It makes me realize that I was quick to judge him on outward appearances. My impression of him was that he was an arrogant jock coasting through college, so I placed him neatly into that category without examining it any closer.
With our fingers locked together, he reaches over with his other hand and slips it under my chin. “I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me.” He shakes his head. “Your pity is the last thing I want.”
I lower my eyes. “It’s not that.” After Friday night, this glimpse into who Brody is only makes me feel more confused.
“Then what is it?”
I shrug, still feeling like an asshole. “I’ve always thought you were just here biding your time before going to the NHL. But that’s not the case at all.”
“Don’t feel bad about it. I’d much rather have people think that than find out I’m dyslexic.”
My brows draw together. What he’s saying doesn’t make sense. “But no one would judge you for it.”
“They already have.” His voice takes on a sharp edge. “When people find out you have a learning disability, they treat you differently. They don’t expect as much from you. They assume you’re not as smart because your brain works differently. Or that you’re somehow damaged. I don’t need that.”
“But you just told me,” I whisper.
His eyes singe mine. “Maybe I wanted you to know the real me.”
Those words bring a thick lump to my throat. “Thank you. And I’m sorry for misjudging you.”
Surprising me, he gets to his feet and pulls me up with him. “Come on.”
It takes a moment for me to mentally switch gears. “What are we doing?”
“Taking a much-needed study break.” He doesn’t let go of my fingers as he snakes his way around the stacks.
I glance at our table. Everything is still strewn across the top of it. “We’re just going to leave our stuff there?”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”
The third floor of the library is always quiet since most students prefer to study on the first two floors. I’ve only seen a few other people in the two hours we’ve been here tonight.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“You’ll see,” he says, tugging me behind him.
We walk around a few more corners before Brody grinds to a halt. My breath catches as he pins me against a tall bookcase filled with doctoral theses.
“What are you doing?” I squeak in surprise.
He smirks. Both of his dimples pop. “I think it’s time for another lesson.”
“Another lesson,” I repeat stupidly. What is he—
Oh.
A lesson.
My eyes widen, and he chuckles. The sound is low and rough. It scrapes against something buried deep inside me. His mouth hovers dangerously over mine. My heart pounds with anticipation. I want him. My lips part of their own accord. I’m hungry to feel his mouth crushing down on mine. Instead of doing what I expect, he runs the tip of his nose across my cheek. The touch is subtle.
I release a shaky, pent-up breath.
He nips at my chin with his teeth, and I melt against the shelving unit I’m pressed against. His mouth trails across my jawline, teasing my flesh until I groan with need.
“Are you ready for your second lesson?”
God, yes…I’m desperate for whatever he wants to show me. Whatever he wants to do. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve always been contained, removed. No one has ever made me lose my mind or forget myself.
Brody does that to me. All I’m aware of, conscious of, is him. His hands. His mouth. The position of his body as it aligns with mine.
“Yes,” I moan.
Not once does it occur to me to put a stop to what we’re doing. We’re making out in a public place. Anyone could stumble across us. But that’s not even a thought in my head. The only thing that matters in this moment is the feel of his hands branding my body. His lips coasting over me. The pleasure blooming in the pit of my belly. And lower.
So much lower.
“Good, because after Friday, all I’ve thought about is touching you again.”
With that, he flips me around so that my front is pressed against the stacks.
“What—” I gasp.
“Shhhh.”
Any protest bubbling up in me dissolves when he presses his hard body against my backside. He grabs my hands and stretches them high above my head.
“Leave them there,” he whispers in my ear.
“You’ve got a real thing for that, don’t you?” I breathe out in a shaky voice.
He chuckles. “I like the idea of having you at my mercy. All these years, you’ve been sharpening your claws on me. I hate to admit it, but all it’s done is turn me on. Now you’re going to do what I tell you to. Understand?”
“Yes.”
His fingers trail along my arms and down my sides. Shivers scamper across my spine as he grips my hips and pulls me flush against the lower half of his body. The feel of his erection pressing into me nearly makes my knees buckle. His hands slide around to the button of my jeans and flick the metal disk from its hole.
“Brody…” My teeth sink into my lower lip. As much as I want him to touch me, we can’t do this. Not here.
“No talking,” he whispers harshly. “Only feeling.”
“But—” my voice rises in panic.
“I said no talking, Davies.”
My heart thunders as his fingers draw the zipper down. Parting the material, he traces lazy circles across my lower abdomen. I turn my cheek so that it rests against the spines of the books. My eyelids feather closed as he dips his fingers into my jeans, grazing the edge of my panties.
As wrong as I know this is, there’s a growing part within that doesn’t give a damn. When Brody lays his hands on me like this, all rational thought disappears.
“What do you want me to do?” His fingers dip inside the band but don’t descend any further.
Even though I shouldn’t, I groan out the words. “Touch me.”
“I am touching you.” His voice is silky soft. Almost playful.
“You know what I mean.” I wiggle against him, trying to get his fingers to slide inside my panties.
“You’re right, I do,” he whispers against my ear. “I know exactly what you want.”
With that, his fingers slip under the band and stroke over my naked flesh. My knees quiver as he glides over me, caressing the seam of my lower lips. I widen my stance wanting him to sink deep inside me, but he doesn’t. He toys with me instead. When I can’t stand another moment, when I feel like I’m going to scream with the need building inside, his fingers slide through my folds and zero in on my clit, rubbing slow circles as if we have all the time in the world. It’s nothing short of exquisite torture.
I bite my tongue to keep quiet when he sinks a thick finger inside me.
“Mmmm, you’re so fucking tight,” he murmurs.
A second digit joins the first. He pumps them a few times before dragging his fingers from my body. Just when I think he’ll pull all the way out, he drives them back inside. I moan as he buries his fingers to the hilt. His other hand snakes up my body until he’s able to cup my breast. He squeezes the softness and plays with the pebbled tip.
More nerve endings spark to life. An orgasm brews as he finds a rhythm, stroking in and out of my body. I arch my pelvis, wanting to pull him in deeper. Wanting these intense feelings of pleasure to go on forever.
The hand that had been touching my breast trails down my rib cage and delves into my panties, zeroing in on my clit again.
The low murmur of voices cuts through the thick haze of pleasure cocooning me. My eyes fly open in alarm. We can’t be discovered in such a compromising position.
“Relax,” he breathes against my ear. “They have no idea we’re here.” Instead of releasing me, his grip tightens. His fingers thrust in tandem, never ceasing their assault on my flesh.
“We have to stop,�
� I whimper as pleasure crashes through me.
Even though I said the words, I think I would die if Brody stopped what he was doing. Any moment now, the orgasm that has been building is going to streak through my body.
Instead of answering, the intensity of his touch becomes more focused until it’s almost unbearable. I bite my lip to stifle the scream rising within.
The voices grow louder.
Closer.
They must be on the other side of the bookshelf. If I weren’t so out of my head, I would push him away and straighten my clothing, but I can’t bring myself to do that. I’m so close to coming. It’s all I’m able to focus on. Everything in me tightens.
“Come for me, baby.” He nips my neck and growls, “Right now.”
That’s all it takes to push me over the edge. His lips capture mine, swallowing the moans that fall from them as he thrusts his fingers inside me while the other hand plays with my clit.
It takes a moment for me to come back to my senses. For me to realize that I’m still pinned against the stacks with Brody’s big body pressed against my back, his hands continuing to strum my body.
“Fuck, that was amazing,” he mutters.
His breath is just as labored as mine. I strain to hear the voices that had been just on the other side of the shelf, but there’s nothing. They’ve obviously moved on, away from us.
I can’t believe we just did that. That I allowed Brody to finger me in the library.
“Stop thinking.” His teeth bite down on my ear, pulling gently on the lobe. “Just enjoy how I made you feel.”
He’s right. I don’t want to ruin this moment with regret. I need to enjoy whatever this is between us for what it is.
Instead of separating myself and feeling awkward about what just happened, I say, “I think I’m going to enjoy your lessons.”
He relaxes against me and chuckles. “Damn right you are.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Natalie
“Got anything special planned for the big twenty-two?” Zara asks, fingering the fabric of a shirt she’s thinking about purchasing at Olive + Ashley, one of our favorite stores.
I shrug. Birthdays have always been special occasions in my family. Since I was an only child, my parents would go all out. For the first time in my life, I’m not looking forward to it.
Normally, the night of my birthday, my parents and I go out for dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, La Fuente. It’s been a tradition for as long as I can remember. For obvious reasons, that won’t be happening this year. Dad texted a couple of days ago asking if he could take me out for lunch so we could talk, but I politely declined the offer.
I’m still pissed about what happened a few weeks ago. I have no desire to see him or his fiancée. They can both go to hell as far as I’m concerned.
“I’m not sure yet,” I admit reluctantly. “I thought my mom and I would hit the restaurant alone, but she texted yesterday and said a showing came up that she can’t get out of.”
Zara’s brows shoot up, and a look of sympathy settles across her elfin features. “Oh, that sucks.” She picks up a long, flowing bohemian-style shirt and looks it over with a critical eye. “What about your dad? Have you spoken with him since the incident?”
That’s what we’re now referring to it as…the incident.
More like the incident where I lost my shit.
I shake my head. “Nope, and I don’t intend to.”
When your parents go through a breakup, you realize how meaningful all those little traditions you didn’t appreciate during your childhood become. It makes you want to hang onto them tightly with both hands and never let go. Somehow, having a little bit of normalcy makes life feel as if it hasn’t been completely yanked out from under your feet.
So, my mom cancelling at the last minute stings. In her defense, she did ask a bazillion times if I’d be okay and offered to rearrange her schedule. I, of course, said no. I’ll be twenty-two years old on Saturday and didn’t want to act like a big baby. Even though I kind of feel like a big baby at the moment.
Now that she’s a single parent and reliant on her own income, if a showing comes up, she has to jump on it. She’s just starting out in this business and can’t do anything to jeopardize her budding career.
But it sucks.
Big time.
“What about Brody?”
I give her a blank stare. “What about him?”
Zara rolls her eyes. “Did you mention that it’s your birthday on Saturday?”
Why the heck would I do that?
I shake my head and focus on the rack of tops I’m perusing. Unlike Zara, I’m not in the market for something new. “Of course not. It’s not like we’re actually going out.”
“You two have been spending an awful lot of time together lately,” she says nonchalantly.
My eyes narrow and she suppresses the smile hovering around the edges of her lips.
“Please. We’ve been studying at the library.” Heat fills my cheeks as I think about all the times we’ve snuck around the corner of the stacks and made out. I can’t think of another guy I’ve enjoyed kissing more than Brody. He has the best lips. And his hands…
I really need to stop thinking along these lines. It’s dangerous.
“Sure,” Zara snickers. “Brody’s well known around campus for his academic prowess.”
I open my mouth, ready to blast her, but catch myself at the last minute. I promised Brody I wouldn’t tell anyone about his struggles with dyslexia. And that includes Zara. I’m almost taken aback by how quickly the need to defend him rises up within me.
The relationship we’ve become embroiled in is messing with my head. I should do myself a favor and end it. It’s been a few weeks. We could quietly part ways without too much commotion. No one would even notice.
The idea of doing that leaves a sick knot in the pit of my belly.
When did I start to develop feelings for him? It’s a shocking revelation.
Almost offhandedly, I say, “Brody cares about his grades. He’s getting a business degree. After the NHL, he’s going to join his father’s management company.” How many people my age have a ten-year plan in the works? I certainly don’t. I don’t think Zara does either.
Her eyes cut to mine in surprise. I bite my tongue, wishing I’d kept my big mouth shut. What do I care what Zara thinks about Brody?
Only recently have I come to realize that Brody isn’t the guy I always thought he was. And he isn’t the guy Zara thinks he is either. It bothers me that she can’t see him for who he really is. Which is ridiculous. It took me long enough to scratch beneath the surface.
“Huh.” A slow smile spreads across her face. “Is that so?”
I shrug and turn my attention to a shirt I have zero interest in purchasing because it’s easier to focus on that than acknowledge the growing curiosity in Zara’s eyes.
If I were smart, I’d change the subject before she figures out what’s really going on. That I’m actually falling for this guy.
Unfortunately, my lips start moving before my brain has time to pull the plug. “Brody could have gone straight to the NHL after juniors, and he chose to come here and work on his degree first. It’s important to him.”
Even though I’m tempted to tell her about the promise Brody made to his mother before she died, I don’t. For all Brody’s party-boy, manwhore ways, he’s turned out to be infinitely deeper than I gave him credit for. I wish other people could see that side of him.
But that’s not my decision to make.
It’s his.
And I would never break the promise I made to him.
Zara’s eyes narrow as she considers me. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you. For three years all you’ve done is hate on that guy.”
Her words make me wince. She’s right. “Hate is an awfully strong word,” I murmur. “I don’t think I ever hated him.”
She gives me an are-you-crazy look. I can’t blame her
for being confused at my sudden about-face. “Yes, you did. In fact, I specifically remember you saying that you hated him and wished Brody’s penis would shrivel up and fall off. That was like a month and a half ago.”
All right. Fine. I said it. I wanted his penis to shrivel up and fall off.
But clearly, that’s no longer the case. I’m not sure what to do about these strange feelings growing inside me. I have to remind myself more and more often that we’re acting out a charade. That’s all.
No longer wanting to dwell on the Brody situation, I change the subject. “How about we grab dinner Saturday night? Maybe see a movie? We can keep it low-key.”
A look of guilt flashes across her face. “Oh. I can’t.” She bites her lip. “I’m sorry, Nat. I just assumed you’d be with your mom on your birthday. I’ve already made plans with Luke. His parents are coming into town for a visit. We’re going out to dinner.”
“That’s fine,” I say hastily, trying to backtrack. “It was just an idea. No big deal.”
After a moment she says, “I’ll cancel if you want and we can go to dinner and a movie. Now I feel terrible. I don’t want you to spend your birthday alone.”
I shake my head. “No way are you cancelling on Luke. I’m happy things are going so well for you guys.” I was nervous when she first told me about getting together with him. Most of the hockey players are douchebags. But not all. Luke is definitely one of the good guys.
Zara smiles and her entire face lights up as she confides, “I told him that I loved him.”
“Wow.” Setting aside my own disappointment, I say, “You two are amazing together. And for the record, I was wrong about him. Luke is a great guy. Nothing like Reed.”
What I’m starting to realize is that Luke isn’t the only hockey player I was wrong about.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Natalie
Hate to Love You Page 17