The Brat (The Playgirls #3) (4 page)

Chapter Six

Shane

Over the last few years, Shane had had reasons to feel pretty guilty about avoiding Brooke. She’d always been dear to him, and not seeing her on her birthdays, or even her graduation, had really hurt.

He’d reasoned that he needed to get over his…
interest
in her, before resuming their previous relationship. He’d sent her giftcards with a lot of zeros to her favorite shops, but it hadn’t eased the sense of unease.

Right now, he felt like an asshole, point blank. He’d dumped one of his closest friends, and she’d carried on helping him out without expecting anything in exchange.

Truth was, Shane had noted he never had issues with computers; he guessed that it was because he had a pretty awesome computer… but that didn’t explain how stuff he hadn’t saved reappeared when he desperately looked for them, or how everything seemed in order after power cuts. She’d singlehandedly done a job he would have needed to hire a tech genius for, if she hadn’t been there in the background. And she didn’t even want to accept his money, which made him feel even shittier.

To be fair, it was probably because Brooke was loaded. Jack had been given a cool million – a tenth of his trust fund – after his graduation. He’d used it to fund VandB, but by the look of things, Brooke hadn’t dived into her egg nest, yet.

Still. He really needed to find something to do for her.

An idea crossed his mind, and any other time, he might have just ignored it, but considering the conversation they’d had the previous day, it was hard to resist.

Deciding to stop pussy footing and grow a pair of balls, he shifted on the sofa, where he’d been sitting with her feet on his lap.

“What are you doing?”

She was squirming, in the most flattering way as he towered over her, parting her legs with his torso; he dropped his lips on her knees, before glancing up.

“Thanking you. If you won’t let me pay you for your services, I’m going to have to settle my debt in a more creative fashion.”

On that note, he returned to her legs, kissing the inside on her thigh, going up each time he came up for air. She was panting by the time he made it to the rim of the boxers he’d lent her. Ignoring them altogether, he slowly lifted the t-shirt that was swallowing her, until he’d revealed those fucking glorious tits. Shit. They were heavy, and huge, so they bounced at the slightest excuse, but they were also firm. Cupping one breast reverently, he wrapped his lips around the other one and sucked.

“Oh fuck.”

She was
so
responsive, shivering under his touch.

“From the bottom of my heart,” he whispered, lifting his head to aim for the other nipple, “Thank you, Brooke Barnes.”

This time, he didn’t suck: he bit down, while pinching the other one. Briskly, his free hand dived inside the boxers and found her clit. She writhed and pleaded, but he was relentless, leaving her clit only to dip inside her and curve his fingers. Relinquishing her tits took some wherewithal, but he managed to, in order to finally take those damn soft, cherry scented lips under his.

Oh, fuck. That was so, so good. He was pretty sure he’d never tasted anything as sweet and perfect as that tongue against his.

At least, since the last time he’d kissed her. 

She only had to say two words for him to rip every fabric separating them and dive into her; but she didn’t.

He was practically coming in his pants, like a damn kid, but he somehow found the strength to leave it at that, after she’d come on his fingers.

He’d made his point now; she knew what he had to offer… and the ball was in her court.

•

Brooke

Day two after the world had spun out of its axis, she wondered whether she’d imagined the whole thing. Shane was back to normal. Kinda.

“Here’s your coffee,” he said, passing her a warm cup.

He’d done that one thousand times before, without brushing her skin, but today, his hand lingered on her fingers for too long; it was definitely purposeful.

Brookes looked down, confused, wondering how such a minimal, simple contact could make her want to burn his clothes and jump his bones.

By the time she’d resolved to throw caution to the wind, Shane’s phone rang, and he walk away to answer it in his office.

Brooke forced her attention back on the website she was polishing; it was good – unique, easy to navigate and gorgeous – but she wanted it to exceed her client’s expectations; she really needed the referrals, and no one endorsed someone for giving a “good” service.

She was completely immersed in her job when Shane snuck up on her; one minute, she’d been by herself, the next, a hunk was towering over her, looking at her work behind her shoulders.

“You’re brilliant. You know, we could use a new website. Could you squeeze us in?”

“Sure,” she replied.

She’d seen their basic wordpress page and it had made her want to cry. Shane – or worse, yet: Jack – had probably done it himself in half an hour. While it had served the purpose at the beginning, seven years ago, they were in desperate need of a revamp.

She’d offered when they’d started up, but Jack had shrugged it off, and it hadn’t mattered at the time. She
should
have reiterated her proposal later on, when they’d become a serious business, but that might have been perceived as a desperate way to get Shane’s attention, so she’d left it alone.

“Great. I was thinking about something that showcase some of our best work, you know – a panorama of the renovation, some before and after shoots. I’ll write it all down, you can give us a quote after.”

That again. Was he serious?

“I’m not charging you, Shane.”

Unless he’d like to pay back her by offering a few extra orgasm. If he volunteered, she was writing down every work expense and out of hour work.

“Don’t be silly, BB. The kinda work you do is worth thousands.”

She shrugged; sure, it was, and she did charge thousands for it.

“Your point? I’m not charging my brother, or any childhood friend.”

“So, we’re
friends,
are we?”

That got her attention. Brooke stopped coding, glancing up towards him. He seemed annoyed, which kinda was hilarious.

“Well, I have seen most of my friends over the last three years, so I guess you’re right, we aren’t that friendly.”

Yes, she’d brought up
that
particular elephant sitting in the corner of the room; she couldn’t really believe her own nerves, and if Shane’s visible shock was any indication, he couldn’t, either.

He looked like he was tempted to start shouting, throttle her, devour her or all of the above, so it was a relief when his phone rang again.

His shoulders sagged and he sighed; a real, exhausted sigh, not the fake ones he reserved to her.

She only caught a few words before he was out of earshot, but they were enough for her to understand; there was only one person on this planet with whom he’d ever used
that
voice.

People have different intonation whether they speak to family, friends, work colleagues; and they generally have a voice for their lover, too.

Shane used the family voice with her and he had always reserved that soft, suave, understanding,
adoring
tone to one woman.

One woman whose ring he still wore.

After a full minute of numbness, Brooke mechanically packed her shit and high tailed it out of there.

•

Shane

Alice was going to drive him mad.

He loved both his sisters, of course, but he’d always preferred Alice; she was smarter, for one – and normally, there was less drama attached to her.

Key word: normally.

She’d just banked out of twenty-six years worth of drama and unleashed it on them – worse, yet. He couldn’t even tell her to get her shit together, because she wasn’t in a state to deal with the additional stress.

Normally, it wouldn’t have stopped him, but Alice was freaking pregnant.

Painstakingly, Shane tried to calm down and use his most patient, condescending tone – the one he switched to when he was talking to three-years-olds. Or his ex-wife, one of the two.

Eventually, Alice agreed to spend the night at a nice resort, and wait for him there; he’d drive her home. She stubborn idiot had had it in mind to drive all the way from LA – although she’d had fainting sprees by the bucket loads.

As soon as the conversation was finished, Shane ran out of his bedroom, irrevocably drawn to Brooke everytime something unpleasant occurred.

Three years ago

God, she was beautiful. Shane always noticed, but today, it was worse than usual; any given day, he’d think “yes, of course Brooke Barnes is stunning, however I am married, and she’s not interested.”

He was still married; but not for long. Not after the bomb Fiona had landed on him… And Brooke didn’t look
not interested.

In fact, she ran out of the circle of friends with whom she’d been drinking her coffee, and landed straight into his arms.

“Shane! I didn’t know you were coming.”

If that was how she greeted him when he surprised her, he planned on doing it again.

And again.

“Last minute trip,” he replied – that wasn’t a lie, technically.

Ok, bullshit: it was a total lie per omission. He was letting her assume he was there for work; when in fact, he was there because everything in San Francisco made him feel foolish.

How had he let it come to this?

Truthfully, the more he thought about Fiona’s accusations, the guiltier he felt.

He
had
been a shit husband; he saw her ten minutes a day, max. Of late, he’d started to sleep at the office. He hadn’t fucked her in a while, either. Of course she’d go get her fix elsewhere…

The issue was
whom
she’d fucked around his. His baby sister’s boyfriend. Really?

The last week had gone in a blur and next thing he knew, he’d booked a flight to NYC. He didn’t even think it had been a conscious choice: he’d just run to the only positive constant in his life. Some people went to their parents’ or their best friend’s when shit hit the fan. Shane went to Brooke Barnes.

He would have loved to ignore reality for the duration of his trip, but Brooke had had plans to go out, that night. He’d tagged along, doing more than his fair share of shots in the process; they gone home when they couldn’t walk straight and there, his mouth opened. In his next breath, the whole story was coming out.

The volley of insults coming out of Brooke’s pouty mouth had seemed so cute.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t ask,” she slurred, frantically typing on her black phone and her computer, practically at the same time.

“Baby…”

“I’m not telling,” she’d sang out.

So,
so cute.

He couldn’t help himself: he was drawing her to him, and his lips fell on hers, hungrily.

Then, he ran.

Now

Three days.

Shane had been too busy to do anything about it at first, but it had been three days.

When he’d finished talking to Alice, after her series of frantic phone calls, he’d ran out of his office, to go to Brooke, but she’d disappeared.

Looking at the time, Shane had reasoned that it was pretty late; she’d just gone home. Nothing weird about that; she didn’t really live there, after all…

But normally, she said bye.

The next day, after an exhausting round trip to pick up his frantic sister and drop her off at their parents’ – where there had been a considerable amount of annoying drama – he’d made it home, eager to chill out with the brat…

And she’d been a no show. Shane told himself she’d probably worked until five or six before heading out. Nothing weird about that, either.

Today was day three. Day thirty three since she’d made it back to San Fran, and he’d seen her every single day, save for the last two.

First, Shane was concerned, so he called a number he’d probably never used in his entire life.

“Shane boy!” the Barnes’ old housekeeper replied, enthusiastic as always. “We never see you anymore. You don’t love my cookies now?”

Her cookies were just one step under Mara Vaughan’s brownies, and she knew it.

“Never, Monique. I’ll be there soon enough.” He paused for a while, before asking, “Is Brooke around today?”

“Mhph!” Monique snorted. “That girl’s never home these days. She doesn’t love me either. Wait a minute... Yeah. I see her in the poolhouse. She’s behind that computer of hers, as always. She’s going to need glasses if she doesn’t stop, you know.”