Forever Never

She gave serious thought to ignoring the knock on her door but recalled the shower incident and changed her mind.

“You ran away,” Brick said, pushing past her, not waiting for an invitation. While she had changed into her oversized hoodie and knee socks, he was still dressed for the party in dark slacks and a tie.

“I did not. I walked home at a leisurely pace,” she lied. As soon as the party wrapped, as soon as she’d done enough to help with the clean-up, she’d ducked out and run like hell before slipping on a patch of ice and almost taking a header through a tidy picket fence.

“You ran away. And that was after you shut me out.”

“I would hardly call giving you a blow job shutting you—”

“Don’t,” he snapped. The icy fire of his temper was evident in his gaze, his stance. He was coiled and ready.

“Don’t what?” she challenged.

“Don’t try to reduce what’s going on between us to that.”

“Sorry,” she said, heavy on the sarcasm. “I didn’t realize sucking your dick—”

She found herself backed against the wall with a hard, angry man in front of her. His hands were gentle on her, but the rest of him vibrated with anger. For some reason, she found his restraint fucking hot.

“No. We’re talking about this. No deflecting or distracting. We’re having it out.”

When he looked at her like this, it made her feel like she was the center of his universe. Like nothing else mattered but what was happening between them. But that wasn’t the truth.

“You want to talk?”

He nodded slowly, his teeth bared.

“You never want to talk.” Her voice shook as he leaned in and took a deep, carnal breath at her neck.

“I talk all the fucking time,” he insisted.

“Fine. Then talk,” she said, trying to duck under his arm but finding herself going nowhere as he cupped her jaw, holding her lightly by the throat.

“Do you know what it does to me to be that close to you and not be able to touch you like I want to?” he asked, his voice soft and jagged.

Wordlessly she shook her head.

“It’s fucking torture. It’s a new ring of hell to know what your skin feels like, to know what you taste like, but I still can’t touch you unless we’re alone.”

The hand at her throat coasted down over her shoulder and chest to her breast.

She drew in a breath. Her body melted against him, succumbing, surrendering.

But then his touch was gone, and with a growl, he slapped his palm against the wall above her head.

“I can’t keep doing this, Remi,” he said.

Panic bloomed in her chest. He was doing exactly what she’d feared he’d do. She should be the one who was supposed to put an end to things. She should save herself the agony of…this. She should be the one to withdraw. But he was beating her to the punch. Again.

“Then don’t,” she snapped. Anger and fear joined forces inside her, making the world come into sharp focus. The flare of his nostrils. The parting of his lips. The fire in his eyes that threatened to burn her to ashes.

“I can’t help myself,” he confessed. “I know how this is going to end and I can’t stop myself from wanting more anyway.”

“What kind of more?”

His breathing was heavy and hot on her face.

“I saw what your parents have tonight. Decades of it. A life together. A partnership.”

What was he saying? She was having trouble catching her breath. It came out in a shallow whistle.

Brick swore and pushed away from her. She sagged against the wall. Spotting her clutch on the table, he opened it and fished out her inhaler.

“I don’t need it,” Remi insisted as he returned it to her.

“Then take a fucking breath and prove it.”

“God, you piss me off.”

“Right back at you, baby. You piss me off, wind me up, and leave me wanting more of something I never should have had in the first place.”

“Why did you marry Audrey?” Her question slashed through the air like a whip. Silence rang in her ears after.

His mouth closed in that firm line. His answers locked in the vault.

“What? You wanted to talk. So let’s talk. Why did you marry Audrey? Why did you pick her? Why not me?”

He was so stubbornly silent.

She shoved at his chest, not moving him an inch. Somewhere in the back of her mind, it registered how much they both seemed to like it.

“Because I couldn’t have you,” he said hoarsely.

“Why the fuck not, Brick? You knew I loved you.”

Again, she was met with silence. But this time it wasn’t so indomitable. Brick was vibrating with an energy that demanded to be let out. With words that wanted to ring their truth.

“You loved me?” he repeated.

“Of course I did. I loved you, and you chose my best friend over me. Why?”

“Because I couldn’t fucking have you!”

“What does that even mean? Why not? Audrey was my age. So it wasn’t that I was too young. My parents have adored you since they met you. I wanted to be yours so much, and you just kept rejecting me.” Her voice broke along with the dam of emotions she’d held back for too long.

He was trembling against her, and she knew something was about to happen.

“You rejected me over and over again,” she whispered. “You made up reasons that we both know were just excuses. Then you chose someone else. And when you finally let us start to explore this thing between us, you give me a couple of orgasms and say you can’t do it anymore. What do you want from me, Brick? Am I here just because Audrey isn’t?”

“I married Audrey to ruin any chance I had with you.”

She felt sick, dizzy, devastated. And in some mean, dark corner of her mind, a little voice said I told you so.

“Why?” She barely managed to get the word out.

“God damn it. I can’t live with you looking at me like that,” he snapped.

“Like what?” A tear slipped out of the corner of her eye and burned a path down her cheek.

“Like I just destroyed you.”

Her laugh was humorless. “Many men have tried,” she quipped, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“Don’t fucking joke about that,” he said, whirling her around to face the wall. She braced herself against the drywall and cursed her body for begging for what she wanted. She tilted her behind back, offering herself to him.

His hand coasted down to cup her rear end.

“Do you see what’s happening here? I can’t control myself around you. I never could.” As if to emphasize his point, he tracked his fingers up the valley between her cheeks, finding the thin band of her thong.

“You’ve done nothing but control yourself!”

“I’ve been hanging on by my goddamn finger nails for years, Remi. I’ve got nothing left. Every time you make me chase you, I lose a little bit more willpower. Standing here now, saying the things I should have said years ago, and all I can think of is how much I want to pull this shirt up. How much I want to put my hands on you. How much I want to hear the sound of my hand connecting with your skin. How much I want to see that cheek turn pink with my mark. How much I want to hear you say you’re sorry for making me chase you in that breathy little voice you have when you know you’re about to get fucked.”

Her entire body was shaking now, quaking between the wall and the man.

And when he sank behind her, when those hot finger tips under her sweatshirt skated higher, bringing the material with them, she let out a shaky moan. He held the hem against her back and stroked the skin exposed by her thong with the other.

“You haunt my every waking moment, Remington. The best thing about this world is that you’re in it. But I can’t have what I want.” She could hear the agony in his voice.

“You aren’t making any fucking sense! What is so horrible about the idea of being with me?”

“Because I won’t survive you! Because if I did get lucky enough to lock you down, eventually you’d find out.”

“Find out what?”

“That I don’t deserve you. That I’m not good enough for you. That all I have to offer you is protection and sex.”

She gasped as he took a handful of flesh and squeezed.

“Those are the only reasons you come to me,” he whispered. “The only reason you’re standing here taking this is because you want it almost as much as I want to give it to you.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” he breathed, running his fingertips over her curves, “if there’s more.”

“What more do you want from me?” Again, she arched her back, tilting her rear end up in invitation.

“You’re my dream come true wrapped in a nightmare. The only thing you’re willing to give me is your body, and that’s not enough.”

“Are you saying I’m using you?”

“I’m saying I feel used. And I hate myself for still wanting you. For wanting that to be enough.” He yanked her back against his thighs, and with a dip of his knees, he lined his arousal up between her legs and pumped viciously against her as if they weren’t separated by their clothing. “I hate myself for wanting to fuck you like this now when I know it doesn’t mean the same to you.”

“You don’t know that,” she cried. “You don’t get to take your mommy-daddy baggage out on me. Your parents sucked. That wasn’t your fault. But what you choose to do now is just that. Your choice. You don’t get to paint me with the same brush you painted them. You could have had me! I could have loved you. I could have been the best thing that ever happened to you!”

“Yes. Until it was over for you. Until you were ready for your next adventure. Your next city.” He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and tugged. “Look at you. When you walked in tonight, my heart fucking stopped. It still hasn’t restarted. You don’t look like you. You don’t look like the girl who sank my goddamn snowmobile or the one who cries every time she watches Father of the Bride. You look like Alessandra Ballard.”

“I am Alessandra Ballard. And Remi Ford. They’re the same damn girl. They’re both me.”

“You want things I can’t give you. I’m never going to be happy living in a city surrounded by strangers. I don’t want to get dressed up every night and go out for the attention.”

He was hard. So fucking hard against her. It made her needy sex throb.

“So I tried to find my own happiness. I picked a nice girl who didn’t scare the hell out of me. Who wouldn’t ask me for too much. Who would make sure that I never had a shot with you again.”

The truth fucking hurt.

“Why?” she asked, as his fingers kneaded her hair, as his hips ground against her.

“Because I love you. I’ve always loved you.” His voice shook. “Because I won’t survive it when you leave.”

She froze.

“But you were always going to leave,” he whispered against her ear. “You’re still going to leave. Even after what we found together. You’re going to get on a plane or a ferry or a goddamn snowmobile and you’re going to leave. Me. You want a big life. You want adventure, novelty. You want to be great. How are you going to do that from here?”

Just like his mother.

It struck like the diamond point of lightning right into her heart.

“I don’t fault you for that,” he said, moving his lips over her neck. His beard abrading her skin. “I want people to look at what you’ve created and be dazzled by it, just like I’m dazzled by you. But this place is my home. The only place I’ve ever belonged. You gave that to me and you’re the only one with the power to take it away. Because I’d follow you if you let me. I’d go with you. But you’re not even going to ask. You’re going to stay here long enough for me to put Vorhees behind bars and then you’re going to leave.”

Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as it all sank in.

Brick Callan loved her. And he was terrified of her.

“You wanted to know why I married Audrey? You should be asking why we divorced. Because of you. Your name is the last word I breathe every night. Your face is the one I see when I close my eyes. I couldn’t hide that from her.”

She let out a broken sob and sucked in a breath. “Oh, fuck that. And fuck you, Brick. You let me think I wasn’t good enough for years. You purposely hurt me just so you could keep yourself safe.”

“So much for safe! I’m going to go to bed every night for the rest of my life thinking about you, and where will you be, Remington? Will you even remember me? Every fucking time I make you come, I feel you getting farther away from me. But I still can’t stop myself.”

“Because I don’t want you to hurt me again! I can’t take another rejection from you. Not after…”

“What? Not after what? Sex? Not after we fucked a few times? That’s the only reason I’m here, isn’t it? Because I make you feel good. That’s why you’re pushing that tight little ass against my dick, isn’t it?”

She spun around and let her closed fist fly. Darlene Ford’s daughters didn’t slap. They cold-cocked. Brick dodged the blow easily and pulled her in tight so she couldn’t put a knee in his balls. They struggled, wrestling each other to the hard floor. When they landed, his hand manacled hers over her head as she squirmed under him.

She knew they were fighting. Knew she was furious with him. But being restrained like this, being pinned by his heavy body, muddied things. She needed more, and so did he. Remi bucked her hips against him, an invitation as much as a challenge.

He gritted his teeth before kissing his way down her neck. “I hate myself for wanting one last time with you. One last chance to make you need me. Because that’s all I’m good for. That’s all I have to offer you. A place to feel safe. A way to feel good. It’s not enough,” he said, even as he loosened his belt.

Her chest heaved as she dragged in a breath.

“Open your legs,” he ordered.

She reared up and bit his lower lip. “Make me.”

She saw it in his eyes. The glimmer of excitement. The thrill of the line she was asking him to cross.

“You’re proving my point, and I still can’t help myself,” he said, levering up to free his swollen erection from his pants. “I still can’t say no to you.”

His weight was on her wrists, making them ache, but watching him work that thick shaft with brutal strokes blocked out any pain except for the empty trembling of her inner walls.

“Open your fucking legs, Remington.”

Biting her lip, she shook her head against the floor.

He let out a low growl as if he were in pain. “You tell me to stop if this goes too far.”

A nod was all she’d give him.

With permission granted, Brick inserted a knee between her thighs. She fought it, squeezing against him and loving the illicit thrill of being restrained.

She was no match for his brute strength.

“This is the last time,” he promised, gritting out the words as he used his hips to pin hers down.

She wanted to argue with him. Wanted to stop him and be the one to walk away. She wanted to prove him wrong. But all of those things fell a distant second to the need inside her. The need to be dominated by him. Taken by him. Marked by him. That took precedence.

She bucked against him, half-heartedly trying to twist away. But he simply spread her thighs wide and yanked her thong to the side.

Digging her heels into the floor, she tried once more to dislodge him and was thrilled when he didn’t budge. His hand connected with the back of her thigh, delivering a stinging slap.

Their gazes locked a split second before he lunged into her. Claiming her.

“Brick!”

He didn’t answer her cry of ecstasy. Just drove into her tight sex again and again, forcing her to take more of him each time, until finally every inch of him was sheathed inside her. Their bodies slid and scraped across the floor.

Even then, he didn’t stop.

Quivering around him, she was primed to come, and each masterful thrust, each aggressive entry, pushed her closer to the edge.

This solved nothing. This only served to further complicate things. But even knowing that, even knowing she was reinforcing Brick’s fear, Remi couldn’t stop herself from crying his name as they fought like two storm systems clashing for dominance.

He powered into her, setting a wild pace that was nothing like the measured man he was outside the bedroom. He was lost in her, and she had two choices—to either fight it or to give in and lose herself, too.

“My beautiful girl.” He punctuated each word with a thrust. “My Remi. I love you.”

A sob broke free from her chest. There was something so beautiful, so final about the way he touched her.

His eyes went glassy as he drove into her core. Again and again. A man on a mission, punishing them both for their need.

Even angry with her, even wanting to end things, he still couldn’t help himself. There was a delicious thrill in that. It made her feel powerful, desired, craved. With impatience, he yanked her legs higher on his hips, changing the angle of his entry.

He was still fully dressed. Together they writhed on the floor in a race to find the promised fulfillment.

He shoved her shirt up, baring her breasts, and groaned as he dipped his head to suck one nipple into his mouth. She saw stars and fireworks and explosions behind her eyes as he worked her body toward the finish line.

“You will come. Now,” he said through gritted teeth. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “Give it up to me, Remi. Give me what I need. One last time.”

One breath she was suspended somewhere between pleasure and pain, the next she was hurtling into the darkness as she erupted around him in the disorienting annihilation of her orgasm. He was her center, her anchor, tethering her to the pleasure that threatened to wreck her.

He grunted his pleasure, burying his face in her neck. “Good girl. I love you so fucking much.”

She couldn’t answer, couldn’t respond. So she did the only thing she could, closed around his shaft. He tensed against her, breath frozen in his lungs, energy stalling in his muscles. She felt his release in her very depths. The hot shock as he let it loose inside her, spurting in agonized ecstasy. It was a miracle. An art form. A joining that could never be undone no matter how far she ran away. No matter how much he denied it. They were forever linked by this act.

“Remington!” he shouted.

Every muscle in her body participated in the detonation even as he continued to plunder, to curse her, to both treasure and torture her.

As he poured himself into her, he continued to fuck her through her own never-ending release. He whispered the words over and over again. “I love you. I love you.”

She held on to him tight, wrapping her arms around him and holding on. He’d gone and done it again. Broken her fucking heart, but this time it was different. This time she had the truth. She just didn’t know what to do with it.

He thought she’d used him. Thought she’d drift out of his life like his mother had. It devastated her. And pissed her off. Long minutes later, she was still in a puddle of confusion and physical satisfaction on the floor when Brick got to his feet. He was still half-hard, a feat that defied biology.

“Lock the door behind me,” he said as he tucked himself back into his pants.

“Are you serious? You’re leaving?”

“I told you. This was the last time. Lock the fucking door, Remington.”

She managed to maneuver herself into a sitting position just in time to watch him walk out her door without a backward glance.