by Lex Martin
As though Brady senses my pensive attitude, he doesn’t say anything else for a while as I duck in and out of cabinets to inventory what we need.
Finally, as he’s getting up, he motions toward me. “You still owe me some hot chocolate, you know.”
“What?” I pause mid-stride.
“Hot chocolate. You fell asleep before we had a chance to drink it. And since I was about to watch a movie, you can join me. If you bring the hot chocolate, that is.”
He says this so casually. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning like a tontita. “You’re bargaining for hot chocolate?”
“Yours tastes different. Spicier or something.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I like it.”
“It’s the cinnamon.” My stupid little heart backflips. I stare up at him, hoping I don’t look like a lovesick fool. I mean, not that I love him. That would be ridiculous. But him wanting to spend time with me has to mean something, right?
“I guess I could make you some hot chocolate.” My voice sounds low and breathy. I try to swallow, but my mouth is dry.
“With those little marshmallows?”
I laugh. “Yes, Brady, with those little marshmallows.” I motion toward the back office. “Go queue up a movie. Your pick. But no Terminator or Die Hard.”
His face tightens with mock indignation. “You drive a hard bargain, Kit Kat.”
Yes, I’ll happily be his Kit Kat. Especially if that means you’d bite me tonight.
He points behind him. “Let me grab a quick shower, and I’ll meet you back there in ten.”
“Sounds good.”
Brady in the shower. Everything in me tingles. No, that sounds amazing.
26
Brady
The bluish light of the flat screen glows in the dark room. We’re sitting a respectable distance apart on the couch, watching Comedy Central, when the baby stirs. Kat leaps off the couch before I can stop her, and when she returns ten minutes later, I motion toward the hall. “I’ll get her the next time she wakes.”
She gives me a big smile and agrees.
It’s nice sitting with her like this. If I’m being honest, I think I like not being alone the most. The fact that it’s Kat next to me is just a bonus.
That’s probably a shitty reason to enjoy someone’s company, but everywhere I look, I see my brother and how I failed him.
Were my parents really that much worse off when Cal didn’t return home? I was so pissed to be inconvenienced that I never stopped to wonder if maybe things would’ve been the same if he had returned to Boston. Maybe I still would’ve needed to quit my job at the tattoo parlor to help Mom and Dad.
The bottle of tequila tempts me from the coffee table, but I know I can’t take that route again. It would be too easy to keep reaching for it. But as I sit here in the dark watching TV, I can’t quell the despair that settles in my bones. Because the thought of spending the next several weeks here dismantling everything my brother loved ravages my conscience.
Absentmindedly, I stretch my arms, and everything tightens and pulls. Holy shit. I let out a groan.
“Are you okay?” Kat asks as she curls up on the couch.
“Yeah, just a little sore from chopping up that tree.” I had hoped that hot shower I took when I got home would help, but I’m still sore as fuck.
“Aww.” She motions in front of her. “Come here, Paul Bunyan. I’ll give you a massage.”
I look at her warily. She’s changed out of her jeans and t-shirt into a pair of dark pajama bottoms and a cranberry-colored Henley that buttons up the front and swells around her full breasts. Her black-framed glasses sit perched on that cute little nose.
Katherine. Sweet, sexy Katherine.
Don’t do this.
Internally, I war with myself. Because when I look at her, all of the darkness from the last week seems to ebb away.
She pats the couch in front of her and gives me a look, questioning whether I’m really going to turn down a massage.
Ignoring the voice in my head that’s calling me a dumbass, I get up and sit in front of her. She spreads her legs, and I lean back between them until I’m resting up against the couch. “Be gentle.”
She snickers and starts kneading my shoulders.
“Damn, that feels good.” I let my head hang down as her grip tightens. She’s a strong little thing.
Up and down my neck and across my shoulders she goes in a rhythmic motion that would put me to sleep if I weren’t so fucking aware of how close she is right now. The insides of her warm thighs press against my arms, and all I can think about is how much I’d rather be facing the other way.
Every once in a while, her breath fans my neck, making all the nerve endings in my body stand at attention, especially when her fingers dip beneath the thin fabric of my t-shirt.
After about ten minutes, she stops, and my eyes crack open. “That was awesome.” I haul my ass up onto the couch and spread my legs. “Your turn.” Because, hell yes, I want to touch her.
She bites her lower lip, and I pat the couch in front of me. I can see the wheels turning in her head, and internally, I’m agreeing with her. Yes, this is a terrible idea. No, I can’t help it either.
After a moment, she takes off her glasses and lowers herself to the floor. Scooting back, she nestles between my legs.
I can do this without getting turned on. I can.
I’m ready to be an upstanding guy when she whips her hair up into one of her crazy buns and I stare down at her bare neck. It’s sexy the way her shirt drifts off her shoulder, giving me a hint of her black bra.
Yeah, I’m officially a dumbass. She’s this tempting dessert I’m not supposed to eat, but I really fucking want to. You know, maybe lick the frosting off the top.
The moment my hands touch her small shoulders, goose bumps break out on her skin.
“Are you cold?” My voice comes out rougher than I expect.
She shakes her head as I smooth my hands over her back. I wish I could whip off her shirt and do this properly. A back massage with clothes is a waste of friction.
She’s tight, and I actually have to dig into her shoulders for a while until the tension starts to dissipate.
See, I can do this.
But then she lets out a breathy moan. “God, so good.”
My mind instantly pictures her moaning these words as I pound into her, which puts my cock on full alert.
I pause, like I’ve stepped on some kind of landmine, not sure which motion will set off the bomb.
I’m already in trouble because her head dips back into my lap. Her eyes are closed, and I’m altogether enchanted by her slender neck and shoulders. By her thick hair that smells so good, I can’t think straight. By her mouth that screams to be kissed. And by the neckline in her t-shirt that pulls low, displaying the crests of her breasts.
Without thinking, I tangle my fingers in her hair and massage her scalp.
“Holy crap,” she whispers. “That’s amazing.”
Slowly, I loosen her hair and let my fingers drift in and out of the silky soft tendrils. She looks like a dreamy mirage, and I half wonder if I’m asleep and I’m going to wake up and find myself alone in Boston.
Her eyes flutter open, and she stares up at me. My hand cradles her cheek. I don’t remember moving my hand to her face, but there it is. Her mouth parts on a sigh, and then she leans, just the slightest bit, into my hand.
“You’re beautiful, Kat,” I rasp.
She blinks back at me, sweet and so fucking sexy, everything in me aches.
Those big amber eyes are dilated and dark, and her chest rises and falls with quick breaths.
My hand drifts down her neck where her skin is soft, so soft and smooth and pale. Like a canvas.
For the first time in I don’t know how long, I long to draw something, anything. And I really want to draw it on her.
I drag one finger slowly back and forth along the slope of her neck and shoulder, envisioning the lines I�
��d paint on her skin. The rich colors I’d blend. The gentle touch I’d use.
She shivers, and with her back arched this way, I can see her nipples poking through her top. On a sigh, her eyes close, but her tongue darts out to lick those full lips. Everything in me tightens as I resist the urge to drag her whole body on to my lap.
Those lips glisten in the low light, and when my fingers drag along her cheek, they part more. My heart is pounding in my chest. Fuck, I want this girl.
When she opens her eyes again, I slide my thumb against her bottom lip. It’s slick and pouty, and I’m dying for a taste. She’s watching me, her expression intense. Is it my imagination or did she just arch her back more?
Suddenly, her mouth opens, and she sucks my thumb before biting the pad gently.
I stare, a little dumbstruck by my finger that’s caught between her teeth. But it’s the wet slide of her tongue across my skin that sets me in motion.
“Get up here.”
I’m not sure if I yank her up or if she moves on her own accord because my hands are on her and she’s crawling into my lap.
The moment our mouths crash into each other, the only thing I can think is, Thank fucking God.
27
Katherine
He tastes like hot chocolate. Sweet. Rich. Addicting.
My hands are on his muscular shoulders. I’m straddling his thighs, and he has one big hand on my hip and one in my hair as he covers my mouth with his. He’s so dang hot, I might combust.
But when that hand on my hip tightens and scoots me closer until our hips align, I’m sure I’m about to die because he feels so good. And heaven help me, he’s huge.
Brady pauses to look up at me. My hair cascades around us, casting a shadow over him. I want to freeze-frame this moment. Softly, he licks my bottom lip like he’s tasting me, and I groan and grind down on him.
That gets me a low grunt, which makes me smile and do it again. When I angle my mouth over his, that hand grips my hair to hold me still, making my heart beat faster.
I pant against his lips, frozen. Touch me. God, touch me.
As though he can hear my pleas, his hand slides up my side as he leans in to nip my neck.
“Is this okay?” he asks, his voice low and gruff.
I almost want to laugh. Hell yes, this is okay. But I don’t say anything. I just strip off my shirt, which leaves me in a sheer, black lacy bra.
Yes, I wore it for him. When he invited me to watch a movie, I couldn’t help but hope something would happen. I would’ve been mortified if we had gotten horizontal and I was wearing plain old cotton. Hello, not sexy. Comfortable, yes. Seductive, no.
The black lace was a good choice because he’s riveted to my breasts, so I know he can see how hard my nipples are through the thin lace. In an instant, his mouth descends on one, and the second his tongue lashes out through the fabric, my hands tangle in his hair to hold him to me.
More. I want more.
I want him hard and thick and pulsing between my thighs. I want to ride him until he shouts my name. I want him to remember this, me, when he’s back in Boston.
The fact that he’s leaving doesn’t even give me pause. Yes, it’ll hurt like hell when he’s gone. In fact, I have a sinking suspicion it’ll break my heart because I can’t dance this close to the fire and not get burned. And he’s all flame, a raging inferno that makes my skin heat and heart race.
But I can’t walk away. Even though I probably should.
That sinful mouth reaches my other aching nipple, but this time, he bites gently, just a little, sending a zap straight to my core.
“Brady.” A breathy sigh leaves me, and I can feel him smile against me.
But when I reach back and undo my bra, he stills.
I lower it slowly, so just the peaks of my breasts show over the fabric. He looks up, his eyes burning into me as he swipes his tongue under the material. My head falls back as he plumps my breast with one hand and sucks me into his mouth.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs against my skin.
My heart skitters, euphoria rushing through me at the realization that this is really happening with Brady.
That he’s here. Under me. Touching me. Wanting me.
It’s almost too much to bear.
I grind on him, my hips moving on their own, and I’m so wet I’m sure he can feel me through my thin pajama bottoms. I want him so badly my entire body pulses.
In one swift motion, I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me. He pauses, just a second, just enough for me to reach out and yank him closer. Because I’m desperate to have him, and tonight, I don’t want to let anything get in the way of what I want.
Sinvergüenza. Yes. That’s me. Shameless.
His muscular thighs nestle between mine. I have to spread my legs wide to make room for his large frame. I thread my fingers through his thick, black hair, still damp from his shower, as his whole body aligns with mine.
Moaning into his mouth, I revel in how good he feels. All muscle, thick and hard against my sensitive skin.
But I realize what would feel even better.
I tug his shirt. “Off.”
He doesn’t hesitate. Just leans back and reaches behind his head with one hand to pull it off.
My hands find his hard pecs, and his eyes hood as I slide back and forth over his smooth skin. He has a smattering of dark hair on his chest but is otherwise pretty bare. And then there’s that treasure trail that promises pleasures yet to come.
Leaning up, I press a kiss to his shoulder. It’s my turn to taste. Then I bite him and revel in the hiss that escapes his lips before I lick the offended skin and do it again.
He must like this because he groans and thrusts harder against me, his hands tightening on my breasts in a way that makes me breathless. But the next time I nip him, he grabs my wrists and pins them with one big hand above my head before he dips down for a kiss.
Our tongues tangle as I struggle against him so I can get closer. So I can grab and touch and soothe and feel.
Being held down by his muscular body heats me in a way I’ve never experienced before. Because I’m at his mercy. And I like it.
His hold on my wrists is tight, like I’m his little plaything. His possession. All I can do is moan against his mouth and hope he doesn’t stop.
Then he angles his mouth over mine to kiss me more deeply while his erection grinds against me. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. I can almost hear our rhythm as we move to the steady beat of my heart.
And when I think it can’t get better, when I can’t get any more turned on, he releases my wrists and slides down my body.
Down my neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses. Over my breasts with sucks and licks and bites. Over my stomach, rasping against my sensitive skin with his five o’clock shadow. All the while playing to that steady beat between my legs.
His fingers hook into my pajama bottoms, and then they’re off, leaving me in my black lace underwear. Slowly, he pulls down the fabric until nothing stands in his way.
He stares, his eyes molten. I let him stare and see how wet I am for him. I watch how his green eyes darken until all I’m left with is his black hunger that threatens to drown me.
Everything in me trembles as I spread my legs a little more.
An invitation.
He sucks in a breath, but rather than go to the source of my ache, he drags a calloused finger between my thighs and rubs in the crease of my leg. First one side, then the other.
I arch my back, needing him to touch me there. He’s close, so close, but I know he’s toying with me.
He settles between my legs, his hands spreading my thighs wide.
But again, he teases and rubs along the crease of my legs, pushing my swollen lips together.
“Brady,” I gasp. “Please.”
“Please, what, Katherine?”
Oh, Jesus. Now he chooses to use my full name. Why that’s so hot right now, I have no clue. But his voice, thick and raspy, sends chills dow
n my back. And the way he says it. Like I'm sexy and seductive.
“Touch me,” I beg.
“I am.”
Then he does it again, pushes my lips together, sliding me against myself, making the ache worse, not better.
His hot breath on my tender skin sends another shiver through me, but when his lips whisper over my clit, just barely grazing me, a whimper escapes me.
I’m writhing, gasping, and just when I think I might die, his thumbs spread me apart—wide—and he slowly swipes his hot tongue against me.
“Holy shit.” Wow. Something else unintelligible falls from my lips.
I’m panting and writhing when he does it again. And again. Soft, so soft, I have half a mind to yank his hair and make him do it harder. But then he flattens his tongue for a long, steady lick, and I arch off the couch.
“God, yes. More.”
My eyes are rolling back in my head, my hands grasping at the fabric of the couch as Brady pins me down and works me over.
He groans against me. “You taste so fucking good.”
Then he delves again, this time pushing one rough finger into me. Licking and sucking and pressing into me, over and over. Deep, so deep, it has me thinking about what he’ll feel like when he sinks into me for real.
“Oh, God. I’m gonna come,” I pant.
Everything hurts and feels so good at the same time. But when he pushes a second finger into me, we both groan.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he whispers against my wet skin.
My whole body throbs and constricts, like strings pulled taut on an instrument.
And then I’m falling… falling… falling. Coming apart and somehow being pulled back together.
I quake and shiver, my legs slamming against his body as I writhe with my release. I’ve never felt this good, and I never want it to stop.
It goes on and on as he softens his touch until I can’t take it any longer.