I looked at him, giggling a bit. “What?”
“Just picture the biggest, darkest sky you’ve ever seen, pricked with a million stars.”
“Ah.” I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m picturing.”
“It was supposed to clear up. See that glow over there, near the horizon?” I followed the way he pointed, back in the direction we’d come from. “That’s the city. And those dark shapes over there? The mountains. On a clear night, it’s gorgeous out here. Like magical gorgeous.” He kissed my cheek, his lips lingering as his breath warmed me. “Jessa Mayes gorgeous.”
I grinned and gave him a lingering kiss for that.
“Might still clear up,” he whispered as he kissed his way along my jaw, and I sighed happily. “We can wait a while and see. The clouds seem to be moving.”
They were. As I watched, I could see them shifting around in front of the moon. “How do you know about this place?”
“Because I’ve seen it. With all the other girls I bring here, right before I kill them.”
“Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “Not funny when you say it.”
“It’s Piper’s,” he said, giving my butt a squeeze, then letting me go and heading back toward the truck. “He’s got a place, other end of this field. Moved out here about a year ago.”
“Oh. I didn’t know.” I looked out across the field but all I saw was blackness. The house must’ve been pretty far. “Must be nice. Quiet.” I watched him pull a backpack from the back of the truck. “Can I help?”
“Nope.” He hooked his arm through mine and we hopped over the barbed wire, which was about thigh-height, more to keep animals out than humans. Brody started pulling things from his bag. He laid out a big, thick blanket on the grass and ordered, “Sit.”
I sat. I watched him arrange a bunch of candles in jars all around the blanket and light them. Then he pulled out a big travel canteen and two mugs. He poured us each a drink and tossed in some mini marshmallows he’d brought in a bag.
“Marshmallows,” I mused as he handed me a mug, and his eyes caught mine.
“Yeah. You like them in your hot chocolate, right?”
“Sure.” I blew on my mug; it was steaming hot.
As the candlelight danced over Brody’s handsome face, he looked so young, and I was reminded of the many times he’d handed me a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows by a fire, when everyone else was drinking booze and I wasn’t allowed. At the time, I was annoyed. Now, I couldn’t stop grinning if I tried.
How sweet was he?
I could get used to sweet Brody. A lot less annoying than asshole Brody—though asshole Brody was also annoyingly hot.
“So, what happens on this date if the stars don’t come out?” I asked.
He settled back on the blanket facing me. “Then we find some other way to entertain ourselves,” he said, in a tone that went straight to my girl parts.
“Isn’t it a little cold for that?”
He sipped his drink, eying me over the rim of his mug. “The candles will keep us warm.”
“Right. They’re a regular blazing campfire.”
“We could pretend they’re a campfire. Know any ghost stories?”
“No scary stories.” I set my mug aside and settled back on my elbows. “You start telling me scary stories, the odds of you getting laid on this date get slim.”
“So the odds are looking good, otherwise?”
“I’d say they’re decent. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
The odds were looking better every minute.
We’d finished our hot chocolates and Brody was making me laugh, which was more of an aphrodisiac than I’d ever realized. Yeah; laughing with a guy was a definite turn-on. Maybe this was why I’d been so hot for him when we were young. Because back then, he’d made me laugh a lot.
Well… there was that, and there was his broad chest. His deep blue eyes. The way he’d looked at me… and how hot he’d looked in his leather jacket.
Still did.
This was the Brody I remembered from way back. The Brody I’d always wanted… the Brody I’d left behind.
The Brody I was so deathly afraid to disappoint.
And here he was, looking at me again just like he used to.
I smiled at him. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” He wasn’t smiling, exactly, but he was definitely undressing me with those blue eyes of his. They were aglow in the candlelight, and he’d laid a hand casually on my thigh. Except his touch wasn’t casual at all as his fingers traced a little pattern back and forth over my jeans, mere inches from my clit… sending signals right up through my core and short-circuiting my brain.
“Like I’m made of sugar,” I said.
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “What, like I want to lick you all over until you dissolve in a sweet puddle?”
“Exactly.”
“Why the hell not?” His voice got lower as his fingers migrated closer to my happy spot.
“Because. You still owe me stars. I demand stars before I melt.” Of course, I was all for Brody licking me all over, but I definitely didn’t mind the foreplay of flirting first. Not to mention making him work for it a little.
He glanced up at the sky, which wasn’t looking any clearer than when we’d arrived. “That may be a tall order.”
“And you still have to get me home at a decent hour, you know,” I reminded him.
His expression clouded over and I bit my lip. Oops.
Wrong thing to say.
Brody had only found out today about the photo shoot I was doing tomorrow, and he wasn’t happy about it. I also knew he wasn’t happy I’d done that shoot in L.A.; he’d told me in an intimate moment in his bed last night that he thought I wasn’t coming back afterward like I’d said I would. I’d told him, half-teasing, that if I didn’t come back it would’ve been his fault, since he told me he was done with me. But that didn’t go over so well. I’d also explained that this was only a one-day shoot, here in town. My agent had set it up when she found out I was coming back to Vancouver; it was kind of a last-minute thing because one of the models they’d booked had gotten sick, and I wasn’t even all that psyched to be doing it. But that didn’t go over so well, either.
And I knew why. I knew Brody felt threatened. That he thought it would take me away from him again; that as soon as I got back to modeling, I’d disappear from his life, stop taking his calls, and we’d be right back where we were. Which was nowhere.
I wanted to reassure him that wasn’t the case, but I was uncomfortably aware that we still needed to have a serious talk, about serious things—which might change his opinion on whether he wanted me to disappear from his life. And I’d done the math: I had to get up for the shoot in less than eight hours. I wanted to spend every one of those hours with Brody, and I didn’t want to waste them fighting. Granted, we’d need to sleep. I couldn’t show up at a shoot, even one I was less than excited to do, on no sleep. But other than sleep, we were flirting, having fun, and having sex tonight. I refused to do anything else.
After the shoot, when Brody saw that I was still here, we’d have time for the other talk.
“You know,” I said brightly, trying to keep the mood upbeat, “usually when we’re around a campfire, we sing.”
“No, you sing. I croak like a bull frog. We’re not doing that.”
“Okay… then how about a campfire game? Do you know any games?”
“I dunno. I Spy?”
I laughed. “In the dark?”
“Truth or Dare?”
“Right… I can only imagine what kind of dare you’d come up with. I’d be naked in seconds, no doubt.”
“Scared?”
I kind of was; it was cold. “No.”
He smiled a slow, wicked smile. “So you go first, then. You want truth or dare?”
“I thought you were kidding.”
“I was kidding. Now I’m not. Truth or dare?”
“Okay. Fine.” If h
e wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t backing down. And to prove it, I’d go all in. “I pick truth.”
“You sure about that, princess? You’ve gotta be one hundred percent honest here, or I’m pretty sure you’re in violation of the rules of the game. Bad things might happen.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want bad things to happen. Ask me. Whatever you want to know.” I said it, and I kind of meant it, but I was a little nervous about what he might ask.
How serious did he intend to turn this little game?
“Do you really like marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”
Okay. Not so serious, then.
“No.”
“I knew it. Why do you always put them in?”
“I don’t. You put them in, and I just never wanted to hurt your feelings.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “Who doesn’t like marshmallows in their hot chocolate?”
“I don’t. Too sugary.”
“Is that a modeling thing, or you really don’t like them?”
“Don’t like them. Never have. If you ask me, the only thing that belongs in hot chocolate, besides chocolate, is booze.”
“Well.” He lay back on the blanket, tucking an arm behind his head like a pillow. “Guess I just learned something new about you.”
“About time.” I grinned down at him, hugging my knees.
“You kidding? I learn something new about you all the time.”
“Really?”
“Sweetheart, it’d take centuries to unravel all the mysteries of Jessa Mayes.”
“Really,” I said, now doubting his sincerity. “Tell me something you’ve learned about me lately, Mr. Kiss-Ass.”
“How about the way you wiggle your feet around when you write.”
“What? I do not.”
“You rub your feet back and forth on the floor when you’re thinking.”
“I do?”
“Yup.”
“That’s weird.”
“When you read,” he went on, “like out of a magazine, your lips move and you repeat the words you like.”
“That’s not even true.”
“You repeat them three times,” he said. Then he mouthed, inevitability… inevitability… inevitability, in an imitation of me, apparently.
“So? Inevitability is a great word. Here, I’ll use it in a sentence. ‘Brody being a smart-ass is a definite inevitability.’”
He smirked.
“Seriously? I seriously do that?”
“Yup.”
“Jesus. What a dork.”
“It’s cute.”
“It’s lame. And stop trying to butt-kiss your way out of this. It’s your turn. Truth or dare.”
“Okay. Truth.”
“What does the tattoo on your forearm say?”
His smile faltered a little. “Abstinence,” he said.
Huh. Definitely never would’ve guessed. “Why do you have that tattooed on your arm?”
“Nope. You only get one question per turn.”
“That is one question. It’s a two-parter.”
“No two-parters. Your turn. Truth or dare.”
“You asked me like five questions in a row about stupid marshmallows!”
“Because you let me. I’m gonna go ahead and enforce the one-question rule, though.”
“That’s not fair.”
He just shrugged, all smug and sexy. “Never said I’d play fair, sweetheart.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I can be the bigger person here. Truth.”
He eyed me for a moment… like he was weighing whether or not I’d be honest on this one. “Who got all that birthday cake in my Donkey Kong arcade at Elle’s twenty-first? Was that really you?”
Oh. That.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Truth, princess.”
“It was Zane.”
“I fucking knew it. You know I’ve asked him like ten times over the years? He bought me a new one because it couldn’t be fixed and he still wouldn’t cop to it.”
“That was nice of him.”
“Right,” he muttered. “Because the price was worth having it over me, that I’d bought his lies.”
“He just wants you to love him.”
Brody scowled.
“You’d already threatened to ban him for lighting the dining room table on fire at Christmas, so I offered to take the fall. We both kind of knew you wouldn’t be mad if it was me.” I shrugged, because it was true. “Besides… you weren’t really talking to me at the time anyway.”
He stared at me a moment. Then he sat up and kissed me, gently.
“Your turn,” I whispered against his lips.
“We’re still playing?” He kissed me again, nudging my mouth open and lapping his tongue against mine in a slow, hot, totally X-rated move meant to distract the hell out of me. But I held him off, my hand on his hard chest.
“I did two truths. It’s your turn.”
“Fine.” He sat back. “Dare.”
“What! I want to know what that tattoo means. And I am not screwing you again until you tell me, Brody Mason.”
He just smiled, a slow, cocky smile, like he didn’t believe that for a second. “My pick. I pick dare.”
“Ugh. Fine. You’ll be sorry you picked dare, though.”
“Bring it on, babe.”
“Yeah? You’re not gonna wuss out when you hear what it is?”
“Nope.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because,” he said, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, sweetheart.” But he said it way too sweetly, which meant he was full of shit.
He was definitely scared of what I was going to make him do—me and my twisted mind.
“Okay, then. I dare you to sing me a song—of my choice.”
“No problem,” he said, like it was no big thing, when I knew it was. Brody hated singing. Mainly because he was no good at it. And the guys—Zane especially—never let him forget it.
It was kind of his Achilles’ heel.
“Oh, and before you do? You’re gonna strip down.” I smiled at him, nice and pretty.
In return he gave me a filthy, nasty look. “You want me to sing a song for you, naked, right here?”
“I do,” I said, cuddling cozily into my furry jacket. “Right now.”
That filthy glare stayed on me another minute, but I wasn’t backing down. Finally, he stood up and started taking off his clothes.
I lay back on the blanket and enjoyed the show.
Leather jacket… gone.
Scarf.
Sweater.
T-shirt.
Belt.
Boots.
Brody’s eyes stayed locked on my grinning face the entire time. I was pretty sure he was waiting for me to say, Just kidding! and let him off the hook.
I didn’t say that.
He had his jeans undone when he stopped and sighed. “You really gonna make me do this, princess?”
“Yup,” I said, distracted by the way his loosened jeans hung low on his hips.
He didn’t miss it. “How about instead I give you a peek, and then we go back to the truck and warm up?” He flashed me a charming smile that made my heart skitter, but I stuck to my guns.
“Nope. I want the full monty. Right now. It’s a dare. If you don’t do it, ‘bad things might happen.’”
The charm crumbled off as he threw me another dirty look. Then he shed his jeans and stopped again. “Come on, Jessa. This is a stupid dare. It’s fucking February.”
He stood there, shivering, in his skimpy blue briefs and striped socks and I just kept smiling. “Poor baby. Take it off.”
“Merciless,” he grumbled. Then he lost the undies, drop-kicking them off his foot.
I clapped and whistled for that maneuver, slick as it was, but he just glared at me, covering up the good stuff with his hands.
“It is pretty cold out,” I said, taking my time with a long, lingering perusal of his naked form, the candlelight dancing over the
curves of his lean, sculpted muscles. The light and dark patterns of his swirling tattoos. The sexy V of his torso, the slight rippling of his abs… that sexy-as-all-hell indent between his hipbone and his crotch. “So I’ll let you keep the socks on.”
“What’s the damn song?” he prompted, impatient, starting to bounce up and down to keep warm.
“Hmm.” I considered. “On second thought, put your boots back on.”
I watched as he pulled them on, grumbling all the way.
“Now back up so I can get a good look at you, and I’ll tell you the song.”
He turned and walked away a few paces, standing with his back to me. I didn’t mind, since it gave me a perfect view of his firm, muscular butt and his long, strong thighs. Geez. Brody Mason had the best butt, ever. He could’ve been a butt model, or a butt double for movie stars, or something. I’d told him that once, and I was dead serious.
He’d just laughed.
“You know what?” I mused, inspired by the view. “I’m feeling some Bad Company coming on…”
“Great.”
“Yeah. I definitely want to hear ‘Feel Like Makin’ Love,’ don’t you? Such a classic.”
“This is bullshit.”
“Come on. The vocal range in that song isn’t even difficult. Anyone can sing it.”
“Whatever.” Then, his back still to me, he started singing.
“Hey! Turn around!” His butt was sexy and all, but I wanted to see the rest of him.
“Fuck that.”
He kept singing. I laughed as he mumbled his way through the first few lines. I prompted him with a few lyrics when he didn’t know them.
Then he started flexing his butt cheeks to the rhythm of the song and I almost died laughing.
He stopped. “Come on, Jessa.”
“Turn around and I’ll think about letting you stop.”
“Don’t be a bitch. It’s cold. I’ve got shrinkage.”
“Tuuurn arou-ound,” I sang.
He turned, still cupping himself. His nipples could’ve cut glass, and his muscles were jittering under his skin.
From where I was sitting, though, it was plenty hot.
“You’re a terrible human being,” he said.
“Just get to the chorus. I want to hear the chorus.”
So he sung the chorus. By the end of it, he was getting into it, grudgingly. He even did a little dance. I was laughing so hard by now I was afraid I really might pee my pants.
Dirty Like Brody: A Dirty Rockstar Romance (Dirty, Book 2) Page 26