by Jaci Burton
Brady searched the dance floor until he found Reid. Sam was right. Dude did not know how to dance. In fact, he kind of looked like he was having a stroke up there.
"Yeah, well, he's a braver man than I am, then."
"Uh-huh. And at some point Megan is going to have some random guy's hands all over her."
"Nah. I trust Deacon and Zach. And Megan."
"Sure you do. But she loves to dance. And I wasn't talking about Deacon or Zach or any of the guys we know and trust. I meant some random drunken dipshit who's not in our trust circle is going to notice she's alone and available and maybe not be so trustworthy." Sam patted his shoulder. "Food for thought, Brady."
"Yeah, thanks."
He studied Megan out on the dance floor. So far, nothing had happened. But maybe . . .
He finally got out of his seat where his butt had been warming the chair for the better part of an hour. He shed his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and made his way through the throng of dancers.
Deacon at least had some rhythm. He tapped him on the shoulder.
"Cutting in."
Deacon grinned and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Perfect timing. I need a beer and some air."
Deacon grabbed Megan's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Thanks for the dances, honey."
Megan grinned. "Anytime."
Brady stepped in front of her, and Megan arched a brow. "You sure you're up for this?"
"You sure your feet aren't sore yet?"
She wound her hand around the back of his neck. "I could do this all night."
"Okay, then, dancing queen. Let's do this."
He did his best to keep up, but the woman had moves, and he had four left feet. But Megan didn't seem to notice. She danced around him, nestled up next to him, and seemingly had a great time just being with him.
So maybe he'd just been an asshole and too self-conscious, because Megan apparently didn't care that he couldn't dance for shit. And when the music slowed to something romantic, he pulled her close.
Now this part he could do. He swept his hand down her rib cage and over her hip, letting his fingers rest just above her butt.
Megan tilted her head back to look up at him. "Taking liberties, Mr. Conners?"
"You bet your gorgeous ass I am, Ms. Lee."
"You know, I have had quite a bit of wine to drink, and while I've danced some of it off, it's entirely possible I might be slightly inebriated."
His lips curved. "Fortunately for you, I've only had a couple of beers, am stone-cold sober, and intend to take full advantage of your inebriated state. Once I make sure you get home safely."
"How gallant of you. In a fairly self-serving way, of course."
"Of course." He let his hand drift lower, and since the dance floor was crowded, no one noticed when his hand drifted over her butt and drew her closer to what was fast becoming a serious erection problem.
Her brow arched up. "Hmm, a preview for later?"
"You could say that."
"You have my full attention."
He decided it would probably be a good idea to give himself some distance from Megan's hot body before the dance ended, so he stepped back and made the dance a lot less intimate. By the time the music switched to something fast-paced, Megan said she was ready to cool off and get something to drink.
"More wine?" he asked after he walked her back to their table.
She shook her head. "I think I've had more than enough wine. Some sparkling water would be great."
"I'll be right back." He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers.
She tasted so good, and when she lifted up as if she wanted more, he thought about letting the kiss linger.
But now wasn't the time or the place, so he reluctantly created some distance between them.
But soon enough, this wedding would be over. He'd take her home and remove that damned enticing dress she wore, and then he'd have her naked and underneath him. Or over him. He didn't much care, as long as the two of them were alone and he was inside of her.
He filed that visual away for later.
Chapter 25
IT HAD BEEN a stellar night. Megan's friends had gotten married, she had been there to witness it, and she'd had one of the hottest dates there--in her opinion.
And best of all, the cake had turned out perfectly. Chelsea had raved about it and Bash had pronounced it delicious, and as long as the bride and groom loved it, she was happy.
Though she also noticed that Brady had eaten two pieces. She was beginning to suspect he had a demon sweet tooth, especially when he shrugged out of his suit coat when they got back to her place and immediately grabbed one of the pieces of croquembouche pastry and popped it into his mouth as he took Roxie out back.
She laughed, then kicked her shoes off and stepped into the kitchen to grab the open bottle of wine. She poured herself a glass and took a sip. When Brady came back in with Roxie, she asked him if he wanted a glass of wine or something else to drink.
"Just water for me. Thanks."
She poured water into the glass she'd filled with ice, then handed it to him.
"These things are good," he said, grabbing another pastry ball from the tower. "Also, it looks really hard to make. They're like cream puffs, right?"
"Sort of. And I'm glad you like them."
He swallowed, then took a sip of water. "I like everything you bake."
"That's quite a compliment to a baker."
"Just being honest."
She leaned against the counter and sipped her wine, unable to keep herself from staring at him. He'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He'd also rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.
She was so used to seeing him in jeans and T-shirts. He was sexy enough in those. But in a white button-down shirt and a tie? The man was devastating.
And the way he looked at her, with that incredibly direct, I'm-going-to-eat-you-alive kind of smoldering gaze, made every female part of her quiver in anticipation.
"Something on your mind?" he asked.
"Several things, actually."
He swept his finger down the outside of the glass.
"Have I ever mentioned how much I like your hands?" she asked.
"Uh, no. But go on."
"You have elegant fingers. Still, extremely masculine. But the art you create with your hands is magical. And the things you can do to my body with those hands is also quite magical."
He laid the glass on the island and came around it. Despite the fact that this wasn't the first time they'd been alone together, she noted the way her heart rate sped up, the dizzying breathlessness that came over her whenever he got close to her. Brady had a way about him that simply wired her up and made her neurons fire hot for him.
Just him. It had never been hot and passionate and so incredibly sexual for her with anyone but Brady.
And yet, when he brushed her hair away from her face, there was also a tenderness, an emotional yearning that had a lot more to do with her heart and a lot less to do with her sexual cravings.
She was in so deep with this man that it was dizzying, overwhelming, intense. She felt like she was stepping too close to an extremely dangerous fire. And yet all she wanted to do was let it consume her, especially when his lips touched hers.
Like wildfire, an explosion of heat enveloped her in a passion that was out of control.
And suddenly, she couldn't get enough of his mouth, his tongue, the touch of his hand along her back. She leaned into Brady, raking her nails along his arms, moaning with her need to have him.
He crushed her to him and deepened the kiss. It was sweet torment, to feel this close to him, to have what she wanted, but it only served to ratchet up the blinding tension that made her crave that fulfillment she so desperately needed.
He kissed her jaw, then blazed a trail of hot kisses along her throat and toward her shoulder. When he drew the strap of her dress off her shoulder and nipped that area with his teeth, she felt di
zzy with the effects of the spell he wove over her.
"I've thought about getting you out of this dress all night long," he murmured against her skin. "About what you might have on underneath it."
"Something special."
With a low growl, he swept her into his arms and carried her into the bedroom, then stood her next to the bed. He turned her around so he could draw the zipper down on her dress.
It pooled into a heap at her feet and Brady held her hands while she stepped out of it.
"Holy shit," he said.
When she'd bought the dress, she'd known none of her everyday underwear could go with it. The copper metallic dress needed something special, so she'd found dark copper-colored underwear, but it sure was barely there--it was just a demi bra and thong panties.
"Stand right there and don't move. I need to just . . . look at you for a few minutes."
Under normal circumstances she'd feel ridiculous standing there in her underwear modeling for him, but as he watched her, he began to unbutton his shirt. She had to admit, she didn't mind watching the reveal of his skin button by button.
She finally stepped up and undid the last few buttons herself. She had to get close to him, had to feel that blast of heat that always seemed to emanate from his skin. She breathed in the masculine scent of him, then spread her palms over his shoulders and drew the shirt down his arms.
"I might want you to wear my shirt later," he whispered, bending down to draw his tongue across her neck. "While I have you bent over the sofa."
She shivered at the visual. "I think we can arrange that."
He undid the buckle of his belt, then unzipped his pants and let those fall. His boxer briefs followed, and he was gloriously, beautifully nude.
"But for now," he said, pushing her back on the bed. "I need to worship this new underwear of yours."
She scooted to the center of the bed. "I'd rather you take it off."
"Yeah, we'll get there." He skimmed his fingers over the tiny scraps of lace at her hips. "You bought these to torture me, didn't you?"
"To please you. I thought you might like them."
He nipped at her hip bone, pulling the strap up with his teeth before letting it fall back in place. "Oh, I like them."
He made his way up her body, sliding his tongue around her belly button, then kissing her rib cage and shoulders before teasing the swell of her breasts with his tongue. He put his mouth around her nipple, silk fabric and all, and sucked--hard.
She let out a yelp of pure unadulterated pleasure as he kept sucking her nipple until she thought she might have an actual orgasm from him doing that.
And when he stopped, he teased the bud with his fingers while she fought to catch her breath--and her sanity.
He pulled the cup back. "Such a flimsy little piece of fabric. If I'd known you were wearing these while we were at the wedding, I'd have taken you outside, lifted your dress, and had you right on the balcony."
Her sex quivered. "I'd have enjoyed that."
His brows arched. "Filing that piece of information away for some other time."
She was aching for him, and as she swept her hand across his jaw, he took one of her fingers in his mouth and sucked. She quaked, inside and out.
"Brady."
"Yeah."
"I need you."
"What do you need? My mouth on you like this?" He bent and dragged his tongue across her nipple, then drew it into his mouth, slowly sucking on her until she whimpered.
He dropped down beside her, letting his fingers map a trail from between her breasts over her stomach. "Or do you need my hands on you, like this?"
He slipped his hand inside her underwear to cup her sex.
"You're so hot and wet down here. Do you need me to make you come, Megan?"
"Yes." She needed that more than anything. She was so in tune to him, to the way his hand moved over her, the sound of his voice, that this wasn't going to take long. Like, probably in an embarrassing way, she'd go off in a matter of seconds.
And as she suspected, he'd no more than brushed his hand over her a few times, using his expert fingers to find her clit and rub it as if he'd known her hot button like a best friend, and she was going over the top with a wild cry. She quivered against him while he murmured hot and sexy words against her ear, prolonging the exquisite pleasure.
While she was recovering from that blast of euphoria, Brady pulled off her bra and panties, licking her breasts and her sex, making her feel warm and languid and ready for more.
He kissed her, and she rolled over on top of him, needing him to feel that same passion he coaxed out of her every single time.
She leaned over on the nightstand and grabbed a condom. "Ready for a ride?"
His lips ticked up. "Saddle me up, babe, and let's go."
She put the condom on him, and then slid down on his shaft, her nerve endings still on fire after that amazing orgasm he'd given her. Her sex gripped him tightly and she took a few seconds to enjoy the feel of that, watching Brady's eyes darken.
"Yeah. I like that, too," he said, sweeping his hands over her thighs.
She rocked forward, an explosion of sweet sensation threatening to make her topple into yet another climax.
She stilled, waiting. This time she'd make him come with her. She leaned forward, lifting off him just enough to tease him a little before sliding back down on him again.
He tangled his fingers in her hair and brought her forward for a blistering-hot kiss that sent her tumbling over the edge. She moaned against his lips as she came, firing even hotter and faster with her climax as she took in his answering groans. She held on to his shoulders as he thrust into her and released, shuddering against her.
She settled against his shoulder, coming down off that incredible high while listening to the sound of his breathing. She could stay like this all night, just lying on top of him, letting his hands tenderly roam over her back.
They finally disengaged and cleaned up. Brady went to check on Roxie, while Megan got water for both of them.
"Is she okay?"
"Sound asleep on her blanket. With her chicken under her chin."
Megan handed him a glass of water. He took two long gulps, then set the glass on the coaster on the nightstand.
He pulled her against him and Megan settled in next to him.
"Don't forget about round two in my shirt."
"Trust me--I haven't forgotten about it."
They both fell asleep before round two.
Chapter 26
BRADY WOKE UP to an empty bed. And it was still dark outside.
What the hell time was it, anyway? He reached over on the nightstand, but his phone wasn't there.
Oh, right. It was in his suit coat pocket, which was somewhere in Megan's living room.
He went into the bathroom and, when he came out, grabbed a pair of jeans from the bag he'd brought over last night. He put on the jeans and made his way into the kitchen.
Now that wasn't something he expected to see at--he glanced up at the clock on the kitchen wall--six in the morning on a Sunday.
There was Megan, dressed in his white shirt from last night. It hung low on her thighs, and she had the sleeves rolled up past her elbows. And damn if she didn't look sexy as hell with her hair pulled high up on top of her head. Flour covered a wood cutting board, and she was humming to herself and rocking back and forth as she rolled some dough with a rolling pin.
Oh, she had earbuds in, and her miniplayer was clipped to the front of his shirt while she worked away.
He leaned against the doorway for a while to watch her. She rolled, sprinkled out more flour and rolled some more, then stirred something in a bowl.
Damn, the woman was hot, especially when she bent over to pull a pan out from one of the cabinets in the island.
He grinned. She had great legs and a really fine ass.
His dick got hard.
She stopped to take a sip of coffee, then went back to rocking out and rolling f
lour.
When she twirled, she stopped suddenly and pulled her earbuds out.
"I didn't see you standing there."
He pushed off the doorway and moved into the kitchen. "I was enjoying the show. Nice shirt."
She grinned. "I thought you might enjoy that."
"You know I do. And do you bake every damn day?"
"Pretty much."
He swiped flour from one of her cheeks with the pad of his thumb, then brushed his lips over hers. "It's early."
"I know. That's why I tried not to wake you."
"You didn't. But I'll take a cup of coffee now that I'm awake."
"Cups are in the cupboard to the left of the sink."
He pulled a cup down, then brewed himself a cup of coffee and came over to stand beside her.
"What are you fixing?"
"Apple turnovers. I thought those sounded good for breakfast. I'm going to do eggs and sausages, too. And I'll cut up some fruit."
His stomach grumbled. "You don't have to cook for me. Or bake for me."
She lifted up on her toes to kiss him. "But I want to. Plus, I'd bake even if you weren't here."
"Good to know. What can I do to help?"
"I'll cut the dough into triangles. You can spoon this stuff in the middle."
"Okay." He washed and dried his hands, then waited for Megan to cut the dough into triangles. Once she did, she walked him through how much to put into the center.
"Good," she said. "Not too much or I won't be able to close them, but not too little. We want them bursting with apple goodness."
He leaned into her. "You're making me hungry."
She lifted her gaze to his, then smiled. "That's the idea."
Once he finished, she put another triangle on the top of each one, then crimped the edges. She brushed the pastries with egg and put them in the oven. After she washed her hands she said, "Now, while those are cooking I can slice fruit and start cooking the sausages."
"I'll cook the sausages."
"All right."
They worked together, and he had to admit, this wasn't too bad. In the not so recent past he either didn't eat breakfast at all or had a piece of toast.
But lately, he waited until about ten or so and went to the bakery to get something Megan had baked.
She was spoiling him for really good bakery items.
As he monitored the sausages, the smell from the oven assaulted his senses--in a spectacular way.
"Those apple turnovers smell really damn fine, Megan."