Protective Instinct

by Tricia Lynne

  Hayes started scooping up dirty dishes to whisk to the sink. “Yep. Sorry, Lil. Not our place to tell you how to do your job.”

  Brody’s brown eyes were trained on mine but had a softness around the edges. “Yeah, sorry. I just thought about if he’d gotten something besides your forearm. I didn’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t or shouldn’t do your job.”

  “Accepted,” I said, adding a wink so he knew there were no hard feelings. “Why don’t I feed you two cheesecake and we can talk this plan through.” After pushing back, I went to the cabinet to pull out dessert plates. Bumping Hayes with my hip, I thanked him for clearing.

  “You cook, I clean.” His smile was the stuff of Hollywood legends.

  While I served cake, I heard the back door open and close. Shortly after, dogs began dancing around my legs as Brody topped off their water bowl. When I set a piece in front of Hayes, I noticed the ass bent over in my utility room getting the dogs water. Damn, those jeans hugged him entirely too well. I wanted to know how he’d react if I walked over and cupped it. Maybe slid my hands into the back pockets.

  “Mmmm. Brody, man, why’d you buy this?” Hayes’s voice brought me out of my dirty daydream and I set the other two pieces on the table before I got caught ogling again. But Hayes hadn’t missed it. His grin was all kinds of lascivious. “Now we’re gonna have to run tomorrow. A minute on the lips, a lifetime on the hips.”

  “Okay, Karen.” Brody sat back down, slid cheesecake in his mouth. “Mmm. Damn, that’s good.”

  I couldn’t help the chuckle. These two were obviously pretty close and entertaining as hell.

  “Y’all. Game plan.”

  “Mmmhmm?” Brody rolled his fork in the air.

  Setting my own fork down, I grabbed the list of shops out of my office and we went over them one by one. I pointed out a few places I knew sold lots of bully breeds and owners I knew owned more than one of the shops on the list, so they didn’t go to another shop that person owned. I answered questions about mills for Hayes and reminded both men to turn on the charm if need be. We even strategized when to go.

  “Just remember, if they have a lot of bully breeds in the store, be thorough.” I licked cheesecake off my knuckle and didn’t miss the way Brody tracked the movement. At least I wasn’t the only one being tortured. “I think it’s best if you guys go in giving as little info as possible. Make sure you ask for a manager or owner.”

  Hayes interjected. “A salesclerk isn’t going to know who the suppliers are.”

  “Exactly.” I poked my fork in the air. “Tell them you’re interested in breeding stock if you have to, but be vague.”

  Brody scratched his scruff. “They’re going to want to know why we want that info. Especially if mill circles are as tight-lipped as you said. What are we supposed to tell them?”

  I nibbled the inside of my lip. I felt like I was taking a huge leap of faith letting these guys improvise, but it was the only way I could see the plan working. “You be tight-lipped, too. Say as little as you can get away with. You’re going to have to play it by ear and find a reason why one of their pups won’t do, or why you want to know about their suppliers. Maybe tell them you’d like to breed CC. If they’ve got a Cane in the shop, tell them you want a Neapolitan Mastiff, et cetera. You’re going to have to be as cagey as they are. Hopefully, they’ll get starstruck and spill.”

  Hayes pushed his plate away. “We should throw swag in the truck, too. Talk with some of the other customers. Autographs and stuff. That kind of stuff might go a long way.”

  Brody nodded. “You can’t go ten feet in DFW without hitting a Bulldogs fan.”

  “Plus, you two have this natural friendship thing going. Play up the banter. I would suggest you decide who’s going to do the talking beforehand.”

  Brody nodded. “We need a couple of different cover stories. Breeding stock. Breeding CC, maybe another to have on hand when they push.”

  “The more swag we can throw around, the less questions they’re likely to ask, too,” Hayes added.

  “Last, but not least,” I interjected. “Don’t buy a puppy.”

  Both men nodded. “We got this, Lil.”

  “I mean it. It’s harder than you think.”

  Hayes stroked his beard. “We can be some charming sonsabitches when we need to be.”

  I snorted, but I believed it. There wasn’t much Texans loved more than their football.

  “I’m gonna take off.” Hayes put his napkin on the table and pushed back to stand. “I’m beat, but Lily, thank you for dinner.”

  I walked him to the door. “Thanks for helping with this, Walker. You’re a good guy.”

  He kissed my forehead. “Shh. Don’t tell.”

  After he was gone, I went back into the kitchen where Brody sat stroking Mack’s head. “I’m sorry. I know y’all wanted more guidance from me on how to play this inside the shops, but you’re going to have to think on your feet to make it feel organic.” Plopping down in my chair again, I wished I could go with them, or better yet, take care of it myself. “I hate having to sit this out while you two do all the work.”

  Brody put his hand on top of mine. “It’s why we’re here, Lil. I want this as much as you do.”

  That little touch—heat licked up my spine and bled into my cheeks, but he pulled away too quickly. Did he? Want this like I did? Yes, we flirted, but did Brody want me as much as I wanted him? Because with the wine pumping through my system, and after the lunch with my mom, there was nothing I wanted more than to get lost in Brody. To feel all his hard against my soft and trace the lines of shoulders and pecs. To dip my tongue into the suprasternal notch at the base of his throat that had played peekaboo through the plackets of his Henley all night.

  But Brody seemed to have other ideas. “So, the rumors about your dad...”

  That banked the fire a little. “Yeah?”

  “Doesn’t sound like an easy guy to live with.” Brody ran a hand over his scruff, seemed to choose his next words carefully. “It’s not always pretty, being on this side of the curtain. I’m sorry you had to deal with any of that as a kid. It’s hard enough to manage as an adult.”

  I shrugged. “My dad was a complicated guy. Sometimes he was an amazing husband and father, other times, not so much. But I still loved him.”

  Brody nodded, and as I watched him, I didn’t want to know what he was thinking. The conversation was killing my ladywood and my buzz in one fail swoop. But Brody told me anyway. “You know, we’re not all like your dad, Lil.”

  I nodded, but the truth was I didn’t know that at all, and where Brody was concerned with women, all evidence was to the contrary. “What about your dad? You only ever talk about your mom in interviews.”

  Stretching his neck, he leaned his chair back on two legs. “Never knew him, never cared to. My mom is a badass, though. She worked two jobs all through high school to put food on the table. And a guy my size? I eat a lot.”

  “I realize. Between you and Hayes, I have no leftover lasagna.”

  He patted his little food baby with a satisfied smile. “Truthfully, I was so thankful when I got the full ride to UNT. Mom was bound and determined I’d get a degree come hell or high water.” He grinned. “I bought her a house with my first signing bonus. Free and clear.”

  That was in line with the guy I knew. Generous, thoughtful. But I also knew there was a player in there who went through women like toilet paper. I shoved the thought out of my brain. “You know, I was at UNT while you were. I was an undergrad in pre-law at the time, but I had a little secret crush. I remember when you got benched before the conference championship.”

  Brody laughed. “Really? I bet you were a cute little thing in college. I wish I would have known you then. I would have definitely asked you out.”

  “Uh-huh. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

 
Something crossed his face I couldn’t identify. “You never told me you were pre-law before. Why didn’t you go to law school?”

  I shifted, trying to hide my discomfort. Did I tell him who Trey was to the team? Surely Brody had had plenty of contact with him. “I left pre-law because I was seeing someone who was on a medical track. It got serious, and he convinced me if I went to law school while he was in medical school, we’d never see each other, so I took the GRE instead of the LSAT and went into Kines. Less demanding. He ended up cheating and we broke up. What about you, what are your plans after you retire?”

  Rolling his bottom lip in his mouth, he nibbled on the edge. “I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I’ve taken care of my money. I have time to decide.”

  “What, not going to become an analyst? Isn’t that every former player’s dream?” I teased.

  Throwing his head back, he let out a throaty laugh and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Hell, no. I want as far away from the cameras and spotlight as I can get.”

  Damn, I wanted my mouth there. What would his skin taste like? I knew his breath was sweet mint and his lips were soft, but I’d never gotten the chance to taste his skin at the Unruly Dog.

  Just this once, Lily. Maybe I’d regret it in the morning, maybe not. At that moment, I gave zero fucks. But Brody had to want me, too. In the grand scheme, he had just as much—if not more—to lose by us sleeping together as I did. Throwing back the rest of my wine, I leaned forward, met his gaze for longer than was polite.

  Heat stoked in his eyes, heavy with suggestion as the air shifted and the laughter faded. When his voice came out it was grainy, raw, deeper than normal. “Lily, don’t look at me like that, unless...”

  Just this once.

  I stood, sauntered over to where he’d pushed back from the table.

  His arms dropped to the sides, his neck tracking up to meet mine.

  “Do you want this, Brody?” I stared down at the man who ate up all the space in the room. The chocolatey irises and black scruff, the pink lips and slow slide of his throat as he swallowed. The way his chest rose and fell as he tried to control his breathing and failed. Before I could back down, I was lowering myself onto his parted knees without putting pressure where I wanted it most. His breath—sweet from dessert—fanned against my lips, and I knew the cheesecake wouldn’t taste even half as good as the man in front of me.

  Brody’s hands settled on my hips, an exhale escaping his throat.

  With one palm against his chest and the other framing his jaw, I leaned into him, let my soft belly brush against his hard abs. My breasts molded around the planes of his solid chest. My wide hips and thick thighs a perfect fit around the sides of his angular hips and lean waist. We were the perfect inverse, he the convex and I the concave. Flawlessly meant to fit together with all of our hollows and slopes made in universal complement.

  I brushed his lips with my own, a jolt of electricity riding over my skin as I tasted wine and cheesecake and Brody, and it was goddamned intoxicating. I needed more of that flavor. That feeling. More of the current running through my system that made my senses swim and watered down my memories.

  Sliding my hips forward, I swallowed his sharp inhale as I dipped my tongue between his lips. Reveling in the way his hands felt gripping me with a mix of strain and heat and raw need.

  Which was why I never expected him to say, “Lil, we have to slow down.”

  Brody’s voice cut through my haze. “Wh-what?”

  “You’ve had a lot of wine, darlin’.”

  I didn’t want to slow down. I wanted to lose myself in this man’s body the way I’d lost myself in the wine. Granted, I didn’t normally polish a bottle off by myself on a weeknight, but goddamn the way my mother ambushed me with her shady prick of a husband.

  And today of all days.

  And there they were again. All the memories I wanted to let go of.

  “I’m a big girl, Shaw. I know what I’m doing.” Instead of relenting, I brushed my open lips along his in a not quite kiss and arched my torso into him.

  “Sonofabitch,” he bit out, dropping his head back to thump it against the wall. “You’re gonna kill me, woman.” His hands tightened on my hips, keeping from moving, yet the bulge in his jeans grew more prominent.

  Honestly, the word bulge wasn’t adequate. Bulge had the connotation of a small protrusion. Like a hot dog or a bratwurst. Brody had a whole hard salami in his jeans. A summer sausage at the very least.

  Hand splayed along his jaw and cheek, I ran my teeth down the opposite side of his neck, sliding my tongue out to touch and taste his skin all salty with just a hint of sweet.

  His fingers dug into my hips harder, and the sound he made... Mercy. That low, guttural whisper of “uunnhh” from deep in his sternum that was so male it made my nipples chafe against my bra. It seemed entirely unfair to women everywhere that this man was as sexy as he was.

  One hand moved from my hip to my back, the other tangled in the hair at my nape. Biceps straining against his Henley, Brody fit his mouth against mine.

  That kiss was the perfect amount of wetness and depth, tongue and tease. I was fairly sure I whimpered as I disappeared into it. Lost myself in wine and chocolate and the beautiful man in front of me.

  With a gentle grip on my locks, he tugged my head back, sliding his kiss-swollen lips the length of my throat entirely too slowly. “Damn, woman. Your skin is so sweet.” But as I tried to shift my hips to find the pressure I craved, he slid an arm around my waist, lifting me the slightest bit and pinning me to his torso.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I have an “immense dong.” No, no, that’s not my ego talking—that’s what SHE said.

  Brody

  I needed to stop this before it went too far. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was taking this woman to bed when I had even the smallest doubt about her sobriety or ability to consent.

  Then she’d whispered, “Let me get lost in you.”

  As much as I wanted her, I knew she’d regret it later. No, I wouldn’t be her regret. I also couldn’t help the flash of disappointment I felt.

  Sure, I got what she needed. Whatever was bothering her—sometimes you just wanted to blow off steam and Lily wanted to use me to that end.

  But that’s not us. We’re already more.

  We weren’t one-night-standing this. Lily wasn’t some chick I could screw tonight and watch her go out with someone else tomorrow. No, I’d rip some poor fucknut’s head off before I let that happen.

  I liked this woman. I enjoyed spending time with her. We were friends and I wanted to get to know her better. To understand how experiences like being Billy Costello’s kid had shaped her. When I took Lily to bed, it would be when I knew she wanted me. Not number 58, not the celebrity, not to blow off steam with a guy she could trust, and not her friend whose help she needed to find a puppy mill.

  I’d know she was in it for me alone.

  Until then, I had no intention of letting this get any more hands-on.

  Picking up on the shift in me, she studied my face. “Something wrong?”

  Stroking her cheek with a finger, that violet hue hit me right in the gut. “Lily...” Instead of answering, I settled my forehead against hers, breathing in her intoxicating scent. Warm sugar cookies, and some exotic bloom. Cupping the side of her neck, I brushed my thumb over her swollen bottom lip. I wanted to be inside her. To know if that scent intensified when her most sensitive skin was damp from my lips. Yet, when she started to move against me—all that warm and soft against my hard and straining—I knew I couldn’t give her what she needed. Not tonight. “Shit.”

  If I continued to stay under her in that chair, I’d cave. I’d arch into her and put the pressure on, letting her slide against me until she found the oblivion she was searching for. Instead, I gripped her waist and stood, letting her legs fall away from my lap, but
holding her off the floor to set her against the kitchen wall. When a helpless sound escaped her throat, the ache at the base of my spine took on a life of its own. I knew she’d make that sound when she came for me.

  The things this woman did to me... Setting an arm above her head, I wiped my forehead with my shoulder, trying to get a grip. Lily had other ideas. When she met my look with all the shades of violet and plum swirling in her gaze... Heat. So much heat, I nearly broke. I wanted my mouth on hers so damn bad. That look was too raw, too full of the need I felt, too.

  Lips parted, she angled her head, waiting for me to drop my mouth to hers, and nothing in my life had ever been prettier, or harder to deny. “Fuck.” Even on her toes she couldn’t reach my mouth if I didn’t meet her partway. And I didn’t. Not that I didn’t want another of those drugging, drawn-out kisses of hers that tasted like sin come to life. But there was a chance she wouldn’t remember this.

  I’d be damned before I’d let her forget another kiss that singed my very soul.

  “Lily...” Why was doing the right thing so damn hard?

  “Brody...” Her voice was like silk.

  As I pried my eyelids open, she shifted her focus to my neck and brushed her lips over the hollow at the base of my throat, her little pink tongue slipping out to dip inside.

  In all my life, I hadn’t realized that would be such a turn-on or how perfectly a woman’s tongue filled that unassuming little spot. Not a woman’s tongue. This woman’s tongue.

  The sound that came out of me was somewhere between a moan and a caveman grunt. Just one more kiss. Sliding my hand into the hair at her nape, I tilted her head back and sank my mouth to hers.

  And I took. Slipping into her soft warmth, I ran my tongue through every inch of her mouth. Over tongue and teeth and every dark, damp crevice. In and out, back and forth. Each time I’d withdraw she’d chase, every new sensation uncovered, and she’d gasp, letting me swallow her sighs. Damn, we were good together. Lily Costello gave as good as she got.