Текст книги "Can't Resist Him"
Автор книги: Molly McLain
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Chapter Ten
Two weeks later...
“Shut the hell up, you stupid GPS!” Jenny yanked the device off the windshield and tossed it into the backseat. She’d been around the same block five times and if she had to hear that lady’s monotone voice tell her she’d reached her destination at a potted plant on the sidewalk one more time, she was gonna lose her shit.
Ugh. Maybe this was a sign. Maybe she should’ve hopped on the interstate right after her conference and headed straight home. It was Saturday night, after all. Brody might not even be home.
Then again, he might. And she was already in Omaha. It would be rude not to try and find him, even if just to say hello.
She pulled her car into an empty elementary school parking lot and double-checked the address Tony had texted her earlier. 11089 Porter St. Last house on the left.
Well, this was a cul-de-sac, not to mention one in the early stages of development, because there were only two houses on the whole street, neither of which sat to the left.
Are you sure this is the address? There’s nothing here, she texted back.
That’s what I’ve got in my phone. Let me text him quick.
“No! Tony!” Gah, she probably looked like a crazy person, hollering at herself in a parked car and thumbing frantically on her phone. Don’t do that! Crap, crap, crap. Unless she wanted to look like a crazy stalker lady, there was only one other way to handle this. I’ll just call him myself. Thank you for getting me this far.
No problem. Have fun. ;)
God. A Starbucks smoothie said her lame GPS would get her back to the freeway just fine. Only then she’d be pissed at herself for giving up so easily.
Nibbling on her lip, she pulled up Brody’s number and took a few deep breaths before she hit the little green phone icon. He was probably out. Maybe even with someone else.
“Hey, pretty girl,” his voice crooned through the line and all her fear morphed into nervous excitement.
“Hey yourself. Am I pulling you away from anything?” She strained to decipher the noise in the background. A TV and maybe a couple of masculine voices?
“Just watching the Royals game with Sam and Ty. Why? Something up? You sound stressed.” A door closed in the background, shutting out the muffled sounds.
“No, no. Not at all.” Liar. Just say it. Tell him you’re in town. “I’m just...I’m actually in Omaha. I had a cosmetology conference today and I figured it’d be impolite not to let you know.” Get to the point, Jenn. You’re not a teenager. “In case maybe you had some time to meet up or something.”
“Aaw, sugar, you should’ve told me earlier,” he sighed and she instantly felt like an idiot. Of course, she should’ve given him some notice, instead of thinking it’d be cute to surprise him. One date did not equal dating.
“Yeah, probably. Anyway, it’s no big deal. Maybe next time. I’ll just grab some caffeine and head home. It’s a great night for a drive, by the way. All that wind blowing through my hair...” God help me and my lame babbling.
“Wait, no. Don’t go home. I just meant if you would’ve told me, I wouldn’t have invited the guys over.” He blew out a breath and it crackled the line. “Look, I want to see you. Like...I really want to see you. I might even be half hard already. But I can’t boot them out in the first inning.” He gave another contemplative exhale. “What do you think about coming over and waiting them out?”
Anything that involved touching him again sounded just about perfect. “Are your friends going to give me crap?”
“You? No. Me? Hell yes. From now until the end of time,” he chuckled. “Are you driving or can you write down the address?”
“Uh, yeah, hold on.” She reached into the backseat for the GPS and thumbed back to the home screen. “Ready.”
“11089 Potter St. Last house on the left. The driveway’s full of Silverados. You can’t miss it.”
Potter, not Porter. Gah. She cursed Tony in her head and hit start on the device. “According to Garmin, I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”
He laughed. “Better put you Chapstick on, sugar.”
***
With Sam and Ty camped out on his couch in the basement, Brody sprinted around the upper level of his consummate bachelor pad, picking up the week’s worth of shit he’d left out. Socks, shoes, and all fifteen thousand controllers for the Xbox...even a half-eaten to-go pizza from...what day was that again?
Ducking out the backdoor with an armful of empty beer bottles, he heard the neighbor’s dog start barking out in the front and he spun around so fast from the recycling bins that he nearly clocked his face on the door, hurrying back inside.
First thing on Monday’s to-do list: Hire a cleaning lady in case Jenny had more of these impromptu visits up her sleeve.
He met her at the front door, a grin on his face that probably made him look like a randy teenager. “Fuck, you look amazing. Hurry up, get in here.”
She laughed as she maneuvered around piles of slushy, melting snow. “I’m trying, I’m trying!”
“God, woman,” he growled when she got close enough for him to grab and pull in tight. She’d swapped out her fluffy parka for a white fleece number that significantly reduced the amount of fabric between her tits and his chest. His cock took notice. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmured against her neck. “Best part of my entire week.”
“Mine, too.” Her fingers slid up into his hair as she wiggled closer, and he shivered. More of that, please. “But I have a confession to make.”
“What’s that?” he asked between stealing kisses and ridding her of her jacket.
“I’ve actually been driving around for an hour trying to find you. Tony gave me the wrong address.” She bit at her lip and made the most adorably uncertain face ever. “I wanted to surprise you.”
Well, hell. Words couldn’t do justice to how friggin’ elated that made him. Women had shown up on his doorstep lots of times, flaunting their proverbial trench coat and batting their fuck-me eyes, but not one—not a single goddamn one—had ever shown up late on a Saturday afternoon just because she wanted to see him.
Inch by inch, he backed her toward the wall in his hallway. When her shoulders hit the dark red paint, she gasped and he took great pleasure in covering her sweet lips with his...in swallowing that breathy sound and letting it seep deep into his lungs.
Her hair felt like ribbons of satin between his fingers and her heat like a fire in the middle of a cold, barren Afghani desert. He couldn’t get close enough, needed more of her all around him. And she gave him just that, pushing up onto her toes, so she could fold her arms around his neck and eliminate every possible space between them. All the while, she fed his soul with wet, addictive kisses that soothed him from the inside out. A high like he hadn’t experience in too damn long built fast and heady, better by a million than any whiskey-induced buzz could have ever been.
“I like surprises,” he muttered against her mouth. “Especially when they taste like sugar.”
She laughed and the lush, full-bodied sound echoed off his walls, spilling a little of her essence into his home. He wanted more of that laughter...wanted her to fill up every bit of his space with all the parts of herself she was willing to share. She was the comfort in his otherwise chaotic world. His peace of mind when his head filled up with so much shit, he couldn’t think. And by some strange, nonsensical twist of fate, he suspected he gave her something similar in return.
“We good now?” he asked, slowly and regretfully loosening his hold on her before he got greedy and pushed past her boundaries.
She nodded. “I think so. Though, we might want to double check a little later.”
From deeper inside the house, someone coughed. “Sounds good to me. You two bring the heavy breathing and roaming hands, I’ll bring the popcorn.”
Fucking Sam. “Really, man?”
“Dude...” His buddy took the final couple steps to the top of the basement stairs, situated between the front hall and the living room. “You’ve been up here for twenty minutes. I thought maybe you had an aneurysm choking it off in the bathroom or something.”
Jenny giggled and, to his disappointment, shimmied out of his arms. “You must be Sam,” she said, offering the asshole her hand. “I’m Jenny Riley. I’ve seen you in River Bend before, right?”
“Not I, ma’ lady.” He bowed his head with a flourish and kissed her knuckles. “You’re probably thinking about the guy who walked around the pub with his wanger hanging out. That was most definitely not me.”
Brody snorted. “Get your skeevy lips off my girl and grab the rest of the beer from the fridge, will ya?”
Walking backwards into the kitchen, Sam threw a single-finger salute and Jenny laughed again.
“I totally remember that night. I wish I didn’t, but unfortunately that’s not something you really forget.”
“Don’t worry—he only whips it out when he’s got at least a dozen spectators.”
“So we’re good as long as no one else comes over. Whew!” She winked and he tangled his fingers with hers, nodding toward the basement and the den-turned-man cave. “Ready for a little therapy a la the Kansas City Royals?”
She winked. “You mean therapy a la Alex.”
Kissed like an angel and a Gordon fan? Ah, hell.
***
Watching men interact with one another in their natural element was almost as entertaining as a Will Ferrell movie. Come to think of it, it was like Stepbrothers come to life, in Brody’s suburban Nebraska rec room.
While Brody tried to be conscious of her presence, shooting her apologetic faces from time to time, the effort was lost on Sam and Ty’s unbarred behavior. Farts, burps, talk about sports, and, of course, a very colored discussion about which combination of Victoria’s Secret models they’d most like to take on for a three-way.
By the time the game ended—and the Royals won their spring training opener—she felt like she needed a shower...and maybe a trip to the confessional.
“Hopefully we haven’t made you second-guess what you’re doing with Nelson,” Ty said as he stood in the front hallway, saying his goodbyes.
Jenny shot Brody a contemplative look. “Hmm, now that you’ve mentioned it...”
Sam chuckled, coming from the bathroom with his arms above his head, stretching. “So all the work I put into strategically hiding that camera in the shower was for nothing? Dammit all to hell.”
Brody grinned, the knowing twinkle in his eyes stirring a guilty ache in her stomach. His friends thought they were sleeping together. They probably even thought that the lock would flip as soon as they left, so she and Brody could pick up where they left off earlier.
Only, the two of them knew that wasn’t the case. At least...she hoped they were on the same page.
Then again, she was at his house on a Saturday evening, a solid four hours from home.
The guys gone, she turned a sheepish smile his way, completely unsure where they went from here. Did she play it safe and say goodbye, too? God, she didn’t want to. But if she stayed, he might...expect things.
More crappy planning, Jenn. Way to work it.
“Come here and tell me why you look like you’re ready to bolt.” From his perch on back of the couch, he crooked a finger at her and her heart began to pound like a freight train in her chest. She’d totally screwed this up, hadn’t she? “I hope it’s not because they’re disgusting pigs.”
“No.” She bit her lip and shook her head. “I grew up with the River Bend boys. I’m pretty acclimated to the locker room talk.”
He pushed off the sofa smiling softly and came to her instead, one slow, sock-clad foot at a time, hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. There wasn’t a thing she could do to hide the panic she was sure he could see in her eyes. “I’m not going to pounce on you, sugar. At least not unless you ask.”
“I’m not worried about that.” Mostly. “I just...I was so excited to see you that I didn’t think this through. I’m not ready to go, but I’m not sure you want me to stay either. If you do...” She paused to swallow. “And I stay, it’s either going to be a late night driving home or...”
“Or what?” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip, so at ease while she stood in his arms, twitching like a live wire. “You spend the night so I don’t have to worry about you traveling this time?”
“Brody...” Laughing softly, she put her hands to his chest, fingers splayed wide over the solid wall of muscle filling out his t-shirt. “What are we doing? Is this...anything? Are we, like, seeing each other or is this something else altogether?”
His thumb rose to her cheekbone, his touch just as gentle. “Define something else.”
Say it. You’re a grown woman, not a naive virgin. “Sex. Are we just building up to sex?”
His gaze flicked to hers and his jaw ticked beneath his stubble. “Not gonna lie—I hope we get naked at some point soon. Hell, I’ve been walking around for weeks with a perpetual hard-on, just thinking about how good it’s gonna feel to finally be inside you.” His hand stilled and he sighed. “But I’m a little out of my element with the rest of this. This seeing each other stuff. I don’t date, Jenn. I haven’t in years.”
“Oh.” So the afternoon of fishing...that was just two friends hanging out. Not any different than this afternoon with Sam and Ty. “I’m glad we cleared that up.” I’m probably going to cry the second I’m alone, but hey, now I know.
“Me, too. I should’ve said something sooner, so you’d understand why I’m pretty much a fuck-up at this dating thing, but the truth is...I can’t stop thinking about you. Then you called...” He gave his head a shake and he reminded her of the first boy who’d picked her at the front door. Nervous and determined at the same time. “I know you live on the other side of the state and the technical shit is gonna be hard to work out, but I don’t want this to be the only time you drop in. I kinda like how you look in my space.”
Wait... “What? But you just said...” she fumbled, hope rising through her only-moments-old disappointment.
“Let’s give this dating thing a shot.” He flashed a smile...and then quickly frowned, self-consciousness flaring once again. “I mean, if that’s what you want. Maybe I’m making assumptions—”
Umph! She jumped up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his hips.
“Assume away, Superman.”
Chapter Eleven
“Are you sure about this? We could hit Midtown in ten minutes and have someone else do the cooking for us. Clean up, too.” Brody glanced reluctantly at the grocery store, closing the passenger door of his truck after Jenny slid out.
“I’m positive. Besides, this is way more fun.” She tangled her hand with his and tugged him toward the store. “Trust me, okay?”
“That’s usually my line.”
She stuck her tongue out over her shoulder and he had to practically sprint to keep up with her as she grabbed a cart and sped around the eerily quiet store like Danica Patrick on a NASCAR track. He usually did his shopping right after work, so this nighttime endeavor—with her—was doubly strange. And oddly comfortable.
Jenny tossed in way more leafy green vegetables than he’d eaten in the last month, maybe two, and he got a little nervous. Until she added not one, but two thick, juicy steaks...and a bottle of red wine. Definitely his kind of woman.
“How about dessert?” She stared at the long row of baking supplies, tapping a finger against her lip, like she was serious. Then he realized she was.
“You’re going to bake?” In his oven? Hell, did it even work? Were there dirty dishes tucked inside it? He couldn’t remember...
“I love to bake,” she sighed, pulling a box of brownie mix from the shelf. “And just for the record, this doesn’t count. This boxed stuff is cheating, but we don’t have time for scratch baked goods, so we’ll have to compromise.” Into the cart the box went. Followed by a small container of oil. “Just need some eggs and ice cream.”
Now that was more his speed. Taking control of the cart, he led her toward the dairy section and then the frozen foods. Only to freeze in his tracks when he rounded the corner and saw Ernie Martin’s eyes staring back at him.
“Corporal Nelson,” the older man smiled and all Brody could see was the man sitting amidst the crowd of funeral goers, his wife in tears beside him, as they prepared to bury their son. Twenty-one guns, silver stars...a flag that should’ve been on a shelf somewhere, not clutched Mrs. Martin’s hands.
“Mr. Martin. Sir.” Brody held out his hand and, damn, if the fucking thing didn’t already shake.
“Ernie. Please.” The older man held on longer than was customary, and Brody’s gut went from hungry to full on nauseous in seconds. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like I’m a goddamn hero. I failed you, remember? I fucking failed. “Susan and I were just talking about you and Sam the other day.”
“Why was that, sir?” Brody clenched his teeth and his jaw popped, sharp pain shooting through his face and down his neck. So he ground harder, hoping for a little more of that temporary release.
“Just wondering how you were doing. Seems you dropped off the face of the earth after you brought our boy home.”
Fuck. How could this man stand there, making small talk in the middle of the friggin’ grocery store about one of the worst days of Brody’s life? Probably the worst day ever for the Martins.
“Doing fine, sir. Working, mostly.” Please, God, just end this now. Please...
“Does this beautiful young lady belong to you?” Ernie Sr. tipped his head to the side, looking around Brody with a curious grin on his face.
Shit. Jenny. Who probably wondered what the hell this was all about.
“I’m Jenny, Brody’s friend.” She took the man’s hand between both of hers. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Martin.”
Dammit. She paid way too much attention.
“Ah, thank you, my dear, but that’s the nature of living a military life, isn’t it? Damn proud of what my boy did. Ain’t no sadness in that.”
Except that the Martin’s would never have grandchildren now. They’d never see Ernie get married. They’d never see Ernie have an actual girlfriend either.
And that felt like a slap across the face all its own. What the hell was he doing, thinking he deserved Jenny in his life? How fucking unfair was it that he got to meet someone who wanted to feed him vegetables and bake him goddamn brownies while his buddy lay six feet under?
“I’m proud of you, son,” the older man said, shifting his watery-eyed focus back to Brody. “You deserve to be happy. You know that, right?”
No. No, no, no. Not this. Not now. Not ever.
“Look, Mr. Martin, we’ve gotta get going. It’s getting late and...” There’s this food to cook that I suddenly have no appetite for.
“Sure thing. It was nice to meet you, Jenny. Take good care this boy, you hear?”
Jenny curled into Brody’s side and squeezed. No way could she not feel him shaking. “I intend to,” she said sweetly and another surge of guilt rocked his conscience.
He needed to tell her the truth. It couldn’t wait any longer.
***
“I’m gonna grab a shower.” Brody dropped the grocery bags on the kitchen island and rubbed a hand around the back of his neck. He’d been distracted ever since the run-in with Ernie’s father and, frankly, it scared the crap out of her. She knew enough about what had happened to put the pieces of the puzzle together. Add in the remark Reed had made about Brody not passing his evaluation and it was clear there was more to the story than Brody had originally let on.
“Okay.” She smiled softly and began taking the food from the plastic bags. “If you don’t mind me poking around for pans, I’ll start cooking.”
He nodded, his dark green eyes distant and his brow pinched. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” He turned on his heel without saying anything more and, a few seconds later, what she assumed was his bedroom door closed with a loud thud. Not quite a slam, but with enough force that she second-guessed whether or not she should stay. Then again, he hadn’t asked her to go either.
She worked quickly and found the pans she needed to sauté the greens, sear the steaks, and roast the potatoes. While the potatoes did their thing, she mixed the brownie batter and got it ready to bake while they tackled the main meal. By the time Brody returned, dressed in a pair of baggy jogging pants and a threadbare Royals t-shirt, she had the meat just about finished. He still looked tense, but somewhat less so.
“Damn, you don’t mess around when it comes to cooking, do you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow as he lifted the cover on the greens and wrinkled his nose. “I haven’t eaten those since I was small enough for my mother to force them into my mouth.”
“Ha. I can’t imagine that.” Jenny smiled, grateful that some of the tension seemed to have faded.
“You don’t know my mother then. She’s little but fierce.”
“Oh, I believe it. I have one of those, too. I just can’t imagine you ever being small enough for anyone to man-handle.” She tossed a flirty smile over her shoulder, tongs in hand for the meat.
“What are you saying, I’m a brute?” He jerked in his chin in, but it was hard to take his offense seriously when he also puffed his chest and flexed his biceps. Biceps that stretched the worn sleeves of the older shirt, they were so massive.
Holy hot flash.
“More or less,” she teased and he grunted, proving her point. “Do you mind grabbing the plates?”
Bruised ego forgotten, he got busy, rummaging around the kitchen and gathering everything they needed. “Since I’m such an animal, you won’t be surprised when I suggest we eat in front of the TV, right?” He lingered nearby again, this time at her back with his chin on her shoulder and his hands gentle at her hips.
She smiled, both at his sarcasm, as well as how good it felt—how right—to be doing something as simple as cooking a meal for him. Butterflies stirred in belly and she bit her lip. She’d never cooked for Reed. Or the last handful of guys that had come in and out of her life either. She knew better than to question if her lack of considerate gestures was perhaps part of the reason none had stuck around. She’d been plenty considerate—heck, she’d been more than accommodating—the men were just selfish.
Until Brody.
“In front of the TV is fine. So you don’t cook, then?” Derail those warm and fuzzies or you’ll get hurt again!
“Confession?” He brushed her hair to the side, baring her neck so he could nuzzle his lips behind her ear. “Besides grilling shit, I’m clueless. My mom’s the type that got pissed whenever someone wandered into her space.”
Shivering at the contrast of his hot mouth and the cool air, she gripped the counter with her free hand and gave into the moan of desire that rose from her chest. “If your father did this to her, I can see why.”
He chuckled lowly, his hands sliding across her abdomen, holding her tight. All the while, his mouth and tongue continued their taunting assault on her neck. The rough scrape of his stubble should’ve hurt, but instead, every scratch felt like a hundred little zaps of aroused current, hot-wiring the nerves that ran between where he touched her and her needy, neglected sex.
“I think the steak is done,” she murmured, relieved and regretful at the same time. “Hand me a plate?”
He did, but his knowing eyes sparkled down at her the whole time. That was okay, because she saw right through him, too. He thought turning her on would make her less likely to push for more about what happened at the grocery store. And maybe he was right.
She popped the pan of brownie batter into the oven and they carried their plates and drinks to the living room. Brody took one end of the couch and, hoping for space to get herself together, she took the other.
“You do realize that keeping your distance right now is pointless, don’t you?” He set his beer on the coffee table beside her glass of wine.
“I’m trying not to think about that.” That being the fact it was now after nine o’clock and the chances of her going home tonight were slim to none. She would spend the night and they both knew it. Whether she slept on the couch or shared his bed, however, still lingered, undecided, in the back of her mind.
“Did I mention the whirlpool tub in the master bath?” He stuffed a big bite of meat into his mouth and waggled his eyebrows.
Suddenly, her body ached in places she didn’t know existed...and others she’d tried to ignore. Damn him!
“I suppose you could give me a tour after we eat.” She readied a forkful of greens and sighed when the buttery goodness hit her tongue.
His focus dropped to her mouth as she chewed, so she took another bite and let her eyes flutter shut, like she was devouring a delicacy. Mostly she just wanted him to eat his, too, but part of her also like driving him insane. Maybe this game of distraction could go both ways.
“You trying make a liar out of me, sugar?”
“What do you mean?” Batting her eyes at him, she moved onto her potatoes.
“Or maybe you’re just trying to test my nobility.” Another bite of steak. “I know you’re not trying to seduce me into eating this pile of green stuff.”
“The green stuff is good for you.”
“So are you.”
Ha! Barely containing her defensive laugh, she smiled and reached for her wine. “Who’s trying to seduce who now?”
“Hey, I don’t go around saying shit like that to just anyone, so don’t try and sweep it under the rug because it makes you uncomfortable.”
“I’m not. I wasn’t—”
“Yes, sugar, that’s exactly what you’re doing.” He got up and plopped down on the cushion beside her, giving her literally no room to try and avoid the conversation. “Not enough guys have told you how friggin’ special you are and you don’t know how to deal with someone finally recognizing it.”
Crap. He was totally right and that made it a little hard to breathe, let alone think straight. What did a girl who couldn’t remember the last time a guy had made her feel like she had value beyond the bedroom do with a statement like that? What did it even mean?
“I’m not going to pretend I’ve always been the kind of guy who knows what needs to be said, because I’m not. Hell, I’m not any different than the assholes who’ve used and abused you before. I’ve done a lot of stupid shit and fucked with the heads of a lot of perfectly nice girls. But you’re different for me, and that makes me want to be different for you, too.”
“Brody...” God, she wanted that, but wasn’t it too soon? In fact, she’d spent more time thinking about him than actually being with him. She couldn’t get him out of her head and she wanted that to mean something, but it was entirely possible she’d built up a connection with him all because of that first amazing night and the fact that he’d come back. Then again...so had Reed.
“There are some things I need to tell you,” he continued on, the heaviness from before dinner falling over him once again. “Before we go any further with this.”
Ugh. Was this the part where reality came crashing in on her?
“Jenny, stop.” He reached his plate forward onto the coffee table, took hers, and did the same. “I see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours and, if this is going to work, I need you to hear what I’m saying.”
She nodded and prayed he couldn’t feel her fingers tremble when he took her hands in his.
“This isn’t easy for me either. I’m scared as fuck that, any second now, you’re gonna see me for what I really am and high tail it out of here without looking back.”
“I’m not,” she whispered.
“And I hope that’s true, because having you in my life is the best damn thing that’s happened to me.” He lifted the back of her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips across her skin. Goose bumps raced up her arm. “But there are things I need to say that might make you look at me differently. Things I don’t normally talk about.”
“I don’t expect you to be perfect,” she said gently. “I appreciate that you don’t expect me to be either.”
He nodded as the timer for the oven went off. “Let’s grab dessert, clean up, and take this conversation to the whirlpool.”
“Ah, but I didn’t bring a suit.”
“Like that matters? Hell, the more naked you are, the longer it’ll take you to get away. Trust me, I’ve already got this planned out.” He winked and pulled her to feet.
She smiled and let him lead her to the kitchen. Not a single bit of her protested.
