"Do you know why I'm doing this show?"
"Because you owe them one show under your contract."
"True, but that's not the reason. I've been paying for his care. So he's got a decent room, you know? And then boom, the money's gone. Because I fucked up and didn't pay enough attention to my own damn finances. I need this show to keep him in decent digs. Otherwise, he gets shipped off to another facility across town, and I'm pretty sure they won't put fresh flowers in his room every day."
"I had no idea." She leaned forward and took his hands, and the shock of connection went through him like a bolt of lightning. "You're a good son. A good man."
"Yeah, I sure as hell proved that today, didn't I?"
"You were an ass, today," she said baldly. "But it's almost midnight. So you can start fresh."
He met her eyes, blue ice flashing in the moment. "Can I?" he asked, his voice cracking with the words.
He felt need tighten in his chest. His head was spinning, and some annoying voice in his head was saying that it was too fast. But five years didn't seem fast. Five years seemed like a hell he was ready to climb out of.
"Can we start fresh?" he asked, the question almost a whisper.
"I--Spencer." She swallowed, but she didn't say yes. Then again, she didn't say no, either.
"I'm going to kiss you, now," he murmured, desperate to taste her. "Not because I want to punish you. But because I want you. And if that's a problem," he added, as he leaned toward her, "you better stop me now."
Chapter Twelve
I'm going to kiss you now.
The words rumbled through Brooke, filling and teasing her, warm and wild and delicious.
She leaned forward, knowing that she shouldn't want this. There'd been so much pain between them. So many lost opportunities. And way too many secrets.
She'd missed him so much--so damn much. The Spencer who'd been her lover and her friend. For years, she'd lived with the knowledge that she'd lost him forever. And then when he'd made his horrible demand, she'd been certain of it.
But here they were, and she realized for the first time that he'd been as lost tonight as she'd been. Both of them clawing their way through years of loss and longing.
Maybe he was still unreachable. Maybe they'd never truly be able to make it right.
But for the first time, she had the chance to capture a bit of the past. And that wasn't a chance she was going to walk away from. Not when she craved him so much. When she could barely catch her breath, and when her pulse skittered beneath her skin, alive with desire.
Gently, he cupped her chin, those brown eyes searching her face. She knew what he saw. Fear, longing, and just a little bit of daring.
Slowly, she curved her mouth into a smile. "I'm not saying no," she whispered.
"Thank God," he said, then kissed her. Not the wild, demanding kiss she'd been expecting. No, this was gentle. Almost sweet. His lips brushing over hers. His tongue tasting.
His hand closed at the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, his thumb stroking as his mouth moved tenderly over hers, his beard tickling her mouth and her cheeks.
He was taking his time, and she let herself settle in, tasting him and remembering all the times he'd touched her. Kissed her. His hands exploring. His mouth demanding.
The heat of those memories rushed through her, and she wanted more. She craved the realization of those memories now, in the present. She wanted him to claim her mouth. To take what she was giving. To kiss her so thoroughly it erased all the bad memories and all the loss.
"Spencer," she murmured against his mouth, and that was all it took. He knew what she wanted, just as he'd always known.
His fingers knotted in her hair, and he tugged her head back, his lips moving from her mouth to her throat as she shivered with pleasure, her entire body warming up, like an ember about to burst into flame.
His lips traveled up her sensitive skin to her ear, where he teased the curve with his tongue, then whispered her name, his voice infused with so much heat that she felt her sex tighten and pulse with desire.
He traced kisses over her temple, brushed gentle lips over her eyes, and then attacked her mouth once again, in a take-no-prisoners kind of kiss. Tongue and teeth and desire and possession, it was all there in a kiss as intimate as sex. A kiss that claimed and took and owned.
And, still, she wanted more. "Yes," she said. "God, yes."