by Cass Kincaid
“What did you just say?” The bottom seems to fall out of my stomach as I stare at him.
Jackson has got his phone in his hand, but he raises both hands in surrender. “Sorry, I’m just saying—”
“Jackson!” I’m struggling with impatience. “Her personal motto. Say it again.”
“Live quiet?” He’s looking at me like I have two heads. “Something about just wanting a simple life and blah, blah, fucking blah.”
“Shit,” I hiss, turning away from him. You’ve got to be kidding me. “It all makes sense now.”
“Wanting a simple life?” Jackson’s eyebrows arch in confusion. “Didn’t know that was your thing.”
“No, dumbass,” I snap, heading for the door. “Call her, Jackson, and do it now. I want her to hear you confess that you lied before I see her again.”
“Good luck,” I hear him snicker under his breath. “When’s that going to be?” Then, louder so I can here him, “I’m calling her right now, cool your jets.”
When’s that going to be? That’s what he asked me.
I pull out my phone and reopen the LookingForLove.com app. According to the messages, LaughLoudLiveQuiet hasn’t read my previous message, which is fine. I send another message to follow it up.
Ignore that previous message. I’ll see you at eight. Bring your laughter and those pretty eyes.
According to that message, I’m going to see Corinne again tomorrow night.
Chapter Thirteen
Corinne
I’ve spent the last two years blaming Jackson Marsh for my heartache and bitterness. It turns out I’ve got no one to blame but myself.
This is all my fault. It has to be, seeing as I allowed not only one Marsh brother to pull the wool over my eyes and tear my heart out, but two.
I couldn’t bear to be by myself in my little apartment after I spoke with Brody on the phone, so I called Jenn and told her everything. She could have just listened and told me what an idiot Brody was to make me feel better, but no. Jenn did one better, she showed up with a bottle of wine and a takeout pizza. Then she listened to everything all over again and told me what an idiot he was.
Thank God for Jenn.
“Don’t you think for a minute you did anything wrong,” she’s saying for the hundredth time. “If Brody Marsh was giving off signals that he was playing a game and was a lying son of a bitch, I didn’t see them, either.”
I swallow down the last of the wine in my glass, shaking my head. “I just can’t believe this. I fell for it all. The legal battle for custody, the single daddy spiel, the rugged-looking hockey player with smooth moves, all of it. He might be an idiot, but he isn’t the only one, Jenn.”
“You’re not an idiot!” she exclaims more exuberantly than she normally would if she didn’t have a half bottle of wine in her system. “You’re a pretty, successful woman who put her heart on the line and finally opened herself up to someone. There’s no shame or blame in that. That man didn’t deserve the chance to have your heart, Cori, but that’s on him, not on you.”
“That doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I confide, my shoulders slumping.
“Hey.” Jenn pulls herself up from where she’s sprawled out on the couch into a sitting position and eyes me intently. “You need to just take your mind off Brody Marsh, asshole extraordinaire, and go have fun tomorrow night with this mystery man you met online.”
I must be nuts to still be planning to go meet EyesAreEverything tomorrow night. But honestly, I’m looking forward to it. We’ve already established that this is a purely platonic friendship we’ve got, and frankly, I could use a friend right now. Not that Jenn isn’t helping, but it’ll be nice to spend a few hours with someone who isn’t hell-bent on reminding me that there are other fish in the sea, other men who aren’t complete jerks like the Marsh brothers.
Unfortunately, right now, I’m not even interested in seeking out those other men. Because it hurts to know that Brody played me for a fool right from the beginning, that he is no better than Jackson.
But it’s not like I can just turn off my desire for him and pretend like I didn’t sleep with him, that I didn’t feel something for him...that I didn’t feel something for his son.
I did feel something for him...and I still do. It’s masked by the pain he’s putting me through, but the desire for him is still there, along with all the promises and dreams I’d been allowing myself to hear and see since he’d knocked down the defensive walls built around my heart.
But he ruined this, not me. And I’ve got to remember that. Which is exactly why I am going to go meet the man from LookingForLove.com, because even a platonic relationship with respect in it is better than a romantic relationship without it.
***
I knew the restaurant would be packed even before I set foot inside it. I had to drive around the parking lot four times, up and down the rows of vehicles, before I finally found a parking spot. Inside, there was a crowd of people huddled by the doorway, waiting for their names to be called to snatch up the next free table.
It hadn’t occurred to me until now to ask whether he’d made a reservation or not. God, I hoped so. But I had no way of asking the hostess if there was, in fact, one because I didn’t know the man’s real name. I somehow didn’t think he’d be odd enough to make the reservation under EyesAreEverything.
Instead of asking questions, I decide to take a glance around the restaurant. Maybe I could somehow discern if anyone had a pair of eyes that matches the profile picture I’d been staring at for the past few weeks.
There are people everywhere. Tables are pulled together in one area to make room for a gathering of at least twenty people, and there are chairs pulled up to numerous tables so more people can fit at the end of the booth or in between other chairs at the more open tables. So many people, so much laughter and smiling and chattering going on.
That’s why it’s so easy to pick out the guy sitting at one of the tables in the far corner of the room. He’s by himself, his head down as his eyes look over the menu but don’t seem to really take in the words on it. He isn’t smiling or laughing like everyone else, and there’s only one chair pulled up to the small table he’s sitting at, the one across from him that remains empty, with a menu and set of utensils set up on the table in front of it.
He’s waiting for someone, too.
But as he senses the intensity of my stare from across the room and raises his head to meet my gaze, I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole.
Because Brody is sitting at a table for two, waiting patiently for his date to arrive.
And that date isn’t me.
He’s up and out of his chair before I’ve even managed to turn around completely and bolt for the door. I’m distraught and my movements are hasty, spurred on by my impending meltdown. I barely see the large, balding man who’s rising from his chair to shuffle into his jacket before I run smack into him.
“Oh, Jesus, I’m sorry,” I stammer, trying to get around him. But my clumsiness has allowed Brody the time needed to catch up to me, and his hand manages to come down on my forearm to stop me from running farther away.
“Corinne, what are you doing here?”
I whirl around, pulling out of his grasp angrily. “You don’t have any right to ask me that,” I snap. “But if you must know, I’m waiting for some—”
My gaze burns into his, and suddenly I notice something in the way the overhead lighting reflects in Brody’s eyes. The blue hue—piercing blue with flecks of grayish silver, a combination I’ve only ever seen in a picture.
On LookingForLove.com.
“Son of a bitch,” I hiss under my breath. Unable to tear my eyes away from his, unable to figure out how in the hell I didn’t see it until right now. “You’re him,” I murmur. “You’re EyesAreEverything.”
“And you’re LaughLoudLiveQuiet,” he says quietly with a crooked grin. “I know.”
“You knew?” I exclaim, my eyes widening.
; “Only since last night, Corinne, I swear.” He looks unsure of himself, fearful I might slap him or go off the rails in this restaurant. “Jackson made a comment when I confronted him, something about your own personal motto. It clicked. That’s when I knew I had to go through with this meetup.”
My mind is racing, catapulting so many thoughts and things I want to scream at him that I’m not even sure where to start. But there’s one thing that stands out, one thing my brain manages to cling to long enough to let it surface above everything else. “You were going to cancel,” I say dumbly. “Because of me.”
The words of the message I’d received from his username come back to me clearly, because I’d pondered what it must be like to meet someone you were that sure of, that enamored by.
I have met someone. A really, really amazing woman. She’s completely unexpected. She’s also completely wonderful. I don’t think it would be fair to meet someone else at this point in time, not to you and not to her. I’m just not that kind of guy.
Brody nods. “I meant it when I told you I was someone you could trust, Corinne.” His hands reach out instinctively as though to touch me, but he stops, a tentative edge to his expression. “I know Jackson tried to break that trust, but I confronted him. I told him in no uncertain terms—”
“He texted me,” I interject, swallowing down the lump forming in my throat. “Seven times, to be exact. Because I wouldn’t respond. He said he needed to make sure I understood that he lied and that none of what he’d said to me was true. I figured you must have had something to do with his change of heart.”
“It was me, yes.” He smirks down at me. “And the countless threats to do bodily harm to him if he didn’t tell you himself.”
“Again, I figured as much.” My lips are pursed to suppress the amusement that wants to show through, purely because I’m not sure I’m ready to forgive him just yet. “I can’t believe it’s been you on the other end of that stupid dating site the entire time.”
“Believe me, I just about fell over when I realized we’d been talking to each other, too,” he admits, chuckling quietly.
“I do,” I say evenly.
“Do what?” Confusion mars his features.
“Believe you.” I let my hands reach out, entwining my fingers with his. “I shouldn’t have let Jackson persuade me otherwise.”
“I don’t blame you for listening to him, Corinne. It all sounded plausible, I’m sure.” His hands squeeze my fingers, and the heat of his skin sends an intoxicating mixture of warmth and electricity pulsing through my body. “That doesn’t matter anymore, though.”
“No?” I arch an eyebrow, letting the first hint of a grin tug at the corner of my mouth.
“Nope,” he assures me. “Because you’re here now, with me. Can I take you on a date, Corinne Hastings?”
Butterflies flutter lightly in my stomach and I bite down on my bottom lip as I pretend to think about it. “I thought this wasn’t a date, Mr. Blue Eyes?” I grin wide. “Thought this was just a meetup between friends?”
Brody looks about ready to either burst into laughter or steer me toward the door to get me all to himself. “Believe me,” he says again. “There’s nothing platonic about this date, Corinne.”
Heat rises in my cheeks with the intensity and certainty of his words. “Good,” I say, suddenly feeling a bit breathless. “I was hoping you’d say that. Lead the way, Mr. Marsh.”
Epilogue
Brody
Four Months Later...
“Shh, or you’re going to wake him up!”
I have my shirt off already, tossing it to the floor just as I make it inside the bedroom door. I only close the door partway, kicking it softly with my foot, so we can still hear Spencer if he does wake from his nap. But we’ve gotten pretty good at being quiet—well, as quiet as two people can be when they can’t keep their hands off each other—and it’s a rare occasion that our antics have wakened my little boy from sleep.
My mouth is devouring Corinne’s, too caught up in the need to be as close to her as I can be, against her, inside her, to think about whether or not I’m being selfish with my lust-ridden movements. I’m beyond caring, and by the looks of the blazing fire of desire in her hazel eyes, I’d say she doesn’t care either.
It’s never been just about the sex with us, but damn it, there’s no denying the truth—sex with Corinne is unbelievable. My hands graze over every contour of her abdomen, then her breasts as I pull her shirt from her body. Her bra follows soon after, and I make short work of getting those sexy skinny jeans she loves to wear off, too.
“God, you are so gorgeous, Cori.” I’ve said this to her so many times, but she still blushes deeply at the sound of it. She’s so adorable that way.
She bends down to remove her panties, and on the way back up she reaches out to undress me as well. Her fingers move quickly, unbuttoning my shirt—she’s just as desperate to feel her skin against mine.
My hair is still damp from the shower I took after the game—we won the playoffs only a few hours ago, and Corinne is definitely in the mood to celebrate with me. The other guys on my team might be out drinking up a storm and hitting on everything that moves, but you can bet I’ve got nowhere I would rather be than right here, with this woman in my arms.
We make it to the bed, and by then she’s got me completely undressed. The sound of our labored breathing is the only noise I hear save for the barely audible whimpers that come from Corinne’s mouth each time my tongue drags across her collarbone and I kiss and nip at her neck.
“Do you want me, babe?” Corinne’s voice is distant, words spoken on a sigh.
I hove over her, lifting my head from her collarbone to fix my eyes on hers. “If you’d asked me what I wanted more than anything in the world a few hours ago, Cori, my answer wouldn’t have been to win that hockey game.” My chest heaves. “It would be to have you. And that is still my answer, always will be.” I lean down and kiss her mouth softly, letting my tongue linger against her bottom lip just long enough to make her whimper again. “I love you, Corinne, and there’s no one else I’ll ever want more than I want you.”
Instead of responding with words, Corinne’s body answers for her. I see her pupils dilate, and she lifts her head to claim my mouth again. This time, the kiss between us is anything but soft. I kiss her back with matched desperation, groaning when she bucks her hips up to grind her sweet pussy against my straining erection.
This woman is going to be the death of me, making me ache so viciously that I can barely think straight. But what a way to go out.
Her hands slide between us, gripping my stiff cock in her hand. A low, guttural moan rips through me again, and I rock myself against her just to feel the friction I so badly desire. Anything to ease the insane desperation that is coursing through my veins like wildfire.
“Corinne.” Her name is a warning on my lips.
She’s either calling my bluff or trying to see how far she can push me, because a dark flash of blatant desire rages in her eyes as she squeezes my thick shaft between her fingers and strokes the silky smooth skin of it harder, faster.
“Fuck, Cori,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
“Yes,” she pants, rolling the pad of her thumb over the tip of my cock, spreading the drop of precum across it. “Fuck. Please, Brody.”
An aching plea on her sexy, pouty mouth completely undoes me every damn time. My eyes are locked with hers as I roll my hips forward, letting her guide my cock toward her entrance. Jesus, she’s so wet, so ready for me. I hesitate just so I can hear her beg for me again, watching as her throat moves visibly and her eyes squeeze shut momentarily in hopes of composing herself.
“Please,” she pleads again.
I sink into her sweet, wet core, a growl on my lips and a desperate need to be as close to her as I can be driving my movements. “Oh, Jesus, Cori, you’re so fucking perfect.”
I don’t give her a chance to respond, devouring her mouth as I begin to move withi
n her, stroking her inner walls with my cock as I pull in and out of her. At first, my thrusts are easy, gentle, because I want to relish every delicious moment of being inside her and claiming her as my own. The sensual pain that comes with her nails digging into my back as I push so deeply inside her only heightens my arousal, and my thrusts quickly become more urgent, more aggressive as I become consumed by my desire to claim her completely.
“Oh, Brody!” Her cry sounds strangled as she struggles to keep her voice low, and one hand reaches out across the bedcovers to fist tightly in the fabric, gripping it as though it’s a lifeline. “Yes,” she breathes. “Oh God, yes.”
Seeing her beneath me, with her nipples hardened and her breasts jiggling slightly with each forceful thrust—I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. I lower my mouth onto her nipple and suck hard. Corinne’s hand immediately releases the blankets and clamps over her own mouth to stifle the sounds careening from it. My teeth nip at the tight bud and she squirms beneath me, but she manages to swallow down the passionate sounds and only emit a breathless whimper.
I reach up and pull her hand from her mouth. I entwine her fingers with mine and push our clasped hands down onto the mattress beside her head. I can feel the telltale clenching of her pussy around my cock, squeezing me and absorbing every pulse and twitch I make as I continue my sensual plight.
“Come for me, Cori,” I whisper against her cheek. “Come on, baby.”
A series of incoherent ohs and ahs topple from her mouth. Corinne is fighting it, clinging to that last shred of control she has. I can relate—I don’t want this to end, either. There’s nothing more delicious than tasting her mouth, plunging inside her, and feeling her soft, scorching skin against mine as every muscle within her becomes taut and tight with her building orgasm.
“Brody,” she begs. “Oh God, Br—”
The thread of control she’d possessed only a second ago snaps under the force and weight of the orgasm that tears through her body, and she shatters beneath me with a wild gasp.