Bidding on Brooks: The Winslow Brothers #1 (15 page)

“Sounds good,” she said, matching his smile.

He leaned forward and kissed her lips quickly, then drew back and winked before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. Her smile faded as she stared at the door, wondering yet again what was hurting Brooks, determined to get to the bottom of it the moment he let her in.

***

They feasted on tacos and cold Coronas at a Mexican place, and Skye made his blood race when she pushed the lime into the bottle, covered the top with her thumb, flipped it upside down, then sucked her thumb into her mouth before taking a long swig of beer. Damn, she was just naturally, effortlessly sexy.

It pissed him off a little that he’d been blind to it for so long.

It made him grateful that his eyes had finally been opened.

It tortured him that he couldn’t have her for longer than this week.

Visiting several hokey, but cheerful, little shops, he bought her a silver bracelet with tiny seashells, slipping it into his pocket before she turned his way. He didn’t know when he’d give it to her, but something about it reminded him of the anklet she wore, and he wanted to give her something to remind her of
Zephyrland
and of him when both were just memories.

As the late-afternoon sun warmed their skin, they strolled the maze of docks hand-in-hand, checking out the boats with keen eyes and talking in depth about which features they liked and didn’t like, building the perfect boat during the course of conversation. When they finally found it—a sleek, monohulled yacht moored at the end of the eighth dock they strolled upon—they laughed and high-fived.

“It does exist!” exclaimed Brooks, pulling Skye into his arms for a deep, lingering kiss that made his whole body harden.

She locked her eyes with his as he drew away, and whispered, “I love this.”

“Me too,” he breathed, drinking in the sight of her open, upturned face and dropping his lips to hers again.

She was limp and breathless when he finished kissing her, her body leaning into his, her breathing deliberate and ragged.

“Let’s go back to the
Zephyr
,” she said.

“Mm-hm,” he agreed, his voice as low with desire. “Good idea.”

He took her hand again, entwining his fingers with hers and smiling down at her lovely face before turning them back toward dock three.

For the next few hours he wasn’t going to think about his health or his future, he was just going to live in the moment. If she’d let him, he’d kiss every inch of her body. He was going to let himself sink into the feeling of being with someone he cared for. He was going to enjoy every second of
Zephyrland
, and nothing—no,
nothing
—was going to get in his way.

“Brooks!”

As they ambled hand in hand toward the
Zephyr
, Brooks heard his little sister’s familiar voice, and his head snapped up to find Jessica and Alex standing on deck, his sister’s smile brilliant as her eyes slipped to his hand holding Skye’s.

“Jess? What the heck are you doing here?”

Skye tried to wiggle her hand away as they approached, but Brooks wasn’t having it. If he was going to be temporarily deprived of her body, he certainly wasn’t going to let go of her hand. He tightened his grip to tell her he was comfortable with their new status, and she relaxed.

“We came for dinner! Alex had business in Raleigh this morning and we thought…why not check on Brooks and Skye? So, we rented a helicopter for the day and here we are!” Jessica jumped off the deck onto the dock and nodded approvingly, her victorious smile beyond annoying. “You two look…
happy
.”

“Who are you? Guy Hunter’s new helper?”

Jessica giggled, leaning up to kiss her brother’s cheek then Skye’s.

Brooks flicked a glance to Alex English, who stood on the
Zephyr
’s deck with a “Sorry, Man” wince on his face. Alex, who’d once been a notorious playboy before curbing his ways for Jessica, recognized an interrupted tryst when he saw one. Hell, Brooks doubted his face could look more unwelcoming, but damn it, he and Skye were about to spend the afternoon and evening making out. The last thing he wanted to do was visit with his sister and her fiancé. Did that make him an asshole?

“Jessie,” said Alex gently, swinging under the deck railing and landing smoothly on the wood planks to join Jessica. “Maybe we should have called.”

“Nonsense!” said Jessica, still grinning at her brother. She shifted her eyes to Skye. “How’s he treating you, Skye?”

Brooks looked down at Skye’s flushed face. “F-Fine. Thanks.”

“Glad to hear it! Alex and I thought we’d take you two out to dinner tonight.”

Conceding defeat, Brooks sighed. He and Skye were going to have to wait…but after dinner? He’d throw Jess in the harbor if she tried to cock-block him again. And that was a promise.

***

“You like her,” said Jessica, nudging her oldest brother in the hip as she and Brooks stood outside the restaurant after dinner. Skye was using the ladies’ room, and Alex had gone next door to get Jessica a soft serve vanilla ice cream cone. Aside from the fact that Brooks was literally aching to be alone with Skye, it had been a perfectly enjoyable dinner. “A lot. More than I’ve ever seen you like someone.”

“It’s no good, Jess,” he said softly.

“What? Why not? She’s nice. She’s fun. She loves sailing. Don’t mess this up! She’s
good
for you, Brooks.”

“But I’m not good for her.”

“What do you mean? You’re one of the best men I know,” said Jessica, placing her hand on Brooks’ arm, and forcing him to face her. “Why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“Jess, Dad died when I was seventeen. Why? Why did he drop dead? There was nothing wrong with him. I’ve talked to Mom. His heart attack came out of nowhere.”

Jessica grimaced. “But we have regular screenings. We just went to Dr. Dryer. All five of us.”

“And Dad went to Dr. Fiorello. Just before it happened.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’ll be forty in five years.”

“Brooks!” exclaimed Jessica, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” he murmured, holding his little sister’s eyes.

She flinched, her fingers grasping his forearm tightly. “No! You’re young and healthy. You have decades of life ahead.”

“Do I?” he asked, an edge in his voice. “I bet Dad thought the same thing.”

“I can’t believe this. Are you…
serious
? You honestly believe you’re going to drop dead of a heart attack in the next five years?”

“I don’t know. But you don’t remember like I do, Jess. I saw what Dad left behind, and I’m not doing that to someone else.”

“Brooks, no.” She sighed, tears brightening her eyes. “You break my heart.”

He pulled her into his arms, rubbing her back as he had when she was a little girl with a skinned knee. “Can’t you see? I don’t
want
to hurt anyone. I don’t want to leave behind a wife and kids. I—”

“The only one you’re hurting is yourself,” she whispered sharply.

“Wow, you two are being super emo,” said Alex from behind Brooks. “Everything okay?”

Jessica sniffled then nodded, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” said Alex, handing her the ice cream and cupping her cheek with his hand. His worried eyes scanned her face. “You’re crying. What’s going on, Jess? Are you okay?”

“I just… yeah,” she said, managing a smile. “Brooks just told me something sad. Family stuff.”

Alex put his arm around Jess and drew her against his side as she balefully licked her ice cream. He looked up at Brooks, sour-faced. “Quit upsetting my fiancée, huh?”

And Brooks had to admit it, for just a second, he was jealous of Alex English standing there so strong and healthy, his arm around the woman he loved, the woman he was going to marry and have babies with, and grow old beside.

“Ready to go?” asked Skye, exiting from the restaurant, a cheerful smile lighting up her pretty face.

Brooks turned to her, basking in her presence, determined to enjoy what little time he had left with her this week and not let his fears take that away from him, too. “Yeah.”

“Goodnight,” said Skye, smiling at Alex and Jessica. “Thanks for dinner.”

Jessica’s sad eyes lingered on Brooks’ face for an extra second before she looked at Skye and nodded. She looked a little dazed, like she was deep in thought and surprised to find Skye suddenly in front of her. “Oh our pleasure. Thanks for…”

“…for letting us barge in on your cruise,” said Alex quickly, slapping Brooks on the back with a wink. “Come on, Jess. Chopper’s ready and waiting to take us back to Raleigh.”

Brooks nodded at his future brother-in-law gratefully, kissed Jessica quickly, then grabbed Skye’s hand, walking back toward dock three.

“That was fun. Jess and Alex are great,” said Skye.

“They are,” said Brooks, trying desperately to push his conversation with Jessica to the back of his mind and stay in the moment. He squeezed Skye’s fingers tighter as they approached the
Zephyr
, walking quietly and a little more slowly, until they stood on the dock beside the bobbing Cutter.

Brooks looked down at Skye, his free hand cupping her cheek in the moonlight just as Alex had cupped Jess’.

“You’re
so
beautiful.”

“I like you, Brooks,” she whispered. “So much.”

“We’ve always liked each other,” he said.

She shook her head. “No. Not like that. Not like a friend. It’s changing. It’s growing. I can’t help it.”

“What about
Zephyrland
?”

“
Zephyrland
is temporary.” She wet her lips, her eyes searching his.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Is that what you want?” she murmured. “Something temporary?”

This girl—this amazing, beautiful girl was standing before him, asking if all he wanted with her was a fling. And his heart ached, because being with her was so much more than a fling, but he couldn’t offer her anything long-term. It simply wouldn’t be fair.

“I like you, too,” he said, looking into her eyes. “So much it hurts, Skye. So much more than I ever thought possible…” He winced, hating the next words that had to come out of his mouth. “But after this week, I can only offer you friendship. I can’t offer you anything else.”

She flinched, sucking in an audible breath. “Why? Is there something I don’t know? Are you… are you married? Are you—”

“No, Skye,” he said gently, the pad of his thumb stroking her soft skin, “nothing like that.”

“Our lives are really different,” she said softly, her voice breaking. “We wouldn’t mesh, would we?”

“Aw, skip,” he said gently, putting a finger under her chin to tilt her face up to his. “We’d mesh. We
already
mesh.”

“Then
why
?” she asked.

And he considered telling her the truth. He really considered saying,
My father died of an unexplained heart attack when he was forty and as forty looms closer, I’m scared it’ll happen to me. I can’t fall in love. I can’t offer you anything real. I might not be here tomorrow.
But he knew the size of Skye’s heart, and he was scared, looking into her glistening blue eyes, that she’d say,
That’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ll risk it.
And thinking of his mother’s lonely, devastated life after his father passed away, it simply wasn’t a risk he was willing to let her take. He cared for her way too much to willfully lead her down a path of suffering.

He reached for her hand and lifted it, placing it over his heart—his treacherous, time-bomb of a heart. “If I could, I’d stick around as long as you’d let me…but I can’t. I’m so sorry I can’t.”

She didn’t pull her hand away. In fact, her eyes softened as she took a step closer to him. “If you’d let me in, maybe I could help.”

It has no name, this silent killer lurking inside of me.

He shook his head. “You can’t. No one can.”

She searched his eyes, then nodded. “So all we have is this week?”

“I’m afraid so,” he whispered.

“Then
Zephyrland
it is,” she said softly, taking a deep breath and pulling him up onto the deck with her.

Skye’s heart was hurting as she made her way down the deck and opened the hatch. She dropped Brooks’ hand to step down the narrow stairs. She wanted much more than a few days with Brooks—she wanted this to be a beginning, and what she saw in his eyes
wasn’t
temporary, fleeting, or shallow. In his face, she saw the same emotions she herself was feeling: realization, tenderness, arousal, fear…the first stirrings of love. She saw it all, which is why his refusal to look beyond this week confused her. He wouldn’t
let
himself consider a future with her, even though he cared for her. Even though he might be falling in love with her.

Love is a risk
, she thought,
isn’t it?

Love is a terrible risk even in the best of circumstances, so she forgave Brooks his hesitation and led the way forward.  Despite the fact that he offered her nothing beyond
Zephyrland
, she had seen the truth in his eyes and decided to trust him, to trust
them
, and whatever was growing by leaps and bounds between them. And if that made Skye Sorenson a fool, then so be it. At least she wouldn’t regret letting the possibility of love, in all of its grit and glory, pass her by.

And, of course, there was this, too:

Her body—which had maintained hot, quiet fantasies of Brooks Winslow for most of her teen years and adult life—wasn’t about to walk away from the chance to be with him. To touch him, to kiss him, to feel his body pressed against hers. She wouldn’t deny herself five days in his arms. Even if they said goodbye on Sunday, she wouldn’t invite regret then by pushing him away now. If a week was all he could offer, then that’s what she would accept. And hey, she would have lifetime to put the pieces of her broken heart back together.

She took a deep breath as she walked through the door of their bedroom, which looked much smaller and more intimate suddenly. She turned to look at him standing in the doorway, his eyes wide and dark as he stared at her.

“We only have five nights,” she said, taking a step toward him and reaching for the button on the top of his long-sleeved cotton button-down shirt. She popped it open, letting her fingers slide down the skin of his throat to the next button.

“Yes,” he murmured, his eyes transfixed on hers as his chest pushed more and more deliberately against her fingers with every button she opened.

“I’m not promising everything…” She wetted her lips as button number four popped open. Her fingers trailed lightly over his skin and he groaned softly. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” he said, his voice breathless and low. “I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable doing, Skye.”

Feeling Brooks’ body inside of hers? Being joined together that intimately? She ached for it, she wanted it so much. But she didn’t know how to walk away from him in five days if she shared that part of herself with him. If she could never revisit the experience, she wasn’t sure she wanted those memories torturing her for the rest of her life. The only way to protect herself was…

“… to hold something back,” she whispered, looking up at him. And even though her sentence fragment made no sense, he seemed to understand, his eyes caressing her face tenderly.

“I know.” He nodded, his voice soft and sorry.

She smoothed her fingers up his arms and pushed the shirt from his shoulders. He shrugged and it slipped down his arms to the floor.

The light filtering in from the docks outside had an effect like candlelight in the small room, warm and soft, and Skye reached out to flatten her hands on his tan, hard chest. His heart thundered under her right palm, and she bent her neck back to look up at him. His brows furrowed for just a moment, his breathing audible in her ears as his eyes searched hers.

“You’ve been honest with me about what you can offer,” she said gently. “Don’t overthink it.”

He took a deep, ragged breath, dropping his hands to the hem of her polo shirt and flipping it over her head, running his hands from her shoulders down her back. His fingers paused at her bra, and he looked into her eyes. She stared back at him, neither giving permission nor protesting, and he flicked the clasp open with two fingers.

His choice made her hidden muscles clench with desire and she whimpered softly as he smoothed the straps down her arms, the lingerie falling to the ground with a whisper, leaving her chest bare to him for the first time. He didn’t look down at her breasts. Instead, he held her eyes. His fingers tightened on her hips and he pulled her against him, her warm breasts flattening against his chest. Their contact finally intimate, he groaned softly, staring at her with equal parts wonder and desire, before dropping his lips to hers.

***

Part of him was surprised that Skye had taken the lead once they returned to the
Zephyr
, but
all
of him was taut with arousal, and though he hated that he wasn’t able to offer her better than a five-day fling, he couldn’t imagine pushing her away if
Zephyrland
was still on the table.

She’d worn her hair down to dinner and he trailed his fingers up the sun-kissed skin of her back and plunged his hands into her hair, his palms cupping her head. Her breasts pushed into his chest, the tight points of her nipples making him harder by the second, even though she had basically taken sex off the table. His tongue sliding deliberately against hers found a rhythm, a cadence, and she arched her back, pressing against him. He moved his hands to her perfect ass and lifted her easily, her arms already anchored around his neck and her legs locking around his back.

Turning around, he backed up against her bed and sat down with her straddling him intimately, his concealed erection cradled against the khaki of her shorts and pressing against her hidden heat. She leaned back a little, testing the strength of his arms that held her tightly, arching her back and pressing her breasts against his chest. He dropped his lips to her throat, trailing them lightly against the coconut sweetness of her skin, nipping and sucking, finally reaching the hollow at the base of her throat where he rested for a moment.

“Brooks,” she whispered in a breathy, ragged voice, leaning back a little more, until her breasts weren’t pressed against him, but upturned, with pretty pebbled nipples he was dying to taste.

“You tell me when we stop, skip. Until then, I’m going to keep going,” he murmured, flicking his tongue around one stiff peak, and then its twin.

When she didn’t say anything, he picked her up off his lap and twisted with her in his arms, laying her flat on her bed. Her blonde hair spread out on the pillow like a halo and her eyes were dark blue and heavy. She panted lightly, then ran her tongue along the seam of her lips, which was Brooks’ undoing.

Gently nudging her legs apart, he knelt between her knees and leaned over her body. He covered one breast with his palm, rubbing her nipple as he slid his hand slowly away and sucked the beaded point between his lips.

“Ah,” she whimpered, her back arching to deliver her taut skin into his mouth.

His tongue circled the puckered flesh, sucking it gently then firmly, loving her responsiveness—how her fingers fisted in the sheets and little noises form the back of her throat filled the otherwise quiet of the small cabin.

He licked her once more, then focused his attentions on her other breast, his fingers rolling her slick nipple gently as he flicked his tongue over its twin. Her fingers shifted from the sheets, plunging into his hair, her nails razing his scalp as her back lifted off the bed. And it was so hot, so incredibly arousing, Brooks slid up her half naked body and rested his weight on her, cupping her cheeks and demanding her lips again.

He could feel the erect, damp buds straining against his chest, his own erection straining through his boxers and shorts, pushing into her thighs. She kissed him back madly, her knees bent to cradle him, her spine arched off the bed.

She was sweet and genuine, honest and hot, and Brooks couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with someone he cared about or who cared about him. He’d forgotten that touching someone, being invited into their personal, sacred space, could be so emotional, so visceral, make him feel so hungry and yet so satisfied. Her coconut sunblock smell surrounded him like a spell, and the sweetness of her skin was a drug. She was everything he wanted. Everything he wished he could have.

Sliding his lips down her cheek with tiny kisses, he bit her earlobe, which elicited a gasp from her, her hands smoothing down his back and slipping into the waistband of his shorts. Flattening on his ass, her fingers squeezed, spreading his cheeks just a little, and the gathering—the incredible, increasing pressure just above his dick—tripled, making him thrust against her, wanting to feel
all
of her. He traced the shell of her ear, letting his warm breath fall over the trail of kisses and licks, and she shivered, gasping lightly.

“Brooks,” she whispered, her voice breathy, her chest heaving into his with every deep breath.

“What, skip?” he murmured, nuzzling the soft, warm skin of her throat.

“I think…Oh, God. Brooks?”

“What, baby?”

His tongue darted out, licking her strong pulse, then kissing it reverently. Her heart was strong and healthy, and God willing, she’d live to be one hundred.

“I think we should stop,” she finally gasped, sliding her hands slowly out of his pants and resting them lightly on his lower back.

Wait. What? Stop? No! No, no, no! No stopping! More, Skye! I want more!

“Uh, stop?”

“Mm-hm,” she breathed, sobbing softly, a sound of frustration, not sadness. “I think we should stop…um, slow down.”

He exhaled, resting his forehead against her collarbone, but bending his knees to move. “Are you, uh, sure?”

Yes, there was a begging quality to his voice, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t ever remember wanting someone as much as he wanted Skye. He had to make sure her decision was firm.

“I’m sure.”

He knelt up and she closed her legs to make room for him beside her. He rolled onto his back beside her and they both panted softly, side-by-side, staring at the hypnotic watery reflections on the ceiling.

She took a deep breath and exhaled on a “whoa” sound, and despite the pain in his pants, he grinned, turning his head to look at her.

“That was amazing,” he whispered, afraid to break whatever wonderful spell they were under.

“It was,” she agreed. She looked over at him, then shifted to her side, glancing down at her bare breasts before giving him a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

He rolled to his side too, mirroring her, reaching out to smooth the blonde hair from her face. “Don’t say sorry. You make me happy.”

Her lips tilted up, but her eyes retained some sadness from their earlier discussion. “You make me…” She wet her lips and dropped his eyes, looking down at the thin strip of sheet between them.

“Skye?”

She lifted her eyes, and he winced to find them glistening.

“Flip over,” he said softly.

Without a word, she flipped over, presenting her back to him. He pulled her close, her back flush to his chest, his arm draped over her waist, resting just under her breasts.

“Goodnight,” he said, close to her ear.

“Goodnight,” she said, the whisper of sadness making his heart ache and clench and he wished harder than he ever had in his entire life that things were different.

***

All things considered, Skye slept well.

She’d felt sad, falling asleep in Brooks’ arms last night. Every minute she spent with him reconfirmed how much she wanted him. It frustrated her beyond belief that there was something keeping him from letting her love him.
Love
him. If there’d been any remaining doubt in her mind, their heat last night had knocked it out of the equation. She’d always had feelings for Brooks, always liked him, always dreamed of him. She admired him and had fun with him. He took care of her and sailed like a god. For her, he felt more and more perfect.

And yet, the whole reason she’d created
Zephyrland
was because she might not be so perfect for Brooks. Her father was still a middle-class marina owner who lived in Maryland, and Skye was determined to work and live near her father. He needed her; he didn’t have anyone else. Which led her immediately to thoughts of her cheating, disgusting embarrassment of a mother.

A few years ago, she’d called her mother out of the blue, desperate for a woman’s opinion about a dating situation and wondering if Shelley had changed her ways after so many years. She dialed her mother’s old number, unsurprised when it went to voicemail, but the voice—her mother’s voice—purred, “
This is Bunny Lynn from Hollywood Models. Leave me a message and we’ll set up a…
(her mother giggled)
date
.” Skye’s cheeks had flared and she’d scrambled to press the End button on her cell phone. A few minutes later, her curiosity got the better of her.

She’d opened her laptop and typed in “Hollywood Models,” her hands shaking as the website came up. She scrolled down after reading about their “VIP models” and found a photo gallery of twenty women, their faces mostly hidden, dressed in all types of revealing lingerie and some without tops on at all. She searched the pictures, but the “models” were too young to be her mother. On the bottom left corner, she saw the words “Our Mature Ladies” and clicked on that.