Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series (15 page)

“Okay.”

Brooke decided her assertiveness must have been truly acceptable because Drake took her hand and tugged her to the bed with him. Soon he was flat on his back and she was kneeling over his body trying to decide what she wanted to do first. Her long hair fell in a curtain as she kissed his shoulders and moved down his chest. When she felt his heartbeat pounding fiercely against her lips, she raised her head.

She was panting and walking the edge as badly as he was. “I don’t know how you do this to me. It doesn’t seem to matter if you’re touching me or I’m touching you. I get excited either way.”

Drake lifted a hand to her hair. “Must be that magic we make together.”

“Must be,” Brooke whispered back, lowering her body to his as she bent to kiss him more fully.

In the midst of her mind spinning out of control again, Drake was suddenly all kisses and strokes and sexy whispers of praise. Doing her best to ignore the growing tension, she groped the nightstand, trying to reach the drawer. Drake paused his kissing, reached over, and pulled it out for her. Reaching into it, he quickly found what she had been looking for and laid the packet in the middle of her chest as he kissed his way around it.

“Who’s doing the honors?” he asked.

“
Me
,” Brooke volunteered, choking on the answer as Drake’s teeth nipped and tugged on her flesh.

“Warm it in your hands first. It will be better for both of us,” he whispered.

To help, he lifted both her hands over her head and put the condom wrapper between them before pressing them together. “There. You do that. I have other things to attend to.”

With the packet caught between her palms, Brooke pressed them together. Drake’s mouth closed over a rigid nipple. His fingers slid between her legs and stroked her thighs.

“Oh God…I can’t handle much of that. I’m too far gone. Please… I want you inside me.”

She brought the warmed-up condom down and tore it open with shaking hands while Drake shook his head against her breast. Instead of slipping inside though, his fingers lightly grazed everything between her legs. She was shaking hard by the time he finally lifted his mouth.

“Drake. Get up here—
now
. I can’t wait anymore.”

Chuckling at her barked out orders, Drake obediently pushed up to his knees and presented himself to let her roll the condom on him. She was already spreading her legs wider as he slid back down. He rocked gently as he entered her, slowly gaining ground while she arched trying to rush him.

“Drake…you’re driving me crazy.”

Suddenly her commanding lover from before reappeared. He pinned her wrists to the bed with strong hands while his mouth sought the breast he hadn’t tortured yet. Her screaming his name as he increased his thrusting pace and depth for her benefit was beyond her control to stop from happening. The pleasure Drake caused was all-consuming. The orgasm he caused rolled on forever, ebbing and flowing with his every decisive thrust. It was the most glorious release she’d ever experienced with a man.

Just as she was floating down he let go of her breast and moved to her mouth, nibbling and kissing her lips. He moved slowly inside her now, easily finding a gentle rhythm that wouldn’t drive her climax-sensitized body insane. Her wide-eyed gaze was fixed on him as he kissed her gently but thoroughly. The man inside her now was hell and far from the anxious, hit-or-miss younger versions she had known before him.

She watched his face raptly. She could tell he was getting close by the way his breath started to hitch on every slow plunge.

“Do it however you need to. Don’t spare me,” she ordered sharply. She wrestled free of his grip and fisted both hands in his hair to hold his face where she could see him. “I want to watch when you hit the same high note I just did. Do not hold back with me.”

Her words tripped the switch she hoped they would. Drake closed his eyes in relief as he went over the edge. His slow, non-aggressive thrusts as he finished were like music notes fading off smoothly at the end of a song.

Brooke felt the smile on her face growing even wider. Her giggle about how great Drake was at lovemaking had him opening his now sleepy eyes to glare at her.

“What’s so damn funny this time, Dr. Daniels?”

“I just realized you’re the first man I have ever cared about pleasuring. I think I’ve been a selfish lover until this very moment. It was just as satisfying to see it happen for you as it was to have you give that pleasure to me.”

Drake kissed her cheeks and her chin. “That’s the nicest, most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard from a lover. Thank you. I’m glad you like my lovemaking.”

“I can see I’ll have to brush up on my poetry if we keep doing this.”

Drake settled himself over Brooke, content in a way he’d forgotten he could be. She played with his hair, and he felt himself twitch inside her. She was exciting, but she was also welcoming. He wanted to show her real intimacy, and they were off to a great start.

“Do you want to get up now and grade papers for a while?”

Brooke snorted. “No—I want to lie here with a sexy man draped over me like a blanket. In a few minutes though, I may send you out to microwave the pizza. I’m still hungry.”

Drake laughed at her confession and tucked his face into her throat. Not knowing what regrets might spawn in her brain before morning, he tilted his mouth down to one soft shoulder. “Me too. I’m absolutely starved,” he declared, sucking on the tender skin there, reveling in her moans as he palmed her breast and thumbed her nipple back to life.

After the pizza was gone, he knew exactly what he wanted for dessert.

Chapter 12

“Hello. We’re here,” Brooke called out, opening the unlocked door to let the three of them inside.

“Welcome. Pancakes are almost done,” Jessica called, hustling to greet her daughter and the guests she was delighted to see.

“Oh wow coffee. Thanks, Mom,” Brooke said, reaching out only to have her very tall mother move it far above her head.

“No—this is not for you. It’s for Drake. There’s plenty in the kitchen. Shane is manning the coffeemaker. I want to monopolize your breakfast date for a few minutes, so I brought his coffee and mine.”

Her mother handed Drake the coffee and hustled him off to the sun porch with her, where evidently the adults were gathering to eat on the plastic lawn furniture from her mother’s old house.

“Well, I love you too, Mom,” Brooke grumbled, but grinned when Drake blushed at receiving her mother’s full attention.

She barely held back the giggle threatening to erupt. Drake still was uncomfortable with her mother knowing they were sleeping together.

She shook her head at the two of them walking off. “Never mind me. I’m just your daughter.” Her words and long-suffering sigh made Brandon laugh as they trailed through to the kitchen area.

Brooke looked at the framing Joseph had done when he’d removed the wall. It was still bare boards overhead and down the sides, but the view of the pancake chefs was no longer blocked from those seated at the dining room table. A mass of kids huddled around the long, expandable surface, which was reduced to seat eight this morning. She ducked her head to hide her grin when she saw Brandon take the seat right next to Chelsea, who didn’t look up because she was on her phone. The girl was playing it cool. But if Brandon’s reaction was any indication, the ploy was working like a charm.

Ignoring the other general ruckus among Shane and Reesa’s now legal children, she walked into the kitchen to get coffee. She was ignored by him too because her stepbrother had his eyes glued to his wife’s tight-jeaned ass as she manned one of the two pancake skillets and chatted with Will.

Grinning, she punched Shane in the side. “Can you unglue your eyes long enough to pour me a cup of coffee?”

She laughed when Shane nodded absently and hurriedly filled a cup. Good thing she took it black because he was back to watching Reese’s backside again before the cup was even in her hands. “You’re pathetic. Do you know that?”

Shane shook his head. “I’m waiting for the dance.”

Brooke chuckled around her coffee. “The what?”

She giggled when Shane put a finger to his lips.

“Shush…just watch. When the pancakes are done, Reesa always does a happy dance.”

“Hey Sara—I’m ready,” Reesa called, turning her head to the dining table.

Squealing in joy, the little girl jumped up from her chair and flew past Brooke into the kitchen. Brooke held her coffee cup up in the air to keep it from being knocked from her hand. Once in the kitchen, Sara instantly broke out in a loud off-key song, gyrating her hips and pistoning her arms as she sang. Reesa twisted and swung her own hips from side-to-side as she sang along, triumphantly sliding her last grilled pancake onto a plate.

Beside her, Shane crossed his arms and smiled. His sheer happiness with the dancing woman and child choked her up. She lowered her coffee, fighting the urge to cry.

“You humble me and that’s a damn hard thing to do,” Brooke said sharply.

Sara stopped dancing and swung on her as she gasped. “Aaahhhh…you said an ugly word.”

Brooke laughed. “Yes I did and I’m sorry.” She took another sip of her coffee.

“Don’t do it again. Papaw Will is king here and he doesn’t allow ugly words in his house,” Sara chastised.

Brooke nodded, forcing herself not to laugh. She had heard Will swear at her mother plenty of times. But she appreciated the child thought he didn’t. She wasn’t going to burst any illusions.

“I’m sorry, Princess Sara. I won’t do it again,” Brooke promised, after forcing a hot sip of coffee down her throat. She turned to glance up at Shane’s surprisingly serious gaze. “I think I’m going out to the sun porch where the rest of the adults are. I’d like to drink the rest of this without choking on it…or my pride.”

“Smart woman,” Shane agreed, but put his hand on Brooke’s shoulder before she retreated. “Wait. How are you doing? I mean really doing. I saw you brought company this morning. That’s new.”

Brooke nodded. “I know. I’m doing fine…and Drake’s doing fine. Brandon is still a sweetie.”

Shane’s gaze searched her face until she grew uncomfortable. The man was scary good at reading people.

“Drake and I are working things out. I’m getting okay with him.”

“Getting okay with him…hmm…interesting,” Shane said. He lifted the coffee pot and topped off her cup to keep her there a bit longer. “Not a very poetic description for falling in love, especially from an erudite professor of philosophy.”

Brooke rolled her eyes at Shane’s faux praise. “If you want poetry, you’re talking to the wrong half of the couple. Drake is the poet. I don’t think he can help himself.”

“Is he a bad one or a good one?”

Brooke giggled at the question. “I don’t know. A pretty good one I guess. Why?”

Shane smiled, then heard his name being shouted from the kid’s table. His family wanted him to come eat. He bent and kissed his stepsister’s forehead. “I’m being summoned. Take care of yourself. I see something in your eyes that worries me. Don’t flinch…I just wanted you to know I’m here if you want to talk about it…whatever it is.”

Brooke didn’t reply…couldn’t reply…as Shane patted her arm and left. She passed by the kids’ table and wondered if the cheery, domestic scene would ever have one of her children in it one day.

Watching her mother get rid of every man she ever dated over the years, she had learned to never let herself hope for brothers or sisters. Instead, Brooke had vowed she’d have two or three one day herself so her child would not have to grow up alone. But now…was that future even going to be a possibility for her?

She walked out to the sun porch and the first thing she noticed was Michael showing off Carrie’s growing belly to a smiling Drake. She took a drink of her coffee and suddenly wished with everything in her that there was some of Drake’s cognac in it. She was having major envy of both of stepbrothers’ relationships. Of course, neither of their wives were facing the possibility of a time bomb ticking inside their bodies.

Shoving her self-pity ruthlessly aside, she continued forward and wedged herself into the plastic chair purposely left vacant for her between her mother and the man she’d brought to the Larson family breakfast. Drake turned and looked at her as she slid into the seat, concern in his gaze.

“You look upset. Did you and Shane get into a fight?” he asked.

Brooke snorted. “Nothing outside the usual. I said something way off base to him and he humbled me almost immediately, which he typically does. I apologized profusely, though I did get into trouble when I swore in front of Princess Sara. I was informed that Papaw Will did not allow such talk in his house.”

“Sounds just like my typical exchange with Dr. Larson. I swing from patent disbelief to incredulous acceptance of the improbable in nearly every discussion,” Drake said, putting an arm around the back her chair.

Brooke laughed. “Oh, how I wish Shane could hear you talk that way.”

“What way?” Drake demanded.

Giggling, Brooke reached over and patted his leg. “Like a poet…a very good one.”

Drake arched an eyebrow at her comment, but turned his attention back to Michael as she put pancakes on her plate. Then she was suddenly on autopilot prepping her food, her ears still tuned to the laughter at the children’s table. It was painful to look at Carrie’s small belly bump, so she kept her gaze fixed on her pancakes.

She began eating, then felt her mother’s penetrating stare.

“What’s wrong, Brooke?”

Knowing her mother wouldn’t give up until she had made some sort of answer, Brooke laid down her fork and put her hand on her mother’s arm. Her time had run out.

“Tell your mother radar it’s okay for now. Can I eat breakfast in peace if I promise to come see you and talk about it soon?”

She watched the war going on in her mother’s gaze before moving hers to Will’s. It was obvious her stepfather had heard what she said.

“Looks like you survived your first semester at UK,” Will stated, his gaze on his wife as he tried to change the subject.