by Jill Shalvis
“You’re going to be taking that back.”
She smiled, like that had been her goal all along, and images of taking her right here and now in the Jeep flooded his mind.
“Take the next exit,” Lilah said. “Echo Canyon.”
He shook his head. “Granite Flat is faster.”
She didn’t protest, but she did give him a long look.
“Problem?” he asked.
“No. I don’t have a problem with your control issues at all.”
He rolled his eyes.
“In fact,” she said, “in certain areas, your control issues are kind of hot.”
Again his gaze swiveled her way. “Certain areas?”
“In bed, for instance.” She sucked some melted cheese off her finger.
Slowly.
“Lilah,” he said, voice a little lower now.
“Yes?” She sucked on another finger.
“Stop.”
She kept sucking. “Stop what?”
Without warning, and gaze still on the road, Brady reached out with quick, accurate precision and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “What did I tell you about payback?”
“That I love it?”
He laughed softly, and sucked her last cheesy finger into his hot, wet mouth.
When her eyes drifted shut with a soft moan, he nipped her finger with his teeth, making her gasp. “And when I say later, I mean it.” Smiling, he let go of her and turned his concentration back to the road.
They drove in silence for a while as Twinkles napped—and snored. Brady enjoyed the relative quiet. Lilah was wearing softly faded jeans that whenever she leaned forward to adjust the radio, sank low in the back, giving him peek-a-boo glimpses of smooth skin and the very hint of incredibly sweet twin dimples.
He wanted to dip his tongue in those dimples.
As for that ass, he wanted to cup it in his hands and—
“You’re on the shoulder of the road, Brady.”
Fuck. He swerved back. “Well, if you’d stop distracting me . . . ”
“Distracting you?” She pulled one of her legs up and beneath her, twisting to smile at him. Her shirt gaped a little, revealing a curve of breast and another hint of baby blue silk. The lingerie from the Pharmacy. “How can I be distracting you? I’m just sitting here,” she asked, the picture of innocence.
“I’ll pull over,” he warned her.
Damned if she didn’t look intrigued, making him both groan and laugh at the same time.
“No,” she finally said. “I don’t think you will.” She ran a hand up his thigh, found him through his jeans and outlined him with a finger.
He nearly jerked them off the road again. Luckily the narrow two-lane highway was utterly deserted. He pulled over so fast they both were rudely yanked back by their seat belts.
Twinkles scrambled for purchase on the backseat.
“Wha—” was all she got out before he’d unhooked her seat belt and hauled her over the console and into his lap.
He had his mouth on hers and his hands in her pants in one heartbeat, and in the next he had her whimpering for more. He kept that up for long minutes until she was rocking her hips and panting.
“Oh God.” She arched to him. “Please . . .” She was breathless, head back, eyes closed. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “Come for me,” he whispered in her ear, stroking her in the way he knew made her crazy, making her gasp and cry out his name.
And she did. She burst and shuddered in his arms and while she made her way back to planet Earth, he held her close against his chest, face buried in her hair. She would probably call it cuddling.
He called it regaining his sanity.
Holding her was his sanity.
Before she’d stirred a muscle, her cell phone rang from somewhere in her purse on the floor. She lifted her head and stared at Brady, hair all wild, face flushed, mouth open. “My ears are ringing.”
“It’s your cell.”
She looked so adorably, gorgeously befuddled. “Oh. I knew that.” Feeling around for it, she finally got it open. “Hello? Yes, ma’am, we’ll get there before dark.” Craning her neck, she looked out the window.
It was already dusk. Her eyes caught on his obvious erection straining the denim, then met his, and in them was an apology but also amusement.
He pushed her back to her side of the Jeep and put it into gear before pulling back onto the road.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I owe you.”
He liked the sound of that, but it didn’t help his condition any. He shouldn’t have touched her, but he couldn’t help it—she was the hottest, sexiest thing he’d ever seen, and watching her come was his new favorite drug of choice.
“Don’t you think we should fix this before we get there?” She reached out to touch, stroking him through the denim, making him groan. “Later,” he said.
“You’ve got a lot of laters.”
“Don’t worry, I always collect my debts.”
They got to the ranch fifteen minutes later, right at sunset. Years before, the owners had given up the actual ranching to their kids, and then their kids’ kids. Mr. Leo Johnson was a big guy, but it was clear that his wife, Ellen, was completely in charge. She took one look at Brady and raised a penciled-in brow. “Dr. Death! Honey,” she said to her husband, “look, it’s Dr. Death! Nice article.”
“Thank you,” Brady said, sliding a glance at Lilah, who was grinning. He wanted to be annoyed, but the sight of her genuine amusement always derailed him.
Ellen introduced them to the three homeless dogs she’d found, each a Collie mix and probably litter mates as well. They were clearly neglected but dying for affection and made immediate friends with Twinkles.
Lilah said she’d have little trouble finding them homes, but before Brady could help her load them up, Ellen had dinner on the table and refused to let them go without eating.
Leo said grace and thanked God for the food, the house, the ranch, and every single animal on the ranch, and then his children, and his children’s children, and then for the past fifty years with a great woman, and just before Brady fell asleep at the table, his ears pricked up as Leo added, “and for bringing a new couple by for company tonight.”
Brady turned his head to meet Lilah’s wide eyes. Couple? she mouthed, looking so horrified he nearly laughed.
Leo smiled. “Sorry, it’s just very obvious that you two are recently together.”
“Yes,” Ellen said. “You keep staring at each other or touching in some way.”
Brady looked down and noticed that indeed he was thigh to thigh with Lilah, and even more telling, he had an arm draped over the back of her chair, his fingers tracing absent circles on her shoulder. His fingers froze midtrace.
“So, how long has it been?” Ellen asked, passing around the thick pot roast and heart-attack-in-the-making mashed potatoes that were the best mashed potatoes Brady had ever tasted. “I mean, I assume this is brand-new,” she said with a secret smile at her husband. “Since there was no mention of a relationship in the Dr. Death article, and we all know how thoroughly invasive that gossip rag can be.”
“Um,” Lilah said, looking uncomfortable. “Well, to be honest, we’re not—”
Brady reached under the table and squeezed her knee. He didn’t know what came over him, probably retribution for how she’d mercilessly teased him in the Jeep, but he heard himself say, “Don’t be shy, honey.”
She stared at him, clearly concerned he’d lost his marbles.
And he had. The day he’d met her.
“Oh, tell us the whole story,” Ellen said, clapping her hands with glee. “I love a real-life romance.”
Brady smiled at Lilah. “Go ahead, darlin’. You tell it.”
Lilah’s eyes narrowed on Brady. Her fork was still in midair, full of potatoes that he suspected she might want to fling into his face as she contemplated him. “Well, sweetheart,” she said, “it’s just that I don’t know where to star
t.”
Ellen was smiling so eagerly. “At the beginning!”
Lilah looked at her and hesitated. Clearly, she was willing to go head-to-head with Brady in a battle of wills, but she wasn’t so willing to be rude or cruel. But she must have gotten over that because she said, “We met at the beauty salon in town.”
Brady had been smiling, feeling pretty damn pleased with himself for one-upping her—until this.
“Yeah,” Lilah went on, clearly gaining steam. “Brady was at his weekly grooming session.” She leaned into Ellen as if departing with a state secret and continued in a stage whisper, “He’s very hairy, you see.”
Brady choked on his peas.
“Wax or laser?” Ellen whispered. “My son-in-law swears by his monthly male Brazilian.”
“Brady, too,” Lilah said, patting a still coughing Brady on the back. “You okay, baby?” She smiled sweetly at him and began shoveling her food in as if she hadn’t eaten in a week. “Oh, Mrs. Johnson, this is all so delicious!”
Brady finally recovered. “Lilah cooks, too, Ellen. Actually, she’s an incredible baker. She makes the most amazing desserts.”
Now it was Lilah’s turn to go pale. The only thing she baked was store-bought cookie dough.
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Ellen exclaimed.
“And you should see her on the fly,” Brady said. “That’s her specialty—improvising.”
Lilah narrowed her eyes at him but before she could respond, Ellen spoke again. “Oh, that is a talent. Maybe you can demonstrate,” she said hopefully. “I have just about everything you could need for any recipe.”
Lilah sent Brady a look of sheer, undulated panic, followed by a look that promised her own payback.
That was okay. After the male Brazilian thing, he was pretty sure he could take whatever she dealt out. Smiling, he leaned back and shot her his best your turn look, which she returned with a you-are-so-going-down volley.
Fine by him. He’d go down with her any day. With her, on her . . . however and wherever she wanted.
Seventeen
Alittle while later, Lilah escaped to the Johnsons’ very small, slightly fussy bathroom at the end of the hallway and stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were bright, and there were two spots of color on her cheeks. She looked under the influence.
And she was.
She was under the influence of lust. Damn Brady for baiting her, for making her feel . . .
Alive. The man made her feel so alive.
She was still staring at herself when the door opened. A big, warm, built body nudged her over, making room so he could squeeze in behind her.
“What are you doing?” she whispered.
Brady gave her a look that made her nipples pebble up against her shirt as he reached out and hit the lock.
Click.
It echoed over the pounding of her heart. Staring at him in the mirror, she shook her head. “Brady—”
“Lilah,” he said calmly. Stepping closer, he forced her up against the sink. His hands gripped the tile at either side of her hips, trapping her in. “A male Brazilian?” His voice was that deep half growl she’d heard only when they were naked and he was whispering erotic, explicit promises in her ear, the ones that never failed to make her blush.
“Well, hey, for all I know you really do wax.”
He pressed himself against her butt. He was hard.
“Oh no,” she whispered on a laugh even as she rocked back against him, causing him to hiss in a breath. She stopped breathing entirely and went damp. “We can’t.”
Seeing right through her, he smiled into the mirror, slow and extremely badass.
Oh no. No, she wasn’t going to melt just because he was giving her that look. “You have to go,” she whispered, attempting to elbow him away. “Shoo.”
He made a sound that might have been a snort of laughter. “Can’t.”
“Why not?”
He grabbed her hand and brought it behind her to cup over his crotch.
“Oh my God.” But her fingers stroked him. Bad fingers.
Brushing her hair out of the way, he leaned down to nibble on her neck. “Can’t help it,” he murmured against her skin. “You have this effect on me.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and a horrifyingly needy, hungry little whimper escaped her, loud enough that she lifted her own hands and clamped them over her mouth.
“Mmm,” he barely breathed against her ear. “Love that sound.” His hands slid from her hips upward, beneath her top.
“What are you doing now?”
“If you don’t know, I’m doing it wrong.”
Oh, she knew. And the truth was, she’d do whatever he wanted and they both knew it. Ever since he’d come to town with those sharp, assessing eyes and hard-but-oh-so-giving mouth and all that testosterone, her body had been a complete traitor. His tongue rimmed her ear and she had to lock her knees to remain upright. “Oh God.”
“Give me a minute and you’ll be saying ‘Oh, Brady.’” He ran his fingers lightly down her arms and then encircled her wrists, setting them on the counter’s edge, indicating she should keep them there. She wriggled back against him, grinding her bottom into his erection. “Hold still,” he commanded softly in her ear.
She shivered and it was entirely possible she had a mini-orgasm. If he hadn’t been pinning her between the hard sink and his even harder body, she’d have slithered bonelessly to the floor.
Then his hands slid beneath her shirt and ran up her rib cage, stopping just short of her breasts.
She held her breath but couldn’t quite keep quiet. “Touch me!”
He pushed her shirt up and the cups of her bra down and, watching her reaction closely in the mirror, palmed her breasts. Then one of his very talented hands slid slowly down her belly and into her pants. “Oh Jesus.” His breath was hot against her ear. “You’re ready for me.”
She’d been ready for him since she’d first laid eyes on him, and she didn’t see that changing anytime soon.
His hands went to her hips and before she could draw her next breath, he’d shoved her jeans to her thighs, groaning softly in her ear at the sight of the baby blue thong he’d bought her. There was something incredibly thrilling about being so exposed while he was fully dressed behind her, watching himself touch her in the mirror.
“I—” She gasped when he gave one quick yank and ripped the underwear off her.
“I’ll buy you more. Hell, I’ll buy you an entire Victoria’s Secret store,” he promised, his voice a rough, barely there growl as he slid his hand between her thighs. “I can’t get enough of you, I can’t.”
She met his gaze. His eyes were no longer playful but dark and filled with a dangerous emotion. Dangerous, because now it wasn’t just her good parts aching. No, the nameless ache spread and hit her heart with deadly precision. Turning in his arms, she twisted her hands into his shirt, and then their mouths connected, hot and demanding. His tongue touched hers at the same moment his fingers slid home. Her toes began to curl, but he slowly withdrew, making her whimper.
“Later,” he murmured, but continued to hold her close.
Panting, Lilah dropped her head to Brady’s chest. “I hate