Page 51 of That: Taylor & Brooks

Brooks let her hands go and gripped her knees, pressing them to her chest. He drove in deeper, giving her everything.

Taylor cried out, breath catching, nerves firing in every direction.

“Fuck,” she breathed, clutching the sheets as her body lost control.

Brooks grinned against her neck, hips grinding into her like he was carving himself into memory.

Taylor’s head fell back, lips parted in a silent scream.

“That’s it, sexy,” he murmured. “Let me have it.”

And she did. Her entire body convulsed, her thighs shivering, her mind blank. The pleasure hit so hard, so deep, it nearly took her home to glory.

Brooks cursed low as her body pulled him deeper, his release crashing into him like a freight train. Their bodies jerked, locked, unraveled together—lost in a pleasure that felt damn near spiritual.

The only sound in the room was their ragged breathing and the soft hum of the cars passing by.

Taylor lay spent, every nerve buzzing. Brooks hovered over her, pressing soft kisses to her forehead, the tenderness of it causing a tear to slide down her cheek. This man had just fucked her into oblivion and was now holding her like she was something precious.

She hated crying in front of people. Hated needing someone. But she needed this.

Being strong wasn’t the problem. It was never being allowed to be anything else.

Brooks was sticking around like none of that scared him.

She hadn’t meant for it to go this far.

But wasn’t that how it always started?

A late-night phone call, a soft laugh, a lingering look, and suddenly you’re finding your panties tangled in the sheets.

What was happening with Brooks felt natural. Too natural. And that’s what scared her most. Her mind was gone.

Chapter 13

November 29th

He didn’t expect forever, but he expected something. The silence gutted him more than he cared to admit. Two weeks. Fourteen damn days without a word from Taylor, and Brooks was losing his mind. Completely. Every day felt like a punch to the gut, a slow, agonizing descent into something he didn’t have the fucking patience for. Because what was the issue? He really wanted to know.

He wasn’t built for this. It was fucking with him. She’d gone completely ghost. And he’d let her.

This was why he never got attached. It was obvious he loved too damn hard. Because once he was in, he was all in, no half-measures, no exit strategy. Now, he was stuck in the mess of it, pacing the edges of something that felt too much like heartbreak.

The last night they’d spent together bounced around in his head looping in his mind like an old record that refused to skip. The way she’d trusted him, let him have all of her, no walls. How she’d trembled under his touch. Her body had given him everything before her mind could catch up. How she’d melted into him, let him worship her the way no man ever had. The way she deserved.

Now she was pretending the whole thing was just a moment. A glitch. Like they hadn’t shared somethingspectacular that night. He couldn’t forget how she looked at him with those big brown eyes and whispered,“I’ve never felt like this before.”He’d given her the best dick she’d ever had in life, and this was how she showed her gratitude.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

He was so confused. How do you go from cussing and calling his name to no contact? He was confused, close to feeling sadness. But he wasn’t ready to let his mind go to the end. He was having a hard time processing her absence, that’s all.

He knew better. He knew this could happen. But he proceeded anyway. And he should’ve let it be. Should’ve deleted her number. Should’ve buried whatever this was before it had a chance to take root, but he hadn’t and now he was living with the torture of being cut off.

Brooks ran a hand over his face, exhausted from the constant replay in his mind and jet lag. He’d given her space, thinking maybe she needed time to process. But two weeks of silence? That wasn’t processing. That was running. He wanted to call and tell on her ass, but he didn’t want to blow her spot up with his sister.

Denver’s skyline stretched out in front of him, the view from his penthouse suite damn near perfect. He should’ve been relaxing, enjoying the silence, focusing on business. Instead, he was agitated. Restless. Craving. The continuous staring at his phone, refreshing his screen like it might call her name was driving him insane.

Taylor had gotten under his skin in a way no woman ever had, and now he was sitting here questioning everything He wasn’t even mad at her. Hewas mad at himself for believing that he could be more than just a distraction from her divorce, more than just a wild night.

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