His For One Night. Sarah M. Anderson
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to hers she couldn’t help leaning into his touch, breathing in the clean scent of him—leather and man and, Lord, it was wonderful.
“I followed your career, watched your climb up the charts. Celebrated your number-one hits and cheered your award-show wins. Saw your face every night I closed my eyes,” he said, his voice soft as his breath brushed over her skin like a lover’s kiss. Her body clenched in an involuntary response to his touch, his words. His everything. “I tried so hard to forget you, but I couldn’t. And I’m so sorry.”
He wasn’t making any sense. He wasn’t. But damn it all if he wasn’t reminding her exactly why she’d taken him into her bed, because even when he was speaking in riddles he still made it sound so good—and feel even better. “Because you can’t forget me?”
“No.” He laughed a little. She looked deep into his eyes and saw unflinching honesty as he said, “I’ll never be sorry for that. But I looked you up and I realized, what if you’d looked me up, too? What if you read about the arrest and trial and plea deals? So I’m sorry for how you must’ve felt when you read the headlines. I’m sorry you saw the worst of me, playing out in real time on the internet. I’m sorry I destroyed a perfect memory of a perfect night, because that’s what you were to me. A perfect memory.”
She inhaled sharply, her eyes stinging even as she squeezed them tight. That was a very good line, one that was already weaving its way into the chorus her brain was trying to write.
“I came here tonight not to tell you I wanted you—although I do,” Flash went on. His other hand settled in the curve of her hip, gently pulling her into him and, weak as she was, she let him.
Her breasts brushed against his chest. “Then why?” she whispered, afraid of his answer even as she was desperate to hear it.
“I came here to tell you what happened after the headlines. After I got sentenced and suspended from the circuit, I did my community service and completed my anger management courses. I made a promise to myself and my family that I was going to rein in my anger and stop letting it rule me.”
“You did?” Somehow, her hand was underneath his jacket on his chest—not pushing him away but resting right over his heart. She could feel it beating, strong and steady.
He turned his head ever so slightly, his lips brushing against her temple, then down her cheek. “I also quit drinking. I won’t say I’m an alcoholic, but when I drank I couldn’t keep a handle on my anger, and that’s when I got into trouble. I’ve been sober for eight months and counting.”
“Tonight?” Her voice came out breathy and tight, and the space between her legs felt warm and liquid with want because she hadn’t had a man in her bed since him and she missed him.
No, no—she missed sex. Which was normal. She’d been cleared to resume her nonexistent sex life from the private OB/GYN—who her mother had made sign a nondisclosure form, HIPAA be damned—six weeks ago, as long as she used reliable birth control, and it had taken everything Brooke had not to laugh in the woman’s face.
So she didn’t necessarily miss this man. She just missed men in general.
Right.
“Ginger ale. In a beer glass.” Then he brushed his lips against hers, and she was powerless to do anything but open her mouth for him. When he licked inside her, she tasted sugar and ginger, not beer.
Pop shouldn’t be so seductive, but this was crazy. How did he know that was exactly what she needed to hear? How could he taste so good?
How could she still want him so damned much?
Because she did.
He broke the kiss but he didn’t pull away. Somehow, they were closer now and she could feel the heat of his erection pulsing against her belly. She could feel her pulse matching his, beat for beat.
“I want to see you again,” he murmured against her lips. Then his mouth was trailing over her cheek, toward her ear. “I need more than just one night, Brooke. But I won’t ask you for anything else.”
“Yes.” The word slipped out before she could think better of it, before the logistics of another night in Flash’s arms could rear their ugly head. She needed more from him, too.
“Where? Say the word and I’m there, babe. I’m anywhere you need me.” As he spoke, he pressed his knee between her legs, putting pressure right where she needed it. She couldn’t fight down the moan. God, it’d been so long since another person had touched her for pleasure. Her pleasure. “Just tell me you need me.”
“My house. I need...”
But reality reared its head.
Her mother was at her house, babysitting her son. Mom didn’t live with Brooke and Bean, but she did live in what the real estate agent had described as the mother-in-law house on the property, a completely separate building almost 250 yards away from the main house—close enough for baby emergencies, but not under the same roof.
However, if Brooke waltzed in with Flash on her arm, they’d never get to the bed. Mom and Flash—that was a scene Brooke wasn’t ready to face tonight. Maybe not ever.
“I need half an hour before you come over.” She could get Mom out of the house and give herself a chance to change her mind. Or at least make sure she had some condoms because she wasn’t going to make the exact same mistake again.
A honking horn tore through the night. Flash and Brooke jerked apart just as Kyle Morgan emerged from the back of the Bluebird. Guiltily Brooke glanced at the car, where Alex glared at her, then at Flash, then back at her.
Right. They had an audience and Flash had just kissed her, and she’d probably been about twenty seconds from completely throwing herself at him.
“Hey, Brooke—everything okay?” Kyle asked, sounding meaner than she’d ever heard him. “Where’s Alex?”
Flash took another step back. He looked at Brooke like he was waiting for her to lead here.
“In the car.” Kyle stopped next to her, eyeing Flash with a healthy dose of warning. “This is a friend of mine.”
“Great set tonight,” Flash said, cutting through the awkwardness and stretching his hand toward Kyle. “Flash Lawrence. Sounds like you had some big hits waiting to happen in there. Eric Church, maybe? He could bring down stadiums with that one song about rebels.”
Kyle glanced warily at Brooke before returning Flash’s handshake. “Thanks. Toby Keith was also eyeing ‘My One, Her Only’ for his next album.”
Flash whistled appreciatively and Brooke felt Kyle relax. How did he do that? Flash Lawrence could charm his way into any situation. She’d fallen for that charm once.
She couldn’t afford to fall again.
As Flash and Kyle made small talk about country singles and Flash offered his opinion on what played well at the rodeos, Brooke had to accept that somehow, Flash had known exactly what she needed to hear—that he wasn’t the same man he’d been when he’d made all those awful headlines. He’d worked on being a better man.
Had he become the kind of man she’d want around her son?
Except she wasn’t just a single mother thinking about dating again, and Bean wasn’t just her son. He was Flash’s son, too, and she couldn’t keep his baby away from him, no matter what. She knew what it was like to grow up without a father. She couldn’t do that to Bean. Not if Flash was willing to step up.
Was he?
“Well, it was great meeting you, Morgan,” Flash said, shaking Kyle’s hand again. “Looking forward to hearing your next big hit.”
Kyle actually blushed at that. “Always great to hear from a fan. Will we be seeing you again soon?” He held out his hand to Flash.
Brooke didn’t miss that we.
Flash