Page 61 of That: Taylor & Brooks

“I want to. Don’t waste your time counting my pockets. I’m not bragging, but I ain’t hurting for shit. Let me share that with you.”

She wanted to protest. But the way he looked at her, as if giving her nice things was his love language, made her resolve weaken.

“No problem,” she said softly, and was rewarded with a smile that made her heart skip.

“Good. I think you starting to get it bae,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her, morning breath be damned.

“Get what?”

“That I do what I want.”

“Yeah, I think I am,” she said rolling her eyes.

Brooks tickled her and brought her in close, placing a kiss on her lips.

What started as a gentle good morning kiss quickly turned heated, his hands sliding under night gown, finding her already warm and wet. Taylor sighed against his mouth as his fingers worked their magic, her body responding to his.

Her body arched.

“Brooks.”

His name tore from her throat as he pushed into her, her legs locking around his waist. “I’m so fuckin glad you here, Tay,” he whispered against her skin, and for the next hour, she screamed his name over and over until her voice was hoarse.

Two hours later, showered and fed, they stepped out into the crisp Denver air. Brooks had the car waiting for them and the driver nodded respectfully as theyapproached.

“You always travel like this?”

Brooks settled back, his arm stretching behind her claiming both the space and her in it. His eyes held hers, steady and unapologetic. “I built what I have to enjoy it exactly how I want.” His thumb brushed the bare skin of her shoulder, sending electricity down her spine.

She rolled her eyes, but the butterflies in her stomach didn’t get the memo that she was supposed to be playing it cool. “And where are we going today?”

“Wherever I decide to take you.” His smile was confident. “Trust me, you’re gonna love it.”

Taylor watched the city pass by through the windows, leaning into Brooks’. She’d never been to Denver before. She had barely traveled outside their hometown except for a few church conferences. This was all new, all exciting.

“First stop,” Brooks said, his phone buzzing with texts he answered with quick taps.

The car pulled up to a sleek building with no visible signage, just a discreet gold plaque reading “Atelier Privé.” A doorman appeared immediately, opening Taylor’s door with a respectful nod. “Mr. Bishop, Elise is expecting you.”

“What is this place?” Taylor whispered as Brooks guided her through doors that opened before they even reached them. She pushed her sunglasses on her head and touched the velvet walls in the hallway.

“Private showroom,” he replied, his hand warm against the small of her back. “I’m cashing in a favor.”

Inside was nothing like the department stores Taylor knew. This was not Ross or Burlington’s this wasthe look but don’t touch stuff. No racks of clothing, no shoppers, no long lines, or crying kids. Just elegant but edgy space, luxurious furnishings, and a stunning woman in all black who approached with a warm smile.

“Brooks, finally bringing someone special to see me,” she said, kissing his cheek before turning to Taylor.

“I’m Elise. We’ve pulled a few pieces I think will complement your beautiful skin tone and silhouette. She’s gorgeous, Brooks,” she sang.

Taylor smiled, but it wasn’t the smile he expected.

“Why you look like that?” he asked gently.

“Like what?”

“Like this is too much.”

She started to respond, but he cut her off—softly, but certain.

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