The Risk (Briar U #2)(106)

It’s mortifying looking back on it. But we all do dumb things when we’re teenagers. It’s all those raging hormones.

“Anyway, now it’s five years later and Dad still views me as a disappointment, as weak. Even though I cleaned up my act a long time ago.” I shrug sadly. “But it is what it is, right?”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” Jake presses a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re not weak, Brenna. Coach Jensen’s blind if he doesn’t see that. And calling your daughter a disappointment because she accidentally got pregnant? That’s a dick move. You don’t deserve that. And you definitely don’t deserve what that prick Eric did to you. I can’t believe you’re still in contact with him, that you actually allow yourself to feel any compassion for the guy.”

I sigh. “The breakdown I had after the miscarriage was nothing compared to the one Eric had. Losing me sent him into a tailspin. He blew off the championship game because of me.”

“No, because of him,” Jake corrects. “Don’t kid yourself, babe—he would’ve gotten kicked off the team eventually, even if he had played in the championship. Eric Royce was never going to the NHL. He clearly already had a burgeoning substance-abuse issue. He would’ve failed a piss test, gotten busted for possession, something. I guarantee it.”

“Maybe you’re right. But at the time, I felt responsible for him. I didn’t want to date him anymore, but I also felt an obligation to take care of him. It’s so messed up, I can’t even explain it.” I lift my head from Jake’s shoulder. “Eric was never there for me when I needed him, so why couldn’t I say ‘boy bye’ and let him self-destruct?”

“Because you’re a good person.”

“I guess.” I hesitate. “So are you,” I tell him.

“Nah.”

A hot lump of emotion fills my throat. “You are,” I insist. “Look at everything you’ve done for me—you helped me rescue my undeserving ex. You gave me a place to stay. You just listened to that whole sordid tale without judging me. Eric was—is—one of the most selfish people I’ve ever met. But you’re not. You’re a good guy, Jake.”

His big body shifts in discomfort, and it’s kind of adorable. You’d think he’d be thrilled to hear someone singing his praises.

I swallow repeatedly, because the lump keeps growing in size. This is so unlike me. I’m not usually this sappy. But despite the tickle of embarrassment in my belly, I still vocalize the words that are tugging at my heart.

“Thank you for being there for me.”





34





Jake





Morning sex is something I don’t get to indulge in very often. Which is a damn shame, because I love it. There’s nothing better than an orgasm first thing in the morning to set the tone for the rest of the day. But since I never have women stay over, nor do I crash at their places, I’m constantly missing out on one of my favorite activities. Until now.

For the past three days, I’ve woken up with my morning wood nestled between Brenna’s firm ass cheeks, one hand cupping a warm breast, my nose buried in her hair. It’s the best feeling in the world. No, scratch that—the best feeling in the world is when Brenna climbs on top of me and seats herself on my dick. We’ve been sleeping naked since she got here, because whenever we’re in my bed, our clothes end up coming off anyway.

“Don’t kiss me,” she warns, as she has every morning since she got here. She has a strict rule about not kissing with morning breath, which I guess I’m down with. But I’m also too impatient to get up, go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and then fuck her brains out. I’d rather kick off with the fucking.

There’s something different about this morning, though. It feels like more than fucking. Feels more intimate.

Maybe it’s because of the confession she made last night. Opening herself up to me, allowing me to experience, at least secondhand, the traumatic events she’d gone through. She’d been so vulnerable, and for a moment I’d almost felt inadequate. As if this glimpse into her soul that she was trusting me with was beyond what I was capable of taking on.

I’m seeing the same vulnerability in her eyes right now, and it’s making the sex feel—

Nope, it’s not our locked gazes heightening the intimacy. It’s the fact that my dick is surrounded with warmth and wetness.

I’m not wearing a condom.

“Babe.” I groan, stilling her by grabbing her hips. “Condom,” I remind her.

She looks stunned that we’d forgotten. And I know it’s a big deal for her, because she’s typically such a stickler for condoms. After her confession, I understand why.

“I’m on the pill,” she says in assurance, and her expression becomes unusually shy. “I get tested twice a year. My last results were all clear…” There’s an unspoken question there.

“Mine too,” I say huskily.

“So maybe we should…” She visibly swallows. “Keep going?”

My pulse quickens. “You sure you want to bareback it?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah. But maybe you can pull out at the end, if that’s okay?”