The Best Thing
Page 7

He drew his shirt over his head, and she sucked in a breath at his wide shoulders, expansive chest and those abs—oh, dear God his stomach. She always ogled the male fashion models and their six-pack abs, figuring they were an anomaly. Apparently not, because Brody had a stacked eight-pack going on. She reached out to smooth her hand over his rippled muscles.
“Damn,” she said.
He grinned. “Thanks. You have a pretty hot body yourself, though I can’t wait to get you na**d so I can put my hands and mouth all over you.”
She shuddered at the thought. “Let’s get you na**d so we can get me na**d and move on to the fun stuff, then.”
She loved that he was in no hurry to get to her body. And when he unzipped his jeans and dropped them to the floor, leaving him in just his boxer briefs, she wondered what the hell he was doing in construction, when his gorgeous face and body could be blazing the billboards just like those athletes and models. With no sense of modesty he shucked the briefs, and she sent up a short prayer of thanks that she was going to have sex with this amazing man tonight.
She unashamedly looked her fill, then her gaze drifted up to his face where he quirked a smile.
“Now it’s your turn,” he said.
She reached for her jeans, but he pushed her back on the bed.
“It’s more fun if I get to do that.”
He peeled her jeans down her h*ps and over her legs, then draped her clothes over the chair next to the bed.
“These are nice,” he said, smoothing his hand over her peach-colored silk-and-lace panties. He drew her legs over the edge of the bed and cupped her sex, then dropped down to his knees between her legs.
He pressed a kiss to her hip bone, slowly dragging one side of her panties down. Then he moved to the other side, kissed her hip bone again, drew her panties over her h*ps and pulled them down her legs. He flung them over his shoulder and spread her legs. Tori breathed deeply as he looked up at her.
“Has anyone told you how beautiful you are?” he asked.
“Not lately.”
“I’ve always thought you were beautiful,” he said, smoothing his hand over her thigh and down her leg. He pressed a kiss to her knee. “But, Tori, you’re beautiful everywhere.”
She couldn’t breathe as he pressed kisses to her inner thighs. And when he put his mouth on her sex, she nearly died from the pleasure. She arched her h*ps upward, lost in the sensations as he played a masterful game with his tongue that took her right to the very edge of oblivion.
He gripped her h*ps and she reached for him, holding on to his hands as his expert mouth brought her so close to orgasm she bit her lip to keep from coming. Because this was pleasure she’d waited seemingly a lifetime for, had fantasized about, and now that it was real, she wanted to hold on, to savor the moment. But oh, he was so good, and she couldn’t stop the rollercoaster of her cl**ax as it plummeted her right over the cliff.
She cried out as she came, and Brody stayed right there with her, clasping her hands and using his mouth to heighten her pleasure until the pulses died down and she lowered her h*ps to the bed.
Brody raised up and scooted her further onto the bed as he climbed up her body, his mouth coming down on hers in a blistering kiss that stole what few senses she had left.
He let go of her only long enough to grab a condom and put it on, and then he rolled her underneath him and slid inside her. She gasped as he filled her.
He stilled, and she held on to his arms, watching him, feeling him expanding inside her.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispered as he brushed his lips against hers.
Emotion swelled and she pushed it aside. This wasn’t emotional. It was sex and nothing more. And as he moved against her, nearly shattering her again, she shielded her heart and closed her eyes, focusing only on the incredible sensations every stroke he made evoked.
“Tori.”
Her heart clenched at the soft timbre of Brody’s voice, like a caress, licking at the core of her soul.
“Tori, look at me.”
She opened her eyes and he moved inside her.
“Stay with me.”
He surged within her and grabbed one of her hands, lifting it above her head. He ground against her, slow and easy, the movement so intimate as he locked gazes with her. She felt each stroke all the way to her toes. What this man did to her tore her apart. Somehow she knew it was going to be like this—consuming every part of her and beyond just the physical. And as he brushed his lips across hers, the searing tenderness of it was her undoing. A cry tore from her and she shattered, tightening around him as she came.
With a low growl, he thrust into her in rapid succession, clenching her hip as he buried himself deep and shuddered with his own cl**ax. She wrapped her legs around him and held him, lost in the sensations—lost in Brody.
She’d long ago lost her heart to him. Making love with him had only cemented the love she had felt for him all these years. And as he rolled her over to her side and wrapped her tightly against him, she wondered how she was going to survive this with her heart intact.
Brody had expected great sex. Tori was fiery and passionate in everything she did, and he knew that would extend to the bedroom. What he hadn’t expected was the lightning bolt of emotion that had hit him when she’d turned those emerald-green eyes on him, the connection he’d feel to her when he was inside her.
He liked sex—a lot. It released endorphins and hey, it was fun. What wasn’t to like about it for both parties? But he’d never connected emotionally to it, because he’d never been attached to anyone before.
Until now.
And as he held Tori and stroked the softness of her skin, he wondered what the hell he was going to do about everything he was feeling right now, because this was new territory. Normally he’d cut and run, because he liked to keep things light and easy and non-complicated.
But this was Tori, whose middle name was complicated.
Which left things between them—where, exactly?
He tipped her chin and brushed his lips across hers. She smiled up at him, her eyes half lidded and sleepy. She snuggled up against his chest and pressed her body against his, where she fit perfectly.
Typically when a woman insinuated herself into his bed for the night, he’d start to think about how fast he could get her out of his house in the morning.
With Tori, he didn’t feel that way. He felt...comfortable with her here. In his bed, and in his house.
And maybe in his life.
He should go to sleep before he started to think too much about what the hell that meant. There was already too much going on in his head as it was.
Chapter Seven
When Tori woke the next morning, she had a few seconds of disorientation. First, she was in a very comfortable, oversized monstrosity of a bed, so it definitely wasn’t hers.
Second, underused muscles were sore, and then she remembered last night.
And Brody, which reminded her where she was.
In Brody’s bed, with no Brody in sight. But she smelled bacon. And coffee. And her stomach growled in response.
She started to throw the covers off to get dressed, but Brody came through the door right then with a tray.
“Don’t get dressed,” he said. “I have coffee and breakfast.”
“In bed? I can come into the kitchen.”
“No.” He set the tray down and poured a cup of coffee that he filled with two dollops of cream, then added a spoonful of sugar, just the way she made hers. He handed her the cup. “I want us to eat in bed.”
She inhaled the brew, then took a sip. “Mmmm. Decadent.”
While he poured his coffee, she admired his lean physique in his low-slung sweat pants and no shirt. He was barefoot, too.
“Aren’t your feet cold?”
He looked down at his feet. “Uh, no. I don’t get cold. I’m used to working outside in the winter and it’s plenty warm in here. Are you cold? I could turn the heat up.”
She raised her knees. “I’m plenty warm.” And heating up fast as she ogled him.
“Good. I made pancakes and eggs—scrambled—plus bacon and sausage and hash browns.”
She arched a brow at the smorgasbord he presented her. “You lied last night. You can cook.”
“I’m no master chef, but I do have to eat to survive, so there are a few things I know how to fix. What would you like?”
“Pancakes sound great. And bacon. I love bacon.”
He grabbed a piece of bacon and held it in front of her lips. “Bite.”
She took a taste. It was crispy. “Perfect,” she said after she’d swallowed.
He took the next bite, then her. Sharing the meal together was intimate, and she had to admit, fun to eat in bed. Naked. Though she was the only one na**d, a fact she was reminded of every time Brody glanced at her breasts. It made breakfast an interesting experience.
“Lots of syrup or only a little?” he asked after they polished off the bacon and eggs, which he’d also shared with her by feeding her.
“Lots.”
He poured syrup on the pancakes, then scooped some onto the fork and slid it into her mouth.
“Oh, that’s delicious.”
“Thanks. It’s my own recipe.”
“Not a box mix?”
He looked horrified. “Bite your tongue. Pancakes are sacred.”
She laughed, and when he hovered near her lips for the next bite, syrup dripped over her breasts.
She looked down. “Oops. Did you bring napkins?”
“Yeah, but I’ll get that.” He laid the fork on the plate and bent down to lick the drops of syrup from her breast, then ended by capturing her nipple between his lips and sucking.
She gasped, then held his head there while he tasted her. When he lifted his head, he said, “You taste much better than the pancakes.”
He grabbed the bottle of syrup and poured another few drops over both breasts, letting some dip between the valley and over her nipples. Breakfast forgotten, Tori leaned back against the pillows and Brody dropped his sweats, his erection a much better appetizer than the bacon.
He climbed onto the bed and licked along the valley between her breasts, moved to one nipple, then the other, cleaning the trail of syrup he’d mapped. By the time she was clean, she was hot, and more than wet in another strategic area.
“Brody,” she said, capturing his head between her hands. He moved up her body to kiss her, his lips and tongue sweet like the syrup.
He cupped her butt and shifted her sideways on the bed, laying her flat under him, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. She was throbbing and ready for him when he entered her. He rolled to his side and she lifted a leg over his hip, giving him deeper access as he thrust into her with quick, fierce movements that made her rake her nails down his back.
She was so close so fast, his syrup foreplay driving her to the brink in a maddening instant. And when she came, he went with her, his loud groan eclipsed by her shattering cries.
He rolled again, this time pulling her on top of him so he could stroke her back and butt. She loved his hands on her, loved the feel of his body underneath her.
She was afraid she was never going to get enough of Brody, that there would never be enough time to get him out of her system.
“I think we’re stuck together,” he finally said.
She lifted, and he was right. The syrup had made both their chests sticky. She laughed. “I guess a shower is in order.”
She climbed off and he led her into the shower, where he showed her another trick or two about his lovemaking prowess. And to prove how utterly decadent she could be on a weekend with Brody, after that they climbed back into bed and made love again, then took a nap.
She decided as he played with her breast and she drifted off into a lazy slumber that she might live in this fantasy forever and never come back to reality.
Because in this fantasy, Brody belonged to her.
And she belonged to him.
Chapter Eight
Monday was an ugly reality, especially since Brody had to bring her to work.
Time had escaped her and she’d lost all track of it in Brody’s arms and in his bed. He’d driven her to her apartment on Saturday so she could grab some fresh clothes. They’d hung out at his house all weekend watching movies, cooking, eating, playing video games, and mostly having the most amazing sex of her life. It was like the dam had burst and she’d let go of everything she’d held back all these years.
She’d never had more fun.
Until his alarm had gone off at five-thirty Monday morning.
What had she been thinking? Her car was still parked at Kent Construction’s office. What if Wyatt or Ethan got there first? She should have had Brody take her back to her car Sunday night. Then she could have gone home and no one would ever know except the two of them.
Even worse, they’d spent the entire weekend so lost in each other, they hadn’t once had a serious conversation about what this had meant, or what it would mean come Monday, when reality set in and they went back to working together.
Obviously, it meant nothing. It was a fantasy weekend, and now everything would go back to the way it had been before. But she’d been in such a sex-induced haze of pleasure and giddiness she’d forgotten to set ground rules, the first and most important being, Don’t Tell Anyone In Deer Lake That We Slept Together.
Now she was in his truck and she was exhausted—though happily exhausted—and Brody wasn’t saying anything and neither was she. Though he didn’t seem tense or nervous as he casually drank his to-go cup of coffee. Apparently she was the only one about to implode.
“You sure you don’t want me to drop you by your apartment for more clothes?” he asked as they drove down Central toward the office.
“No. I’m fine. I grabbed extra when you brought me by my place over the weekend.”