Superfan (Brooklyn #3)(81)

Delilah shows me some mercy by moving slowly at first. Gripping my shoulders, she rides me like we have all week. But it isn’t long until we’re both too wound up to go slow. And every time I jack my hips off the bed, she lets out an earthy, helpless sound. I break out in a sweat as we pick up the pace. I’m aching and desperate and yet so, so happy.

“Jesus,” Delilah pants, throwing her head back. “You really want to roll me over and go into beast mode, don’t you?”

“Maybe,” I gasp, thrusting again. “Now that you mention it.”

She gives a throaty laugh, and I need to hear that sound almost as much as I need to come. She puts her hands to my face. “Do it, then.”

About two seconds later she’s flat on her back, and I’m going hard and fast. Her knees hug my sides for dear life, and her breasts bounce with every snap of my hips. “Now, honey,” I beg.

“Yes,” she cries, or at least I think she does. All I can hear are my own moans and hers answering me back as we lose ourselves in the release we both need so badly.

When my brain comes back online, we’re side by side on the bed, hand in hand, still breathing hard. After another minute of trying to get my heart rate down, I open my mouth to tell her something important. “I—”

But she speaks at the same time “So—”

We both pause to let the other speak.

“You first,” she says.

I laugh, because timing never was easy for us. “I love you,” I say and then laugh again. “How about that?”

She sits up and looks down at me. “Oh! God.” She leans over and kisses me. “I love you too! Thank you for making me say it.”

“I didn’t make you.”

She shrugs her naked shoulders. “Sometimes I need a push. But I’m trying.”

“What were you going to say, though?” I reach up a hand and cup her sweet face. “Just now?”

“Oh. Well this is embarrassing.” She gives me a nervous smile. “I was just going to ask if you brought food.”

I cover my face with both hands and crack up. “Of course I did.”



*



We eat in our underwear on the bed. We don’t bother with plates from the kitchenette or good silverware. I’ve brought a pasta with salmon and an order of avocado sliders. We trade the containers back and forth while we talk.

And I finally get my chance to explain why I stood her up the other night. “It wasn’t because I had cold feet, or didn’t want to come. Brett threatened us.”

“What?” The fork pauses on its way to her mouth. “That asshole is always coming between us.”

“Because we let him,” I point out. “I let him just this week.”

“Never again,” she grumbles. “I want to hear the whole story.”

That requires going back in time and filling her in on all the parts I’d skipped before.

“He got you arrested in high school? Then he threatens your mom?” Delilah is horrified when it all comes out. “What an asshole. I had the worst taste in men.”

I laugh. “Well…”

“Had,” she says. “Past tense.”

“Still.”

She sets down the food and grips my knee. “I’m still not used to you. Part of me doesn’t quite believe that I deserve you.”

“Shit. I’m the same.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t level with you before. If I’d told you what Brett did to ruin my chances, you might have understood how calculating he really is. You could have avoided every single awful thing that’s happened to you in three years.”

She blinks. “I don’t know if it would even matter. We could both go insane trying to second guess ourselves.”

“I suppose.” I clear my throat. “You’re probably right. And maybe I’ll stop feeling so responsible if they convict him. Still. I really don’t want to get on a plane tomorrow.”

She swallows. “Do you have to?”

No.

Yes.

“That’s not an easy question. If I want to keep my place on the team, then I have to leave. They could fine me just for missing today’s practice. It’s not just the coach I’m letting down. It’s two dozen guys who need to get the season off to the right start.”

“Shit.”

I pick up our empty food containers and put them back into the bag. I carry the whole thing out to the kitchen.

When I come back, Delilah is sitting very straight on the bed watching me. “I don’t want you to go. But I know you need to.”

“I sure don’t want to go. What would you say to coming home with me for a little while?”

“How would that work?”

“You’d think of it as a vacation. No—a retreat.” I gather her hair in one hand and lift her chin with the other. “It’s a selfish request. I don’t think I can go back home and keep my head in the game while I’m so worried about you.”

“I’m okay, Silas.”

“Yeah, I can see that. But I’m not over it yet. And you’ve had a really rough time. I just want you around. And I want you safe. I want to be able to climb into bed beside you at night and be totally sure you’re all right.”