Breathe With Me (Playing For Keeps #5)

by Becka Mack

“I like toasted marshmallow lattes with a heart in the foam because it makes me feel special, and if you feel like braiding my hair and feeding me compliments, that would be nice too.” An eye roll, and Debbie mutters something about me being nearly as theatrical as somebody named Carter Beckett. Do I immediately like him because we’re alike, or do I hate him because nobody outshines Cara Nicole Hunter? Only time will tell.

Joke’s on her; she tethered her whole-ass soul to mine six years ago, the day our eyes met across our tiny dorm room and we shared two shots of tequila. She’ll never get rid of me now.

And then those eyes come to mine. Warm and bright, sunshine and summer heating me from the tips of my toes all the way up to where it gathers in my chest and crawls into my cheeks. Impossibly wide and full of awe, like he’s just discovered there’s an eighth wonder of the world, and she’s standing right in front of him.

I don’t know what it is; truly, I don’t. Maybe it’s the way every ounce of exhaustion vanishes like clouds after a storm, revealing the bluest, clearest skies. Maybe it’s the way they demand every inch of my attention, daring me to look away. I can’t. I can’t look away, and I don't know why. For the first time in my life, I stand still and forget everything.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I’m⁠—” “No.” His jaw drops, and his teammates—and Debbie—snicker. “What? But I⁠—” “I can tell that word’s hard for you to comprehend, isn’t it? See, I said no, but I worry that what you heard was ‘please keep talking to me’.” My smile is every ounce as patronizing as it is soft as I touch two fingers to Carter’s chin, gently closing his mouth. “For clarity, fuck no, fuckboy.”

“You see, you forgot to get my name.” There go his eyes, roaming the length of me again, like he’s committing it to memory. He lays a hand over his heart like the saint he is. “And it would be heartless of me to let you walk away without it.” “Mmm. A considerate man, are we?” “Yup.” He slips large hands in his pockets, and Jesus, I don’t think the man has stopped smiling. He tips his head. “Emmett Brodie, at your service, my queen.”

“My, you’re eager. Aren’t you going to ask my name first?” “Nah. Already know it.” With a perfect, wide grin, Emmett Brodie deposits his phone into my hand. It’s opened to the New Contact page, except the name field has already been filled out. Mrs. Brodie.

“C’mon, Mrs. Brodie. The quicker we get through the formalities, the quicker we get to the fun stuff, like my ring on your finger and you in my bed for the rest of our lives.”

But that man out there? He’s not just six-foot-plus of golden locks, sky-blue eyes, and a panty-dropping grin highlighted by an impeccably carved jawline. He’s also … witty. Confident. Slightly arrogant, and deservedly so. Clever too, and all of those things put together? A lethal combination that has me mentally rearranging my schedule for the next fifty years or so for a fucking man. Have I lost my damn mind?

“Three thousand dollars,” Emmett Brodie whispers, chin tucked over my shoulder as he reads the brand-new bank transfer lighting my phone screen. “From?” I breathe through the tightness in my chest, the warmth seeping through my body. “My ex. He wants to get back together.” “I see.” His eyes come to mine. “Well, go on. Tell him you’re taken.”

I’ve thought about it. It’s a no. “Good girl. That certainly wasn’t an I’m taken, though.” Twisting between his arms, I lean back against the counter. “Because I’m not.” “Aren’t you?” He tilts his head, playfulness sparking in his blue gaze. “Hm. We’ll have to fix that.”

“Tomorrow.” “Tomorrow? You sure? Why not right now?” “We just met. I never do anything on day one. Virtue, and all that.” “Virtue is so important.” He taps my phone, lighting up the screen, illuminating the fact that, at 11:58 p.m. and three thousand down, Preston still hasn’t gotten the clue. “Okay then. Tomorrow.”

“This is my favorite birthday ever,” he murmurs against my skin. “What? It’s your birthday?” “Mhmm. For another two minutes, at least. New Year’s baby, freshly twenty-seven. Feels a lot like the first day of my life, though.” “Happy birthday,” I breathe, heart pounding at the feel of him pressed against me, his fingers dancing down my hair. “What did you get?” His palm settles in the curve of my lower back, his whisper pressed to my ear. “You.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” The sweet words skate roughly down my sides as he steps inside, gently forcing me backward. “It’s tomorrow.” My jaw dislodges, and he grins, gripping it as my back hits the counter. “Ah,” he whispers, thumb tracing my lower lip. “I was worried my cock wouldn’t fit in there, but now I see. Perfect mouth, just like the rest of you. You’ll have no trouble, will you?”

“But one look is all it took to know you had to be mine. I don’t deserve you now, but I’m gonna spend the rest of my life making up for that, and when I die, I’ll be a worthy man.” He tilts my head back, mouth hovering a breath from mine. “Tell me I can have you, gorgeous. Because it’s you or no one.”

“But you’re not going to say no, are you? You want to be worshipped. Crave it. Deserve it. And you want to let me do it.”

his eyes dancing when he calls me his filthy wife and promises to spend the rest of his life fucking me wherever and however I want.

My chest heaves but I swear my heart isn’t beating. It’s stalled, seized and waiting for something to bring it back to life. And then the crease in Emmett’s forehead smooths, and the most breathtaking smile spreads across his gorgeous face. “I fucking knew it,” is all he whispers before he wraps my legs around his waist. He dips his face, and when he breathes mine against my lips, my heart restarts.

It’s realizing that everyone before him has meant nothing, because this? This is what it feels like to be alive. To want something so bad all semblance of control leaves my body on a single breath. I want to give it up, all of it, the power I always squeeze tightly in my fist, and let him take it, wield it however he sees fit. I don’t have to wonder if I trust him enough; I just … do. I just do.

“This pussy was handmade by the gods.” “Gonna be destroyed by one too.” His thumb traps my lower lip. “Destroyed for anyone but me.” “You think you own it?” “Not yet, but I’m gonna.” A shaky exhale as he sinks further this time. He runs a hand over his mouth, eyes roaming my body. “I’ll tattoo mine on every part of you that belongs to me.” Fingertips bite into my thighs before spreading me wide. “Let’s start with these luscious thighs.”

“Can you believe I let you inside such an … exquisite pussy?” I pant out, biting back a cry as his cock carves out a home for itself inside me. “I’m so … nice.” “The nicest, baby. Next, your mouth, and one day? Your ass.” “Such a big dreamer.” “Big cock, big dreams.” Christ, this guy. Arrogant, but on him it’s hot. “Debbie said we can’t fuck. Team policy. Otherwise, if there was a next time, I’d totally give you my ass. Sorry.” “Liar,” he huffs out on a laugh. “Debbie said there’s no policy; I already asked.” My heartbeat skips. “You asked Debbie if you could fuck me?” “No, I asked Debbie if I could date you. For the record, though, had the answer been no, I would’ve said I don’t fucking care.” He pulls out abruptly, and before I can whine about it, he slaps my clit, making me cry out. “And that’s for lying to me.”

“How can you tell?” And why am I even entertaining this idea? Why does it feel … right? “Because my heart stopped when I saw you. Because when you turned to walk away, my body said I think the fuck not.” Sweat trickles down his temple, and his mouth takes mine in a searing kiss that has me trying to crawl inside him. “Because never in my life have I felt the way I feel right now, inside you, like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I don’t know why, but I know every time I look at you…brain just keeps screaming mine.” “You’re deranged.”

“And you love it. You want someone crazy for you, someone whose eyes are gonna follow you whenever you’re in the room. Someone who’s never gonna shut up about you. Who wants you at your best, your worst, and when you’re old and gray.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if the world ended and you aged and turned gray, I’d still fuck you up against the wall.” “Presuming your cock still worked.” “Baby, my cock is always gonna get hard for you.” “A romantic king.”

“Come on my cock, and you won’t come on another for the rest of your life.” His grip on my throat tightens, a ferocity in his gaze that dares me, dares me to try to find this feeling anywhere else. “That’s a promise.” “You’re not the boss of me.” “No,” he chuckles, watching me shake. “Something tells me it’ll be you who’s the boss. But right here? My cock inside you? I’m the boss. So come, and let everyone know who this pussy belongs to when you do it.”

“You wanna be a mom one day?” he asks as he tries—and fails—to fix my dress, the mess of hair on my head, and I think it’s wild he’s asking me this when he still hasn’t asked my first name. “One day,” I manage, gasping as I stumble, legs officially giving up the fight. Emmett catches me around the waist, pressing his whispered words to my mouth. That’ll be the second-best day of my life, right after the day I make you my wife.”

My gaze lifts to Emmett’s, and the love, empathy, and patience shining there is the only thing that brings my racing heart back to a steady thump. That’s my husband. At my side every step of the way. Fingers tangled in mine. Eyes that see it all. I knew myself before him. Knew who I was, what I was worth. But when he walked into my life three and a half years ago, my fate was sealed. There would never be a me again without Emmett Brodie.

There was Cara Hunter, the woman who was happy and capable of doing it all on her own. And then there was Cara Brodie, the woman who’d never need to do anything alone again, but with the man who reminded her day in and day out that she could. I was unstoppable before Emmett. With him, I’m indestructible.

THREE AND A HALF YEARS AGO: THE DAY AFTER THE FIRST DAY OF MY LIFE Normally, I consider myself a logical man. But if I were logical, I might not have taken one look at the prettiest woman I’d ever seen in my life, declared her my future wife for absolutely no reason other than that it felt like I’d spent my entire life blind until she graced my vision, hid in a bathroom until everyone left, then surprised her in the kitchen and, well … done what people do in kitchens. Eat.

“You’re … here,”

she’d appeared, extraordinary and glowing, but fleeting and elusive, like a firefly gone in the blink of an eye. I’ve always wanted to catch a firefly.

“You seem surprised,” I say, holding her gaze as she keys in the code to her building again, finishing it this time. “Which is weird, considering we’re getting married.”

“You’re not allowed to wear that in public,” I growl out, prowling toward her. “I wear whatever I want.”

“Am I in trouble?” she whispers, fisting my shirt, hauling me closer. Pillow-soft lips ghost along my jaw, up to my ear. “Because if so, then you’re really not gonna like this.”

“Oops. Guess I forgot to wear panties today.”

“Look at you, gorgeous. Such a pretty, greedy pussy, begging for my fingers. You want my cock too?”

“Yes, I looked into you. Yes, I chased Debbie for your name and your address and anything else she was willing to share about you. It wasn’t all that hard, and there was even some excited clapping on her end. All I had to do was tack on a pretty please and promise her a special mention during our wedding toast.” I drop my face to her neck, kissing the pulse point fluttering there. “I know what you feel like from the inside out. The exact shade of red your skin flushes when I’m making you feel good. The way your nails feel tearing at my shoulders, and the sounds you make when you’re coming.” My lips meet hers for a hungry kiss that has her hips rolling against mine. “I don’t need to know everything about you to want to date you. Getting to learn you is gonna be half the fun.”

“I’m not looking for a boyfriend.” “Of course not. You already have a husband.” The quirk of her lips before she gives me one more push. “I don’t want to be tied down.” “All right.” Flipping us over, I push her down to the bed, pin her wrists together above her head, and yank my belt free from my pants on the floor. I trail the tip of the brown leather down her torso. “Then how about tied up?”

“You have the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen.” I give her clit a hard suck before dragging my tongue along her slit, burying it hungrily inside her. “Feel free to swallow it, then. We both know how far back you can take it.”

“Anyway, this is Emmett⁠—” “Her boyfriend,” I tack on, nodding. Cara throws me a look. “He’s not my⁠—” “I am.” She pinches her nose. “Okay, not important right now.” “Mmm…” I tip my head side to side. “Pretty important.” “You’re so fucking annoying,” she says on a sigh, but it’s oddly…contented. She likes me annoying her. That’s good; I’m gonna be doing it for the rest of our lives.

“You love me the most. Love the way I look at you, the way I hold you. The way I kiss you,” he murmurs, and I turn my head, letting him capture my mouth, sighing as he eases his tongue inside. “Yeah.” He smiles against my lips. “You love the way I kiss you.” I do. Jesus, I do. I forget everything with his mouth on mine, everything but the way he makes me feel. Who needs sunshine when you have Emmett Brodie?

“You want more?” His tongue dances up my neck as he cages me in. “Then I get to decide what you get, how much more you can handle, and you’ll take it and say thank you. Say, Yes, Emmett.”

“Maybe I’ll fuck this hole right here, fill it with my cum and watch it drip out of you. Rub your pretty little cunt, get you all worked up, but stop right before you can finish. Your pussy will be clenching all day, empty, searching for me.” His mouth moves up the inside of my thighs, trading kisses for soft bites, the lash of his tongue. He pauses at the top, spreading me wide. “That what you want, gorgeous?” “No.” My head shakes desperately. “God, no.” “Then lose the fucking attitude and ask me nicely.”

Emmett Brodie fucks like a criminal on the run. One who knows he’s going down, who’s given in to the depravity, deciding to savor every last bit of his final meal. Emmett Brodie fucks me like a goddamn animal. And I love it.

“Adam!” Carter shrieks, knocking me out of my thoughts as he runs across the patio, soaking wet. “Get in the pool! I need you to hold me in your arms so I can be in the picture with everyone else.” “I’m not holding you.” Adam shuts the barbecue. “You’re a two-hundred-and-twenty-pound man, not a small child.” He flicks him between his eyes as he strolls by him. “Despite your maturity level.”

“Thank you for Stockholming me.” I don’t see the eyeroll, but I definitely feel it. The way he hangs his head, the pinch of his fingers on my ass. I bite back my laughter as our friends snort theirs out. “You did such a good job, baby.” “For the last time, I didn’t Stockholm you!” “Call it what you will, Emmett, but most people call handcuffing a woman to you and demanding she date you, and then that woman proceeding to actually fall in love with you, Stockholm Syndrome.” “You handcuffed me!” “Well, I had to assert my dominance.”

“I don’t think there’s ever been any doubt who’s in charge in this relationship. I’ve belonged to you since the second I saw you.”

My eyes rake over Emmett, and I’ve never been surer than I am in this moment that Mémère was right. I’d happily spend my days worshipping one of the finest creations this world has ever seen: Emmett Brodie.

If I have to tattoo mine on his hip, or his fucking forehead, so that every damn puck bunny trying to get his attention behind the window thingies knows he’s mine, I’m not above it.

“Ohhh, firefly,” he murmurs. “You’re fucking obsessed with me. I knew it.”