With a laugh, she turns to face me. “What makes you think you want to know all the deep, dark corners of my soul, Brody Michael Durham?”
“I want to know everything there is to know about you, Sabrina Yarida Matteo.”
By the end of the night, after keeping score, I’ve made twenty seven hits, and Sabrina has made thirty two.
I now know that she’s allergic to mushrooms. She hates to wear underwear period, but if she has to, she wears thongs or boy shorts. She wants to go to Coachella and Bonnaroo. She could spend the rest of her life in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. She was placed in Gifted and Talented Education courses when she was seven, and she’s been in the program since then. She reads, but she hates the classics. She’d rather watch black and white Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe movies than the cliche romantic comedies they release each year with the same plots over and over again. Peonies are her favorite flower. She used to be a chronic nail biter. She secretly loves country music. Her hair is her crowning glory, and she hasn’t had it cut in five years. She got to name Mila. She’s never called Ana anything but ‘Mom’ or ‘Mommy’. She likes musicals. She hates any seafood that isn’t shrimp, catfish, tilapia, or crab meat.
There are so many things to know about her, so many stones left unturned where knowing her is concerned. I can never know enough about her. And although she knows a lot about me, there’s still more to know. I look forward to the late night conversations, the early morning talks over coffee, where we unearth each other’s deepest, darkest secrets.
As I lead her out of the batting cage and back to the car, I assure her that our night is far from over. There’s this place I used to go, back when we still had our car. It was this mountain, up high. If you found the right spot, you could sit atop it and look down at Harlow. It takes half an hour to get there, and Sabrina and I quiz each other the entire way there.
I pull up to the perfect spot, which I discovered all by my lonesome about a year ago, and put the car in park. I leave the headlights on, then climb out. Heading to the trunk, I pull the items for the second half of our date. Setting a blanket down on the floor, I grab my cell phone and plug in the auxiliary cable and press play on the only country song I know—and the only one on my phone. When she hears it, she turns to glance at me with a ghost of a smile playing on her face.
I extend my hand for her, and she takes it gingerly. Wrapped in my arms, she brings her hands up to release her hair from its ponytail. Leaning back against my embrace, her hair drapes over my arms. I pull her to my chest and she sighs deeply.
We actually dance this time, the headlights shining bright before us, Harlow behind us, and the sounds of Rascal Flatts’ I Won’t Let Go surrounding us. We move in perfect sync with each other. The words hit me, saying precisely what I feel. Whatever goes on in her life, in mine, no matter how bad things get, I won’t ever let her go. I’m going to forever hold on to my unbroken girl.
Her head tilts upward and her brown eyes meet mine.
“I think you just made this my new favorite song,” she whispers, a second before she leans up on her tiptoes and kisses me.
This is the first kiss she’s initiated, and I love it much more than all the other ones for this very reason. Gripping her tightly, I place a hand in her hair and kiss her back with every ounce of love, faith, and strength I have inside me. I can tell she was holding back before, but she isn’t now. She’s giving me all she has, and I’m going to show her that she won’t regret it.
When our kiss breaks, I take one of her hands from around my neck, and raise it above her head. I spin her around, and, on her toes, she spins three times in perfect, rapid succession before she bumps right into me and sends both of us toppling to the ground. I turn my body just in time so I take all the impact, and she lands on top of me.
Her head resting on my stomach, she giggles uncontrollably. I wrap my arms around her and laugh right along with her. I can’t help it. Her happiness is infectious. And I want to see her like this for the rest of time. Carefree. Effervescent.
“Do you actually like country, too, or did you play that to impress me?” she asks, her voice all breathy and sexy.
“This is the only country song I know,” I admit bashfully.
She grins up at me, getting to her feet and dragging me back to mine. I stare at her as she hops into the driver’s seat of the car, and starts the song over. She jumps back out and strolls over to me. Caressing her face, I give her an inquisitive glance.
“It’s a good thing we can start the song over then, isn’t it?” She wraps her arms around me once more and sighs as I hold onto her like she’s my life preserver. “I could dance with you forever, babe.”
My breath escapes in a whoosh and I smile at the term of endearment she’s given me. “Me too, Dove. Me too.”
SEVENTEEN
I HAVE NO IDEA how Brody did all that he’s done for me tonight. I don’t know who he talked to or how he figured out all the things I liked, but this date has been so close to perfect, I must be in Heaven.
After we danced for hours to the same song on repeat in the glow of the headlights, he guided me back to the floor where we had possibly the longest makeout session in the history of makeout sessions. When I say that man can kiss, that man can fucking kiss. I’m honestly afraid that if he lets me, I’d be satisfied kissing him forever.
Now, we’re packing up our impromptu picnic and getting ready to head home. Every chance he get, Brody is putting his hands on me. Whether he’s grazing my hand when he asks for my help folding up the picnic blanket, or touching my ass when I’m bending over and putting things in the trunk, it’s like he can’t help but touch me. And to be honest, I love that he’s doing it. Half the time, I’m trying to make an excuse to touch him, but he’s completely unashamed to show how badly he wants me.
“Come here for a second, Dove,” Brody requests.
“You are insatiable, Mr. Durham,” I say with a grin when his hand snakes its way up my naked thigh. “I, however, refuse to have sex with you in my parents’ car, so if that’s what you’re looking to do, you shouldn’t have put the picnic blanket away.”
He laughs, grabbing my hips and pulling me toward him by the belt loops of my shorts. Once I’m against him, I immediately feel his erection press into my belly and he gives me a mischievous grin. I don’t know what’s going through that sex-crazed mind of his, but from the look on his face, I can gather some idea. He’s playful, romantic, and I can’t stop the smile from slowly creeping over my face. I wrap my arms around him, suddenly bashful.
“There are other things I can do to you, you know. In fact, I’ve got a couple ideas that don’t involve me having to penetrate you,” he says, and immediately I burst out laughing.
“Not a good enough reason to use the word ‘penetrate’,” I say through my fit of giggles, unable to resist throwing a movie quote out there.
He glares at me. Either he didn’t find what I said funny, or he’s confused as to where the quote came from, which puts me in the lead of our not-quite-official quote competition.
I try to walk away from him, and I feel his arms around my waist. He tries to pull me back to him, but I somehow maneuver my way out of his grasp and run around the car. He chases me around the Denali, and I’m a little faster than him. All those years of soccer and volleyball have definitely paid off. Before I know it, we’re in front of the trunk, standing opposite each other, both trying to decide how we’re going to win at the game we’re playing. I jerk to the left and he jerks to the left. I jerk to the right and he follows suit. I try to move fast enough to snake past him, but soon enough, his shoulder meets my stomach and I’m staring at his sculpted back as he holds me in a fireman’s carry. Giggles are bubbling up and out as he races toward the front of the car. As gently as possible, he sets me on the hood.
Panting from excitement, I prop myself up on my elbows, I watch as he descends on me. He kisses me once before dragging my shirt up my body and over my head. Trailing k
isses from my neck to my stomach, I am wound tighter the more he touches me and kisses me and adores me.
“You shouldn’t run from me, Dove,” he murmurs, a wicked smile stretching across his face.
Everything inside me is on fire as his blue-gray gaze devours me from head to toe. Every inch of me is covered in goosebumps and chills as he gives me a mischievous grin.
“Why not? I’m sure now that you’ve caught me, I’ll enjoy the consequences,” I say, knowing good and damn well that my words are going to spur him into action. He’s like a sleeping bear when he’s wound this tightly, when he wants to have sex, and I know exactly how to poke him. I prod him, bother him, push him to his limit until he breaks. And I really want him to break. “What’re you gonna do about it, babe?”
With a laugh, Brody grabs my legs and pulls me so I’m on the edge, my legs hanging off the hood of the car. He wraps them around his waist and I gasp, startled by the initiative he’s taking. He grabs my shorts, unbuttoning them and lifting my ass with one hand. Slowly, I feel my core tighten as he drags my shorts down, over my waist, down my legs, and when they get to my ankles, he pulls them off completely. He stops for a moment, taking a good look at my legs. A hungry gaze roams over my body, and once he’s done eating me up, his gaze lands on my shoes.
Suddenly, his hands come to my lace panties, and he rips them off of me in one fell swoop. He chuckles at my shoes, and I lick my lips in anticipation as I realize what he’s about to do.
My shoes say, “Eat Me.”
With a devilish grin, he places my legs on his shoulders and descends on me as he says, “It would be my pleasure.”
Oh, God.
…
“I can’t believe you ripped my underwear,” I say, pulling my shorts over my hips and shaking my head.
Brody walks over to me, a triumphant expression etched all over his perfect face, and he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll buy you a new pair. A hundred new pair. A thousand new pair.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, amused by his boldness. “Oh, yeah? You gonna rip those off me, too?”
“Duh. That’s why I’m buying them.”
“So long as you do exactly what you just did on top of the car, I don’t care how many panties you rip.”
He laughs, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me so I’m flush against him. He rests his chin on top of my head and I bury my face in his shirt. He holds me this way for a long while and then smiles down at me.
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks.
I shake my head, unsure of how to answer that question. There are so many things racing through my mind, so many emotions coursing through my heart that I don’t even know where to begin.
He makes me feel so much that I never thought I would ever feel again. After the debacle with Maddox, I had pretty much given up hope that I would ever find someone to make me happy. I had given up the thought that I could connect with someone on a level higher than sexual attraction. And shit, I had given up on the hope that I’d find Lewellyn’s Guy again.
“That I couldn’t be any happier with anyone than I am right now with you.” I glance up in time to see him start grinning like crazy at me. “And that I want to know if you feel the same way.”
He grabs my face in both of his hands, elbows, I watch as he descends on me. He kisses me once before dragging my shirt up my body and over my head. Trailing kisses from my neck to my stomach, I am wound tighter the more he touches me and kisses me and adores me.
“You shouldn’t run from me, Dove,” he murmurs, a wicked smile stretching across his face.
Everything inside me is on fire as his lust-filled gaze completely devours me from head to toe. I am liquid, having melted beneath his fiery stare. Being in his mere presence turns me into putty 99.9% of the time, but today, there’s something about him. I don’t know if it’s the romantic side of him that I got to see for the first time earlier tonight, or if it’s the sexy, playful side of him that he showed me mere moments ago, but either way, if he told me to jump right now, I’m liable to say ‘How high?’
“Why not? I’m sure now that you’ve caught me, I’ll enjoy the consequences,” I say, ready and willing to find out what exactly he has in store for me now that I’ve made him run and chase after me.
With a laugh, Brody grabs my legs and pulls me so I’m on the edge, my legs hanging off the hood of the car. He wraps them around his waist and I gasp, startled by the initiative he’s taking. He grabs my shorts, unbuttoning them and lifting my ass with one hand. Slowly, I feel my core tighten as he drags my shorts down, over my waist, down my legs, and when they get to my ankles, he pulls them off completely. He stops for a moment, taking a good look at my legs. A hungry gaze devours me from head to toe, and once he’s done eating me up, his gaze lands on my shoes.
Suddenly, his hands come to my lace panties, and he rips them off of me in one fell swoop. He chuckles at my shoes, and I lick my lips in anticipation as I realize what he’s about to do.
My shoes say, “Eat Me.”
With a devilish grin, he places my legs on his shoulders and descends on me as he says, “It would be my pleasure.”
Oh, God.
…
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ripped my underwear,” I say, pulling my shorts over my hips and shaking my head.
Brody walks over to me, a triumphant expression etched all over his perfect face, and he presses a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll buy you a new pair. A hundred new pair. A thousand new pair.”
I raise an eyebrow at him, amused by his boldness. “Oh, yeah? You gonna rip those off me, too?”
“Duh. That’s why I’m buying them.”
“So long as you do exactly what you just did on top of the car, I don’t care how many panties you rip.”
He laughs, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me so I’m flush against him. He rests his chin on top of my head and I bury my face in his shirt. He holds me this way for a long while and then smiles down at me.
“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks.
I shake my head, unsure of how to answer that question. There are so many things racing through my mind, so many emotions coursing through my heart that I don’t even know where to begin. He keeps me on my toes, keeps my emotions on edge. When I’m with him, I’m on cloud nine. Everything about him makes me question everything I thought I knew about life and hope and love.
He makes me feel so much that I never thought I would ever feel again. After the debacle with Maddox, I had pretty much given up hope that I would ever find someone to make me happy. I had given up the thought that I could connect with someone on a level higher than sexual attraction. And shit, I had given up on the hope that I’d find Lewellyn’s Guy again.
I don’t know if he knows the true story abut how we first met, and I’m not even sure I want to tell him. Right now, we’re in this blissful honeymoon stage where no one can touch us, and to be honest, I’m quite happy to be here. Nothing and no one exists outside of the two of us, especially right now, especially after the best night of my life. I don’t know how he feels right now, but this is about as good as it gets for me. I can’t imagine being this happy with anyone but Brody.
Shortly after what happened with Maddox, he proceeded to tear me down. He told me that no one would ever love me like he did, that no one would ever care for me the way he did, and that I was going to be miserable because no one wants to fall in love with someone with as many scars as I have. And I believed him. I believed him with every fiber in my being because the two people I loved the most, him and my mother, left me in the worst way possible. It’s easy for me to believe that it’s always going to be that way, especially when I don’t have many people to convince me otherwise.
“Bree,” Brody says, his bluish-grayish eyes searching mine.
I shake my head to try and put Maddox out of my thoughts, planting myself in the here and now with the man of my dreams.
“That I couldn’t be a
ny happier with anyone than I am right now with you.” I glance up in time to see him start grinning like crazy at me. “And that I want to know if you feel the same way.”
He grabs my face in both of his hands, grazing the apples of my cheeks with the pads of his thumbs. His forehead falls forward to rest against mine and he pants, his breath caressing my lips as his blue gaze meets my brown ones.
He’s silent, and he takes a long time to even breathe, let alone speak. I notice he does this. It’s like he thinks long and hard about everything before he opens his mouth, and I wonder why that is. What is he afraid of? That he’ll say the wrong thing and I’ll get mad at him? That he’ll say the wrong thing and I’ll leave? That’s not possible, not after the connection we shared the first time we made love, not after all he’s done for me tonight to break my walls down.
I’m not ready for what he’s about to say, because whatever words escape his mouth will either make me or break me. And to be quite honest, either scenario scares the living shit out of me.
Brody scares the living shit out of me.
I don’t know how to let go, how to give myself over completely to someone like him, someone who is, by his own admission, so damaged that he’s afraid to drag me into the crossfire. I don’t know how to give myself to someone who is basically the complete mirror image of myself, someone who feels the same way about love and life as I do.
But when he inhales, a deep, calming breath, I know that what he’s about to say is going to change everything.
“I feel more than I even know how to explain,” he whispers, and I close my eyes in response, barely able to breathe. “No, open your eyes, Dove. I need you to look at me.” My eyes snap open and I stare at him through tear-filled eyes. “I feel everything you feel, and sometimes I wish I didn’t. Feeling this way for you opens up a door for you to get hurt, and that’s the last thing I want to happen. But if you want me to be honest, I like you so much, Sabrina Yarida Matteo, because you make me feel a little less broken.”
Unbroken Page 15