by Laura Kaye
She chuckled.
“All right, have a good night, Mike,” Brady said with a wave.
Mike waved back, already unwrapping the sandwich.
Brady grabbed her hand again and led her through the crowd. When they were far enough away from Mike and Goose, she peeked up at him, her chest full of pride. Ridiculous, maybe, since she hardly knew him, but that didn’t stop it from being there. “That was really nice.”
He shrugged. “No sense letting food go to waste.”
“I mean it, Brady. You did a really nice thing.” She squeezed his fingers.
He looked down at the grass, his discomfort with her praise palpable between them.
She knocked her shoulder into his arm. “I might just have to stop calling you ‘sailor boy’ after that.”
He peered down at her. “Really?”
She tapped a finger against her lips. “We’ll see.”
Their need to wind their way through a line of moving cars cut off their conversation, but she could’ve sworn she heard him mumbling something about his balls getting busted and she couldn’t help but chuckle.
They stepped up on the opposite curb and a body crashed into Joss, sending her stumbling. Brady bit out a curse as he caught her and pulled her in against his chest, steadying her. At least, that was his intent. The press of all that hard muscle against the length of her liquefied her insides and melted her knees. She looked up to find a dark scowl on his face at the two teenagers who had run past them. He heaved a breath that was nearly a growl, but his expression eased a little as he met her gaze. “You okay?”
“Yeah, thanks,” she said, hearing the breathlessness of her voice but unable to stop it. Maybe she should’ve been alarmed at the rigid tremble of his muscles and the fierce expression, but all she felt was gratitude for his protectiveness. Given how she grew up, she’d rarely had someone who looked out for her, defended her.
“Come on.” Arm around her shoulders, Brady guided them down the sidewalk, all the while keeping her body tucked tight against his. Her brain said to pull away, that she didn’t know him well enough to allow him to hold her this way, but she couldn’t convince her body to listen. His muscles flexed against her, forcing into her mind’s eye the image of what it would feel like to have all that strength and power moving over her, into her.
What was wrong with her? He’s a freaking stranger! Sorta.
She shivered and felt her nipples press rigid into the soft cups of her bra.
Brady’s hand tightened on her shoulder.
“I’m back there,” she said as they entered the wide gravel parking lot. “In the corner.”
“In the dark spot?” He frowned.
She elbowed him. “Wasn’t dark when I parked, sailor boy.”
“Mm-hmm.” She felt the response rumble from his chest more than she heard it.
Dodging the cars inching toward the exit, she was pleased to see that more than half the cars had already departed the lot. It wouldn’t take as long to get out of here as she feared. Finally, they arrived at her old truck, all she’d been able to afford when she’d started her assistant director job at the center a couple of years ago.
“This is yours?”
“Yeah. Surprised?” The tank of a red pickup wasn’t much to look at, truth be told, but it got around and hauled a ton, which is why she kept it. Came in handy at work all the time.
He rolled his big shoulders, like he was working out a kink. “With you, always.”
She leaned back against the driver’s side door as the cars beside them backed out of their spots. “Is that a bad thing?”
Brady stepped in front of her and pulled the blanket, book, phone, and keys from her hands, then set them on the edge of the truck bed. When his gaze returned to hers, his eyes were filled with heat, wide and penetrating and intense. Erotic tension filled the narrow space between them and made it hard to breathe. His tall, broad body surrounded her and blocked out the rest of the world. All she could see was his open lips and blazing eyes, all she could feel was the quick rise and fall of his chest, and all she knew was the burning desire for something to happen.
He leaned in and his tongue flicked his lip, once, twice.
Her arms froze against her sides. Her hands fisted. Joss’s equilibrium faltered, leaving her body feeling as if she were boneless and floating. Her insides clenched.
He paused a hair’s breadth away from her mouth. His rapid exhales wisped over her lips. “Not a bad thing at all.”
She swallowed hard.
Bad idea. Bad idea. Such a bad idea.
“Oh, God, do it,” she rasped.
Chapter Three
Brady devoured Joss in a way that was too hard and possessive for a first kiss, but he couldn’t stop himself. Aggression still flowed through his blood at the punks who’d nearly knocked her to the ground, and the chemistry between him and this infuriatingly sexy woman was damn near incendiary. If all that wasn’t enough, her pleading words had detonated the last of his self-control, assuming he’d ever had any where she was concerned.
He sucked and nipped at her full lips, plowed his hands through her pinned-up hair, and stepped into her body until there was no space between them, until he could feel her puckered nipples press against his chest. Christ, she was soft and warm. He couldn’t get enough of those sweet mewling noises working their way up her throat, of her traceable curves squirming against him.
This girl was one damn fine distraction. Just what Brady needed.
Grasping her face, he stroked his tongue against her lips, praying for her to open to his exploration. She did, but not in the way he expected. She invaded him, her tongue pushing forward to entwine with his.
Oh, damn. She smelled like peaches and tasted like sin. And there was that piercing, hard and pebbled and slick against the softness of his mouth. Brady had thought he couldn’t get any harder, but the wet slide of that metal ball shot his body into overdrive. He rocked his hips into hers and groaned in victory when she pressed right back and scratched her fingers against his scalp.
Brady was no stranger to women, but this one was full of contradictions that drove him wild. She had a smart mouth and a sharp wit, but blushed in a way that revealed vulnerability. She gave off an untouchable vibe, but jumped into him at the sound of fireworks. With the tattoos, pink highlights, and tongue piercing, she came off as rebellious, but she worked with kids. Joss was like a puzzle with ever-changing pieces, and it threw him off-kilter, made him feel like he was on a collision course he couldn’t avoid and wouldn’t want to anyway. The desperate noises she made, the enthusiastic sway and press of her curves, her futile effort to grasp and tug at his short hair—he’d remember the sound and feel of her for a long time.
She was marking him, as surely as the metal that pierced her tongue and the ink that tattooed her skin marked her.
At the thought, unease flashed through him. There was nothing permanent about what was going on here. And there never would be. He groaned against her skin. For fuck’s sake, throw yourself a pity party later, Scott. He focused on the fact that she was as game as he was to give in to the crazy attraction between them. Icing on his lust cake. That’s what this was about.
Memories like these were good, necessary, because they were all he’d ever let himself have.
He shifted, bringing his leg between hers. Joss whimpered into their kiss as his thigh pressed in tight right where she was eager to have him, judging by the way she ground herself forward against his quad. Damn it all but the heat pouring through that thin skirt was fantastic and infuriating, because he knew it wouldn’t compare to the searing grip of being buried deep inside her.
Needing more of her, he tilted her face back and dragged his lips along the line of her jaw. Remembering how she’d shivered on the blanket, he paused at her ear, nipping and licking, all the while reveling in the rasping breaths she released and the guiding hand she kept on the back of his head.
“Oh, God. What are we—”
“Nothin
g you don’t want,” he whispered into her ear. “You just say the word and I back off.” Even if it would leave him unable to walk.
She rocked her hips into him, creating a maddening friction that made his blood pound through his veins. Continuing on his journey, Brady dragged his tongue down her neck, relishing the salty-sweet taste of her skin. His hands joined in the exploration, cupping the sides of her breasts.
She threw her head back on a gasping moan.
Watching her face closely, he swiped his thumbs over her raised nipples, clearly outlined by her thin shirt.
Joss’s whole body sagged against the door of her truck and her mouth dropped into an erotic oval. Damn, she looked fucking gorgeous against the chrome and glass and faded red steel of the old Ford.
Glancing to his right, Brady surveyed the wide, emptying parking lot. They were alone in this corner now, and the only remaining line of cars snaked closer to the far side, along the street.
God, he really wanted her. He had no idea what she was game for, but he wanted to be so far inside her, all the shit in his head would go away for good. He could just lift her up, work his way under that flimsy skirt, and take her against the truck. It would be so easy. Not that he would actually do that to her. But damn if the urges weren’t kicking him in the ass.
Shoving the tangled thoughts away, he found her neck with his lips again. The little gasp she gave echoed through his body until he was strung tight and aching. Goddammit. When was the last time a woman had thrown his body into this much of a frenzy?
Her hands gripped onto his shoulders. “Brady.”
The low, throaty sound of her voice filled him with satisfaction as he continued to taste her.
“Sailor boy,” she said louder.
He drew back, a retort on the tip of his tongue. He’d make good on his promise to cure her of saying that yet.
“Your place or mine?”
The question froze the words in his mouth and his brain went blank even as his cock strained against his shorts. He blinked and narrowed his gaze, and slid his thumb to rest over the staccato beat of the artery in her neck, assessing her every way he could. “You sure?”
She gave him a wicked grin, though its impact was lessened by her breathlessness. “One-night-only offer. Going, going—”
“Yours.”
She nodded to her truck and gave him a little push. “Get in.”
Brady hauled ass around to the passenger side. He’d pick his truck up at the end of his run tomorrow. She unlocked the door just as he reached for the handle. One night only. This woman was freaking perfect for him. And exactly what he needed right now.
He slid up onto the wide bench seat of the big beast of a truck and pulled the creaky door closed behind him. She fumbled getting the keys into the ignition for a moment, but then the engine came to life on a low rumble. He clicked his seat belt into place, his brain a racing train of mental high fives and erotic plans to show Joss his appreciation for taking him home.
The engine went dead.
His gaze cut to Joss, who sat staring straight ahead, her hand on the key.
“Are you o— Whoa. What—”
Joss shot across the seat at Brady and crawled into his lap, straddling him and grasping for his face. Then she kissed him, lips pulling, tongue probing, hips grinding down against a pronounced bulge.
She never did this. Never. But did she ever need it. And why not? She was single. She was an adult. And, dammit, she wanted him.
Maybe it was seeing Ethan this morning. Or maybe it was the wound Ethan’s new pregnant fiancée reopened. Or maybe it was no more complicated than this man making her want and feel things she’d never felt before. And it didn’t hurt that he wanted her—that was apparent in the urgency of his grip and the rigid hard-on between her legs. She needed that feeling of being wanted, even if it was fleeting, temporary, just for this one night.
All she knew was she couldn’t wait to have him. Didn’t want to.
Brady’s hands stroked over her breasts and she gasped, and then his fingers found the hem of her shirt, her bare stomach.
A red-hot thrill spiraled through her at the skin-on-skin contact, following by a quick niggling thought: You’re doing this here because you’re afraid you’ll get cold feet before you get home. Or he will.
She shoved the thought away and gave in to the heat of his hands palming her breasts over her bra. She spared a glance at the window over his shoulder and found the lot had emptied save for a dark car parked here or there. Though they were in public, they were alone here, sheltered by the dark shadow the building threw.
Brady’s hands withdrew and he grasped hers. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want—”
“Is this too crazy?” Doubt and an old insecurity squeezed her stomach. Want me.
He stroked his knuckles over her cheek. “Only in a good way. I just don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.”
She shrugged, forcing a casualness she didn’t really feel. “I wouldn’t regret you, Brady.”
He tilted his head, appraising her. Something dark passed over his expression, but then Joss squirmed, reminding them both just how close they were. His hands gripped her hips and stilled her movement. “Sweetness, I’ve got only the loosest grip on myself right now.”
Her stomach eased and the nickname further warmed her skin. “Then why are we still talking?” When the concern faded from his gaze and he smiled, she unhooked his seat belt and grabbed for his shirt. “Show me what you have under here, sailor boy.”
His eyes narrowed and filled with hot intent, but he reached over his shoulder and tugged the gray tee off in that sexy one-handed way guys did. Before she could get on with the ogling, he’d grabbed her, kissed the slope of skin where neck turned to shoulder, and then bit her. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to know exactly what he’d done.
She gasped, not from pain, but surprise.
With a possessive grip of his hand, he soothed his thumb over the spot and threw her a cocky smile. “I’ll cure you of that nickname one way or the other.”
No way she was giving up that taunt. His reactions were too freaking priceless. “You’re still talking,” she said breathlessly, dropping her gaze to appreciate the cut ridges of muscle covering his abdomen. If he’d intended the bite as punishment, that wasn’t how her body perceived it if the dampness between her legs was any indication. Her hands gave in to the need to see if all that muscle was as hard as it looked. Yup. Geez.
He crushed his lips to hers. His tongue filled her mouth, plunging, swirling, simulating the movement she yearned to feel elsewhere. “Take your hair down,” he rasped, then dove back into the kiss, stealing her breath, commanding she submit to his desire. Taking orders wasn’t her usual MO, but for him, for this, she’d make an exception. With clumsy fingers she removed the pins and band, dropped them…somewhere. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders.
“Fuck, yeah,” he whispered, his hands gripping the thick strands of hair and forcing her to move how he wanted her to move, stay where he wanted her to stay.
She reached for her shirt and pulled, forcing them to break the kiss. Brady released her hair and grasped her arms before she could remove the cotton completely. “Lean back.” Bracing a hand on the dashboard behind her, Joss obeyed, Brady’s body following. Shirt still raised, his tongue found the line of her bra, traced from one side of her chest to the other, slowly, teasingly, maddeningly. She was trembling now, from the adrenaline of this crazy moment, from the sheer force of her arousal.
“What is this?” he asked, caressing the tattoo covering her heart.
“It’s a sparrow,” she whispered. It had been her first.
“Wish I could see it better.”
Another time. She’d barely restrained herself from saying the words. They wouldn’t have been true anyway, right?
The calloused pads of his fingers played at one bra cup’s edge. He glanced up at her, eyes on fire. She nodded.
He pulle
d the satiny fabric down, exposing her heated flesh to the hot nighttime air. “Perfect,” he murmured against her skin. Kissing and licking around the curves of her breast, he circled her nipple until she thought she might beg him to touch her there. And then he was. Kissing. Flicking. Sucking deep into his mouth. She arched into it and grabbed on hard to the lean muscle of his shoulder.
Crazy, crazy, totally freaking crazy…oh, so damn good.
Brady tugged the other cup out of the way and treated her right breast to the same worshipful attention...
What was it she’d been thinking again?
His tongue demanded she not waste another brain cell trying to remember.
But then he returned the satin cups to cover her. Joss gasped as the form-fitting material pressed against the rigid peaks of her nipples. “What—”
“Shh.” He kissed the corner of her mouth as he settled her shirt into place. “Dammit, Joss, I want to spread you out and explore you all night long. But what I don’t want is for anyone to see you exposed. So, shirt on. Okay?”
Warm pressure filled her chest. There was his protectiveness again. For her. “Okay,” she whispered. She cupped his face, and that pressure expanded when he softly leaned into her right hand. Like she was a sculptor memorizing his form, she slid her hands down his neck to his shoulders. Sheer power thrummed under all that male skin.
She should be scared of him. Of this. Of what they were doing, in her truck of all places. But her brain paraded his treatment of Mike, his protectiveness when the teens knocked into her, his support of her texting Christina, and his insistence about her shirt through her mind’s eye, and she just let go, gave in, gave herself permission to have this.
Her hands traced the chain of his dog tags and skimmed down the taut pads of his pectorals to his stomach. His muscles flinched under the light, teasing touch, and she smiled. Her fingers trailed into the line of brown hair that ran toward his navel and his mouth dropped open. She swirled a design on his skin that made his breath catch. What she wouldn’t do to hear that needful sound from him again and again. Reaching his waistband, she glanced to Brady’s intense, dark eyes, much as he had looked to her before.
