Текст книги "Can't Resist Him"

Автор книги: Molly McLain

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Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

“I appreciate the offer, but my phone’s in the living room. In my purse.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “So you lied.”

She lifted a shoulder and flashed an innocent smile. “Sue me. You caught me off guard tonight. I needed a little air.”

Oh yeah, he liked where this was going. “Me? I thought your boy toy was to blame for this freak-out.”

She rolled her eyes and moved past him toward the door. Goddamn, her ass in those jeans...

“Don’t let it go to your head, Superman. I just like your t-shirt.”

Chapter Six

Love sucks, true love swallows.

Only Brody would wear a t-shirt like that to his grandparents’ house. Only Brody would be ballsy enough to plant his ass beside her on the couch, too, not giving a shit that he was the only rooster among the hens and that his buddies were talking smack about him in the kitchen because of it.

“He’s just worried he’ll get his ass beat at the table.”

“Fucker still owes me twenty bucks from the last time he played with us...two years ago.”

“Nah, he just feels more comfortable with the chicks. They’re probably painting their nails.”

“Are you just going to sit there and take that?” Maddie him asked from the floor in front of the coffee table once again. On her left, Carissa set out Cards Against Humanity.

“I’ve got a pretty good hand right here, don’t you think?” He waved a hand around at the all the ladies. “Four queens and an ace in the hole.” He squeezed Jenny’s knee on the last few words and she gave a bark of laughter.

“I know you’re not talking about me, Clark.”

Mischief danced in his eyes. “No? Should I tell them what you said in your sl—”

Slap! She fastened her hand over his mouth, both of them laughing. “I will cut you, I swear to God.”

“Wait a second,” Heather interjected while she flipped her hair up into a sloppy bun and settled into place on the other side of Maddie. “Who the hell is Clark? And why do I feel like you two know each other way better than any of us realized?”

“Oh, we do,” Brody said behind Jenny’s fingers, his eyebrows bouncing. She clamped down harder, giving him a warning glare, but then his hand dashed out, catching her in the ticklish spot just below her ribs. She collapsed against his chest, cursing under his vicious attack. “We know each other real well, don’t we, Jenn?”

She should kick his ass. And she probably would, as soon as he stopped touching her and she could breathe again. But, dammit, she hadn’t laughed like this in months. And—duh—he was touching her.

“Don’t let him fool you, ladies.” She shoved off of him, straightened her sweater, and poked his nose with a stern fingertip. “Clark here likes to talk big, but sadly that’s all...” Poke. “...he’s...” Poke. “...got.”

“Guess he’s a smart guy, then.” Reed ambled into the room, eyes narrowed on Brody and then her. Like she owed him some kind of explanation. Well, screw that. She waved him off, hoping he’d go away, but he dropped into a recliner instead.

Maybe Brody was right—maybe Reed was trying to string her along.

“You playing, Reed?” Nicole pulled a Frozen tiara from her purse, clearly pilfered from Tony’s daughter’s toy box. “I’ve got our Queen Bitch crown right here. Since Brody’s obviously full of shit and we’re too ladylike to admit when we went last, I think you should start.”

Reed brought his beer to his mouth, all the while glancing subtly between her and Brody. “Yeah, I’m in. Seems like all the action is in here anyway.”

Was he really going to do this? God.

“Alrighty then, let’s get this show started.” Nicole kneed her way across the floor and stuck the tiara on top of his head. “Pick your cards, servant bitches.”

***

“A girl’s best friend is...” Heather twisted her lips and considered the cards in front of her. “Hands down, a girl’s best friend is multiple orgasms.”

“Booyah!” Jenny high-fived the bartender over the coffee table. “I got you figured out, girl!”

“No fair. I don’t have any sex cards.” Carissa pouted while Heather handed Jenny the crown for the fifth time in an hour. “Someone trade me.”

“Not a chance, baby doll.” Maddie giggled and crowded her cards close to her chest. “Maybe Brody will share. I can tell by the pervy look in his eyes that he’s hoarding all the good ones.”

Jenny snorted. “Nah, that’s his normal look. Total perv, 24/7.”

He chuckled and, from his position behind her, nudged her in the ass with his knee. “Just read your card already, sugar. I’ve gotta get going soon.”

Wasn’t that was a shame. The night was young and, just like Vegas, she didn’t want him go. But asking him to stay again...that would be a dead giveaway. Not to mention it’d go against the solidarity she’d worked so hard on the past month and a half.

Clearing her throat, she pulled a black card from the pile and read it. Then she burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, I love this one.” She turned to Brody and smiled. “What is Superman’s guilty pleasure?”

A devious glint flashed in his eyes and he reached forward, ferociously throwing down a card. Like he’d been sitting on it, waiting for this moment.

“That was fast. You must be sure of this one,” she teased as the others added their cards to the pile.

“Superman and I are like this.” He lifted two crossed fingers and grinned. “Let’s see how well you know him.”

“Hmm, game on.” Gathering the cards, she read them aloud, immediately eliminating Jack’s magical beans and wet flatulence.

“What do you have left?” Reed grinned, completely clueless to the private joke between her and the sexy man behind her. The man who’d somehow managed to make her laugh and feel desirable at the same time.

“I’ve got chocolate covered blowjobs.” She cast a quick glance at the girls, gurgling with amusement. “Masturbation.” More giggles. “And, last but not least, a finger in her ass.”

“Lois Lane is a bitch, so you know Superman’s taking it to hand every chance he can get,” Maddie spoke up and everyone laughed. “It’s definitely masturbation. No question about it.”

“I don’t know. Superman probably likes his fair share of BJs, too. In fact, he probably gets them from all the damsels he saves.” Brody wasn’t the kind of guy who’d turn down a woman on her knees, but somehow that answer felt too easy. The other one? Hot damn. She squeezed her cheeks together just thinking about it. “I’m going with the ass play. I’ve got a feeling Superman’s a dirty, dirty boy.”

“I think you’re right.” Brody leaned forward, tossed his cards onto the table, and winked. “I win, but unfortunately, I’ve gotta run. It’s already past Gram’s bedtime.”

Jenny’s heart sank, but she put on a smile anyway. “That’s probably a good thing, since that shirt you’ve got on is completely inappropriate.”

“You just want it for yourself, sugar, don’t lie.”

He was right. But she didn’t want it for the slogan—she wanted it because it would smell like him. She might’ve stuck her face in his pillow for an extra few seconds before leaving her hotel room in Vegas, in an attempt to figure out what kind of shampoo he used. So she could buy some for home and...yeah. Dirty shower scenarios may or may not have come into play with that fantasy.

“Well, it was good to see you again, Nelson.” Reed stood and offered his hand, though the skepticism on his face still showed clear. Good, Jenny thought, let him wonder. “I ran into Sam Conrad in Omaha a couple weeks back. Said something about another deployment in the near future.”

Oh, no. Brody hadn’t mentioned that. Then again it wasn’t like they’d chatted much—at all—in the past six weeks. She swung her attention to him just in time to see him grimace. Shit. He was leaving, wasn’t he?

He scratched the back of his neck, his discomfort obvious. “Yeah, some of the guys are headed out again. A short-term stint. Nothing serious.”

“You’re going?” Wow, was that her voice sounding so devastated?

He shook his head. “No. Not this time.”

Thank God. “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

“At least one of us is.” He chuckled, but there was no humor in that deep rumble. No light in those normally bright gaze. Why would he want to go back after everything that had happened?

“Can I walk you out?” she asked, not giving a damn that she was opening herself up to all sorts of presumption in this room full of friends, including Reed. Brody had been there for her in Vegas and if she could offer something similar to him in return...

“Sure, Jenn.” He smiled, but the shine still didn’t return to his eyes. “Let me say goodnight to the guys.”

***

With one glance, she’d damn near murdered him right there in Josh’s living room. First, it was the fear that had fallen across her face and then it was the hero worship. Neither of which he deserved. He’d signed up for this—it was his job. And if he’d been anything close to heroic, two of his best buddies wouldn’t have fucking died on his watch.

Still, she’d looked at him with more concern than he felt worthy of and now she stood outside in this cold ass, single digit weather for him, too. Though the snow had subsided, she pulled the furry hood of her parka over her head while he started his truck and cranked the defrosters. She looked like an Eskimo, all warm and cozy, and he wished he didn’t have to leave, so he could pull her in close and share in her comfort just one more time. Then he’d tell her that he wasn’t the man she thought he was. That she should save her fear and compassion for a guy who deserved them. A guy who hadn’t left his buddies’ souls back in the desert.

“Tell me you have a hoodie in there somewhere,” she said when he closed the truck door and tucked his hands into his pockets, bouncing on his toes to ward off the chill.

“I’m fine. It’s you I’m worried about. You didn’t have to come out here.”

“Yes, I did.” She shifted forward and slid her arms around his waist without hesitation. “Here, let me warm you up.”

Jesus Christ. She really wanted to kill him, didn’t she?

“You know he’s probably peeking from behind the curtain,” he said, turning his face into the protection of her hood.

“Good.” She ran her hands up and down his back, creating heated friction between her skin and the cotton of his shirt. “Maybe he’ll stop watching my every move.”

“You using me to piss off your ex, sugar?” When he tried to rock them from side to side, hoping to make light of the only half-sarcastic question, she tensed. “I’ve been that guy before. I’d do it for you if it meant getting him off your back.”

She pulled back, her pretty brow furrowed. “This isn’t about him.”

“This?” He liked the sound of that way more than he should. “What do you mean by that?”

“You told me your last deployment was awful, yet you want to go back again. Why? And don’t tell me it’s just your job, because we both know that’s a cop-out.”

Ah, that kind of this. “Don’t read too much into what I said that night. Most of that was the whiskey talking.”

She shook her head. “No, you spoke from the heart. And the subconscious doesn’t lie, either.”

Stupid, drunken stupor. “Look, it’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me so I don’t make assumptions.” She wiggled closer until the soft fullness of her tits hit his chest. Goddamn, she felt good. Why couldn’t she have been like all the other women in Vegas that night? Why couldn’t she have been content to fuck him and be on her merry way?

“I can’t.” Wow, Nelson, that’s deep.

She stared up him, giving him no chance to look away and hide what her spot-on intuition had probably already sensed—he was a walking, talking fucking mess. “You can’t or you don’t want to? Maybe I’m not the right person, but there’s got to be some—”

“Jenny, stop. Please. We don’t talk about this shit, okay?”

She nodded and he hated the pity he saw in her eyes. “I get it, I do. But I can see that it’s eating you alive and I...I just want you to know that if you ever did feel like talking, I’d listen.”

Goddamn. “You’re too friggin’ giving for your own good, you know that?”

“You didn’t leave me in Vegas. You held my hand while we slept.”

He should send her on her way. Tell her to run while she had the chance.

Fuck it. He tugged on the sides of her hood to bring her close and then he dipped his head, his focus on those shivering pink lips. “That asshole in there? He’s got no fucking idea what he’s throwing away.”

She blinked at him, her eyes flicking from his gaze to his mouth, hovering above hers. “He doesn’t?” she whispered.

“Nope. I should be a good friend and leave it at that, but...” He gave his head a half shake. “I’m not feeling real friendly all of the sudden.”

Realization flashed in her eyes and a small smile quirked her mouth. “How are you feeling?”

“Like this...” He dipped his head and he kissed her. Not soft, but not gentle either. This girl could take it. She had the kind of strength he’d only seen a handful of times before. In Ernie and Troy and a few of his fellow Marines, who understood the magnitude of the commitment they’d made when they’d signed on that dotted line. But putting on a uniform and toting a gun didn’t make you a hero—being a decent fucking human being did that.

Jenny Riley had that shit down pat. She was the most real person he’d met in a long time. She'd give you the shirt off her back if you needed it. And she’d kick your ass a second later if you deserved it.

And kiss...fuck, could she kiss. She pushed up on her toes, fisted his shirt, and gave just as good as she got. Parted lips, soft moans, and the slow, fiery caress of her tongue against his. That sweet perfume she wore had nothing on the honey dripping off her tongue and he cursed himself for not doing this in Vegas.

He wasn’t ready to talk. Nor was he ready to be the kind of man Jenny deserved. But maybe they could compromise and give each other what they could, because it was obvious they gave each other something.

And a little bit of Jenny Riley was better than any therapy session.

Chapter Seven

I can’t resist him. I should, but...I can’t. And, God help me, I don’t want to.

Brody pushed her hood back and slid his finger into her hair, holding her steady while he rocked her world with nothing but his mouth. Well, maybe that wasn’t true—his hard body pressed against hers got her warm in all the right places, too.

He softened the kiss, his lips and tongue featherlike against hers, and she missed him before he even broke contact. Maybe he wasn’t eager to retreat either, because he rested his forehead down on hers and caressed her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

She smiled. “Mmm, that wasn’t the kind of talking I had in mind, but if you’d rather communicate with kisses, I’m game.”

Brody chuckled. “You’re way too easily persuaded, sugar.”

Story of her life, but, like a true addict, she told herself she’d deal with the repercussions later. Right now, she needed the hit. “Are you complaining?”

“Nope. I’ve kicked my own ass for the past six weeks, wishing I’d tasted you in Vegas.”

Like I’m some kind of delicacy. Butterflies tickled in her belly and a rush of desire spread south¸ making her sex pulse. Definitely an addict.

“Look, I’m coming back through on Sunday. I know it goes against your whole men suck movement right now, but I’d like to see you again.” He twirled a strand of her hair around his finger and she watched errant snowflakes melt on his eyelashes.

“I won’t sleep with you,” she said, repeating his words from that first night, though she hated herself for having to. It was tempting to give in and tell herself she’d start her no-man diet again after Brody, but that was a self-defeating cycle she’d been caught up in for too long already. And even the worst addicts had to put up a fight sometimes.

“I don’t expect you to. I know that you’ve probably heard that from plenty of other guys. Even telling you I just want to spend a little time getting to know you better probably sounds cliché. I can’t escape the long-standing history of my gender—”

“Or the fact that you’re sex in combat boots,” she interjected, the heat rising in her cheeks before she could finish the sentence. He gave a crooked grin.

“Talk like that is gonna make it hard for me to be an honorable man, sugar.”

“I won’t pretend I’m not attracted to you, so I guess that means I’ll have to work even harder to resist the temptation.” What was it about this man that inspired her to spill her guts without shame? Well, maybe there was a little shame—if she hadn’t acted so foolishly up until this point, she might actually be able to have him like she wanted him. Every last sexy bit of him.

“I don’t want to make it harder on you, Jenn. In fact, if you think hanging out with a guy like me will set back your efforts to do whatever it is you wanna do, then I won’t stop by.”

She put a finger to his lips. “Let me worry about that, okay?”

The lights from the house twinkled in his eyes and he brushed one last, sweet kiss across her lips. “For the road.”

She closed her eyes and her heart thumped as she savored his promising caress. She could do this. She could totally do this. As long as they could keep kissing, anyway.

“Wait...” He broke away and retrieved his phone from the truck. “What’s your number?” She told him and he thumbed it in. “I just texted you, so you’ll have my number, too. Let me know if you change your mind about Sunday.”

“I won’t.”

***

Jenny closed the side door to Josh and Carissa’s garage, a goofy grin pinned on her flushed face. She had a sorta date with a man who was not only sexy as hell, but also understood and seemed to respect the changes she needed to make in her life. If she went at this with eyes wide open, there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t continue to see Brody and maintain her self-respect, as well.

“When the hell did that happen?”

Reed’s voice startled her from her thoughts. The sight of him sitting on the steps before the kitchen door had her heart cartwheeling up to her throat. An empty beer sat on the stoop beside him and he lifted another bottle to his mouth, swallowing down a long gulp.

“How long have you been out here?” she countered. More importantly, how much of her conversation with Brody had he overhead? Had he listened in on purpose?

“Long enough to confirm my suspicions. Did you two hook up when he was in town last or...?” He arched an eyebrow and sudden anger churned in her gut. She held up a warning hand.

“If you’re insinuating that I got together with him while I was still messing around with you, don’t worry—I didn’t two-time you. Whether or not it would’ve mattered to you, it would’ve mattered to me. I may be a lot of things, but I’m not that kind of girl.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter and his condescending air pulled her nerves tight. “You know what Sam Conrad told me the other day, Jenn?”

Like it mattered. He couldn’t tell her anything she hadn’t already figured out herself. Did he think she was a complete idiot?

Of course, he did. She’d put up with his bullshit for years.

“He told me that your boy can’t deploy with the rest of his unit because he didn’t pass his psych assessment. I’m guessing he forgot to mention that.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Reed chuckled. “Ah, he didn’t tell you, did he? I mean, it makes sense. A dude admitting he’s a nutcase probably puts one hell of a hurtin’ on the amount of pussy he gets.”

Crack! Reed’s face jerked to the side at the same time the skin on Jenny’s palm began to sting. “Don’t you dare talk about him that like.”

Reed rubbed his hand over the red mark on his cheek and slowly met her gaze. Stormy emotion rolled into his dark eyes and, for a long moment, he said nothing, just pinned her with a glower that was more disappointed than it was angry.

“Excuse me for thinking you ought to know what you’re getting yourself into,” he said sharply. “For not wanting you to get hurt.”

“Damn ironic, no?” She made to step around him, so she could gather her purse and get the hell out of there, but he stood and blocked her path.

“I didn’t know you felt...things until it was too late. Do you honestly think I would’ve kept seeing you if I’d known you wanted more?”

She made a wry sound low in her throat and glared at the door behind him. She couldn’t look him in the eye. It was too damn humiliating. “None of that matters now. We’ve both moved on. We’ve—”

“Dammit, Jenny, I’m not trying to be an asshole here.” He reached out for her arm, but she backed away and wrapped her arms around herself. “Whether or not you want to believe it, I fucking care about you. We’ve been friends for a long damn time and no matter what happened between us, nothing will change that.”

In her heart of hearts, she knew that. But he didn’t know Brody. Maybe she didn’t know all she needed to know either, but she knew what was most important—he was a good person and he accepted her just the way she was, flaws and uncertainties alike. If he had a mental health problem he was hiding from her, there was probably a reason for it. She refused to think he might be dangerous or volatile, though, when he’d shown her nothing but tenderness and compassion.

“Not that my personal life is any of your business, but you’re getting ahead of yourself,” she snapped. “Brody and I aren’t together, nor are we going to be. I guess you could say I’m a little gun-shy these days.”

Reed’s jaw tightened, even as his dark eyes softened. “Don’t get caught up in something you can’t handle, princess.”

She lifted her chin and met his gaze. “I was half in love with a man I could never have for more than ten years. I think I can handle a long-distance friendship just fine.”

“Jenn...” He stepped forward, regret lining his face. She shook her head and held up a single, determined finger.

“Back off, Reed. I’m begging you...back off.” She had no idea what, if anything, would come with her and Brody, but she was absolutely certain of one thing—she was going into whatever this was more aware of herself than she’d ever been. Reed might’ve robbed her self-confidence, but she knew what she wanted now. She knew what she deserved. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to be afraid of going after it.

***

“It’s late, boy. Thought maybe you’d found a barstool instead.”

Though Brody had a key, his Grandpa Brekowski met him at the door dressed in a plaid bathrobe and house slippers. His thick gray hair stood up on one side of his head while the rest lay plastered down. His top partial seemed to have gone MIA.

“Nah, no bar for me tonight,” he slurred, thinking about the twelve-pack he’d polished off since leaving Omaha. Plus the few beers he’d had in River Bend...

“Uh huh.” Gramps stood aside as Brody hefted his duffle bag onto a kitchen chair and took inventory of the home that had been his for the first few years of his life as well, while his parents finished school and got their shit together. Not much had changed in the little three-bedroom bungalow, except Granny’s never-ending collection of cat knick-knacks. Cats playing with yarn, cats in a bubble bath, cats in shoes...the shit was everywhere.

“Granny sleeping?” He squinted at the clock on the stove while he unlaced and then toed off his boots. Almost eleven o’clock. “Damn, I didn’t realize it was so late.”

“Eh, I didn’t expect you any earlier. Figured you’d wanna make a drive-by in River Bend to see your old chums.” His grandpa clapped him on the back as he headed for the coffee pot. The full coffee pot. “Wanna cup?”

“Uh...sure.” What he really wanted was to pass out on the couch and dream about Jenny, but he knew what his Gramps was doing. He did it every time he showed up late like this. Or more to point...late and half in the friggin’ bag.

An hour, two cups, and a debate about this year’s MLB prospects, Gramps must’ve finally decided Brody had sobered up enough that he wouldn’t shake the shingles off the roof with his snoring, because he stood and yawned.

“You remember where the blankets are, kid?”

“Front closet. Top shelf.”

Gramps gave him a thumbs up and headed for the back hall. “Get a good night’s sleep, huh? I got a list a mile long for you work on in the morning.”

Brody grinned. “Granny got hers together, too?”

“You know it.”

“Good.” He chuckled and watched the old man shuffle down the hall. When the door closed behind him, Brody sighed and scratched a hand over his head. Since he couldn’t deploy, he might as well plan on spending all his free time in North Platte. His grandparents weren’t getting any younger and their lists for him got longer each time he came. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he’d be able to see Jenny more often, too.

After he gathered the blankets and settled in on the couch, he let himself look at his phone. On the drive over, he’d had to put the damn thing in the glove compartment so he’d keep from checking it every five seconds to see if she’d texted him back.

And she had.

His message from earlier: FYI, you taste just as sweet as I expected. I want more.

Her response: You can have as many kisses as you want. Are you strong enough to stop there?

Probably not, but for her, he’d try.

Instead of waking her up with a response, he tossed the phone onto the end table beside one of those damned porcelain cats and slid beneath the blankets. Her face, surrounded by all that ridiculous fur, came to mind and, like he’d done so often since Vegas, he started at the top and slowly made his way down, replaying every little detail. Her dark, glossy hair, not quite as dark as it had been the first time he’d noticed her a few years back, but prettier this way. More natural. Her brow, too tense most of the time. Too etched with harried thoughts and uncertainty that he wanted to smooth away. Her eyes, God, those deep, soulful, dark brown eyes. They gave away so much of her emotion and he doubted she even knew it.

Somewhere between her fairy nose and her soft lips—he’d verified that tonight—he must’ve fallen asleep. He knew this because he woke up in a cold sweat, with his heart racing. Ernie and Troy had come to him again, this time walking ahead of their hummer and the supplies they carried into the village. A village they were supposed to build up and help, not fucking die in.

He called out to his buddies—tried to scream—because he knew what happened next. He knew that the second their truck crossed the plane of that dilapidated, broken down shack, the bomb would blow.

Despite his warning, his buddies didn’t stop, and Brody woke up when the blade of shrapnel plunged into Ernie’s chest.

“Motherfucker,” he huffed out, his voice shaking as badly as the rest of his body. He pounded a fist into the cushion beneath him, instantaneous rage snapping inside of him. When was this shit going to end? What the hell did he have to do?

Swinging his legs over the side of the couch, he sat up and pushed a hand back over his hair. The little pendulum clock on the mantle glinted against the moonlight streaming in through the window, and he squinted through the darkness to see it. Four in the morning? Thank God. Only two hours until daylight.

Not that it mattered, because two or ten, he wouldn’t sleep again. Fumbling in the dark, he found his phone on the table and thumbed it awake. Before he could think better of it, he replied to Jenny’s text.

I’m not the man you think I am, but you make me want to be.