pair of two hundred pound men’s asses. I will never get over that. You kicked my whores out. Pete told me. You staked your claim on me, even before you realized I’d staked mine already.” He fists my hair and pulls me close to his lips. “I’m yours now, and you can’t ditch me like you just did. Even if I screw this up, I’ll still be your screw-up.”
I need him close, so I press my body to his as I drape my arms around his neck, his sweat slicking deliciously into me. “Not my screw-up. My real.”
He groans a male sound as he turns his head and licks my cheek. The heart-melting realization that my lion is back unravels me, and I feel myself sinking into his arms as he drags his lips down. He slowly, wetly, licks my jaw. My chin. And then … my lips. I think he feels my shudder against him, for he slips his hands around my lower back and draws me protectively against his frame. He licks his way into my warm mouth, with soft, probing licks, until I’m open and gasping, letting him have his delicious way with me.
“Don’t f**king leave me ever again,” he murmurs, his tongue retreating to trace my top lip, my bottom, then pushing deeply inside me as he spreads his hands along my ass and squeezes me possessively.
I’m drunk. The sensations his kiss and licks bring me are deep, and they tremble in my core like consecutive earthquakes, each one bigger than the last.
I rub my ni**les on his massive chest, and my sex throbs to feel him inside me. He looks so sexy in his exercise clothes, drives me so wild with the way he smells when he works out, I want to strip him. Take him.
“I’ve got about a thousand songs in a new playlist that says ‘Brooke,’ all about me missing you, loving you, hating, and adoring you,” he rasps as I feel him reach under my dress for my panties.
This is exactly why I wore a dress, and in record time, I’ve pulled it off me until I’m in my bra and Remy has successfully pulled my panties off both legs.
“I’ve got some too, I want to spend all day putting them to you,” I whisper.
He hauls me back, na**d on his lap, taking my mouth again. He has me so wound up with his kisses, I’m afraid I’m going to cl**ax the instant he thrusts inside me.
Oh, god, I need it so bad, I don’t even realize I’m curling my legs to straddle him, rubbing myself over his hard-on. I want it. Inside me. I want him so fiercely I can’t stop trembling. “I love you,” I breathe.
It’s incredible. I lived my entire life without him, but we made this crazy connection, and I just feel empty without him.
He drugs me with another kiss as I undulate my body against his, teased with his hardness, his hot mouth, his groans. He’s making me want him in the wildest, most intense ways. He pulls free, reaching into his running shorts.
“I want to play you Avril Lavigne’s ‘I Love You’ again,” I say as he tries pushing them off without sacrificing my spot on his lap.