She stared at him, the thump of her heart heavy and slow.
“It matters,” he said. “To me, it matters.”
Had JT broken her heart? “By the time he left, my heart had already healed.” She would have paced the tiny room, but he caught her hand and pulled her into the circle of his arms. “I thought I loved him. He was very good at figuring out how to charm people—like a chameleon. And, boy, could he work a room. People bought in even though JT had no plans to make any of it happen. Things fell apart. He fell apart. Our marriage did, too.” She shook her head. “And once I knew what he was capable of... I knew it was all a lie.”
Brody cleared his throat. “He... Did he hurt you?”
India stared up at his face then. She’d never told anyone what had happened between her and JT. It pressed in on her some nights, creeping into her dreams and pulling her from a dead sleep sweating and crying and shaking with fear. Some things changed the way other people would look at her. But not Brody. Maybe telling him would make it easier to bear. “He did. But I made sure he never hurt Cal.”
Brody made an odd noise in the back of his throat but didn’t say a word. He sat on the lumpy, overstuffed couch and pulled her into his lap. She stayed cradled close for a long time, the beat of his heart beneath her ear.
“Brody?” she whispered, hoping she hadn’t made a terrible mistake.
“Give me a minute.” He smoothed the hair from her forehead and pressed a kiss to her temple.
But the silence stretched on until she couldn’t take it. She should have kept her mouth shut, brushed his question aside and kept things light. Maybe there were some things no one wanted to hear. But sitting here in silence wasn’t going to help. So she asked the questions that she’d had since seeing him again. “What about you? You and the girls’ mother.”
“Barbara? We’re good friends. I don’t think either one of us was too heartbroken.” He chuckled, his hold easing slightly. “Guess that means neither of us was fully invested. I get the girls eighty percent of the time—thanks to her career.”
But there was no malice in his voice. That was who Brody was, accepting and honest. He didn’t hold grudges. Or jump to conclusions. He didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. And he was unfailingly loyal.
“Considering how things could have turned out, I’d say I’m lucky,” he murmured.
She didn’t argue, but she knew the truth. Brody’s ex-wife had been the lucky one. She’d had this man’s devotion, his love and their family. She’d let it all go. Brody deserved a woman who’d fight for him and his girls. Someone who’d never let them go.
But tonight, he was hers.
His big hands stroked along her back, up her neck and through her hair. She closed her eyes, reveling in the way he held her—the way he touched her. She shuddered and nuzzled closer to press her lips to his throat. Her lips traveled up his neck, along his jaw, and sucked his earlobe into her mouth, dragging a broken curse from his lips. The taste of him, salt and man and fresh air, was pure intoxication.
Her hands tightened on his shoulders as she moved to kiss him. He groaned against her lips, his hands fisting in the back of her shirt as he crushed her against him. But it wasn’t enough.
* * *
BRODY HAD ALWAYS prided himself on keeping a clear head. But India was challenging that. It wasn’t just her kisses or eager touches, it was her abandon. There was an urgency to her he understood. The pull between them was hot and demanding. And when her lips sealed with his, he was pulled under.
His hands slid beneath her shirt, her skin silk beneath his touch. His fingers ran along her sides, drawing a shudder from her—making her arch into him. Damn but she was soft. And sweet.
Her fingers fell to the buttons on his shirt, freeing the fabric and tugging the shirt wide. She tore her lips from his to look at his chest. But he wasn’t sure what she was thinking, good or bad, until her fingers began a featherlight exploration of his bare skin.
“We had gym together,” she murmured, smiling. “This is all new.”
He chuckled, shrugging out of his shirt and tossing it on the chair across the room. “Guess I was a late bloomer.”
Her eyes met his, blazing—wanting—making his body hard for her.
He reached for her, his hands cradling her face as he kissed her. Softly at first, gently. But that apparently wasn’t enough for India. Her fingers twined into his hair. She arched into him, pressing the swell of her breasts against his chest. She wanted more, and he would give it to her.
He nipped her lower lip, exploring the rounded contour with his tongue and teeth while his hand slid up, brushing between her shoulder blades. A gasp parted her lips and gave his tongue access. The heat of her mouth and sweep of her tongue was the last coherent thought he had. On and on it went, her lips fastened to his. Her hands sliding over his chest so she could wrap her arms around him.
One second she was holding him close, the next she was pushing away—and pulling her shirt up and over her head. He watched, mesmerized by the display before him. A lacy peach bra covered her breasts. The scrap of fabric was more modest than most bikini tops, but it was the sexiest damn thing he’d ever seen in his life.
Made even sexier by how fast she wriggled out of it.
And still, all he could do was stare at the gift she was giving him.
“Damn, Goldilocks. You’re so beautiful.” He ran his fingers along her temple and into her long blond hair.
She smiled, a blush stealing across her cheeks as she leaned into him, the shock of being skin to skin emptying his lungs. And when his hand cradled the full weight of her breast, he was gasping for breath again. She moaned at the brush of his thumb against her nipple. Her eyes fluttered shut when his mouth and tongue explored the sensitive tip. “Brody,” she whispered.
His name from her lips had him aching. He kissed her again, crushing her against him as he lay back against the couch.
“Ow.” She arched up. “Ow,” she repeated.
He pushed off her.
She sat up and pushed on the couch. “Damn spring.”
Damn spring or no, there was no denying he had one hell of a view. She was frowning, breathing heavy, lips swollen from his kisses, with her hair falling around her full breasts.
“You okay?” he asked.
She stood, took his hand and led him into the next room. Her bedroom. She cast a quick glance his way.
“You said you wanted me to hold you, India.” He tilted her head back. “That’s all I want.”
She bit her lip, her gaze sweeping over his chest and face. “It’s not all I want. I mean, I do, want that...but now...” She paused, stepping closer to him. “I’ve never felt this before, Brody. Never ached like this.”
How the hell was he supposed to argue with that? And what the hell sort of man had JT been? India was a passionate woman. She’d come alive under his touch, giving pleasure and taking pure, unfiltered joy in receiving it. That he made her feel something she’d never felt before was a gift he wasn’t going to take for granted. He did that. And they were just getting started.
She shimmied out of her jeans before he realized what she was doing.
He swallowed, studying every inch of her. The swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist. She was beyond imagination. This was the woman he’d always loved. And now she wanted him.
As soon as he’d kicked off his boots, jeans and boxers, he scooped her up and laid her back on the bed. He could have stared at her all night, but she gripped his arms and tugged him down on top of her. The bed squeaked and dipped.
“Careful.” He laughed, bracing himself before he squished her.
She laughed, too, her hands reaching up to cradle his face.
He shook his head, loving her laugh, loving her smile and the spark in her gaze. He bent to kiss her, the fire between them burnin
g bright. He was throbbing with want. And love. Damn but he loved this woman.
“You’re beautiful India,” he whispered.
“So are you.” She smiled as she tugged him down to kiss her. He was happy to oblige. His lips and tongue trailed from her lips to her neck, her neck to her shoulder, and her shoulder to the valley between her breasts. He wanted to take his time and learn every inch of her. But the urgency between them was undeniable. And when he sucked one pebbled nipple into his mouth, her fingertips bit into his hips and pulled him close.
He moaned when her legs parted for him. And when he was buried deep inside her he moaned again. This time, so did she. It was more than he could ever have anticipated. Every thrust was a shock, blindingly hot and intense. Being one, lost in her, felt right.
Her head fell back, a blissful smile on her face, as she held on to him. He watched, marveling at the shift of emotions on her face. She was lost in this—in them. Her hands roamed his body. The rasp of her breath fanned against his chest. She hooked a leg around his waist and arched to meet him. And fell instantly apart. Her cry was soft—almost surprised—as her body tightened around him.
His climax followed hers, sending wave after wave of pure pleasure crashing into him again and again. His moan tore from his throat, stealing all the air in his lungs and leaving him drained.
He was gasping when he opened his eyes to stare down at her.
Her arm was thrown over her eyes, a huge smile on her face.
“All good?” he asked, smiling as her arm moved away and she stared up at him.
“Incredible,” she whispered. “That was...wow. I’ve never... I mean, yes, very good.”
He frowned. “Never what?”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Kiss me.” Her arms twined around his neck.
“I could kiss you all night, Goldilocks,” he whispered, kissing her softly.
Her sigh was so sweet, his heart was happy. He’d done this to her, made her moan with pleasure and sigh with satisfaction. He’d happily do it again. Especially if what she’d almost said meant what he thought it meant. India had never had an orgasm. How was that possible? Tonight had proved how ardent a lover she was. If he hadn’t known her ex-husband was a selfish bastard, this would have told him all he needed to know about the man.
India needed a man who would treat her—mind and body—as the treasure she was. And, damn, but he wanted to be that man.
Chapter Twelve
Indie’s eyes popped open, her cheek on Brody’s chest and her arm draped across his waist. She smiled, stretched and eased closer. As tempting as it was to wake him again, she knew they were playing with fire.
A glance at the clock had her bolting upright.
“Brody.” She shook him.
“India,” he groaned. “A man’s got to sleep.”
She burst out laughing. “No. Not...that. It’s almost five.”
His eyes opened, a slow smile forming. “Five, huh?” He shook his head. “I don’t know if I can move.”
She laughed again. “You better. For your personal safety.” Her smile faded somewhat. Her father could not see him here now—leaving her place. “What were we thinking?” she asked, panic threatening her earlier happiness.
He sat up, cupping her cheek. “I was thinking how damn lucky I am to make you scream my name.”
Her cheeks grew hot. She had, too. With great enthusiasm. He’d loved it. So had she. Her chest grew heavy and her body warmed at the thought. “Stop,” she whispered. “You need to go.”
He grinned. “I do. As tempting as it is to stay here and do it again, I value my life.” He shook his head.
She nodded. “So do I.”
“Good to know you’re not just after my body.” He winked, slipping to the edge of the bed.
Any rational person would be throwing clothes at him and hurrying him along, but...India didn’t move. She was too content to watch him. He had an incredible body—just as she’d suspected. Lean muscles and boundless energy had combined for the most incredible night of her life. And...her first orgasm. Which led to many more.
She smiled.
“What?” he asked, buttoning his jeans.
“Nothing.” She needed to stop smiling.
Hands on hips, brows raised, he waited. “That smile means something.” He grinned. “Something good, I’d think.”
She hugged her knees to her chest and tugged up her sheet.
“You’re going to get modest now?” He shook his head. “I admit, I’m a fan of wild and demanding India—”
“I was not demanding,” she argued, her cheeks hot.
“I hate to argue with you, Goldilocks, but you were.” He leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead. “And I liked it.”
He was right. Last night, she’d been a woman possessed. Something about Brody flipped a switch on her libido. Like now. She grabbed him, rising up on her knees to kiss him.
He moaned, crawling onto the bed to pull her flush against him. “I can stay a little longer.”
As much as she wanted him to stay, right here, in her bed, she knew better. “You have three little girls who expect to see their father when they wake up,” she said between kisses. Her father’s anger she could deal with if she had to, but she wouldn’t keep little girls from their dad. She let go of him, pushing against his chest. “You can’t stay.” She cast one last look at his incredible chest and slid off the other side of the bed. She wrapped the sheet around her and headed into the kitchen to collect his shirt.
He followed, taking his shirt from her and sliding it on. “I’ll see you later on, with Cal? We’ll get his lessons started this afternoon at Click’s place.”
“I’m still not sure that’s a good idea,” she argued.
“You weren’t sure last night was a good idea, either.” He grinned. “It turned out pretty well, I’m thinking.”
How could he do that? Make her cheeks—and her body—burn with a simple grin?
He pulled her into his arms. “Making you come apart for the first time was one of the greatest gifts I’ve been given.” He kissed her. “Glad we didn’t stop at just once, though. You know, practice is always a good thing.”
She was too breathless to argue. There was no point in arguing. He was right. About everything. Instead she kissed him back, breaking off to say, “I’m now a fan of practice.”
He kissed her again. “I’ll make sure we get more practice time, Goldilocks, don’t you worry.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final kiss, she stepped out of his arms. “Now get out of here before my daddy shoots you.”
Brody laughed. “Last night might have been worth it.” He winked and opened the door. But he hesitated on the front porch, shooting her a look she wasn’t prepared for. It wasn’t just attraction in his tawny gaze. No, it was more. It seeped into her slowly and cradled her heart in tenderness. “You’re beautiful.”
She leaned against the porch railing and watched him drive away. Even after he was gone, she stood, watching the sun break over the horizon.
The enormity of last night hit her. She had slept with Brody Wallace. She closed her eyes, flashes of their night together warming her through and through. She’d loved every minute of their time together. No one had ever treated her like that—like her pleasure mattered. Like he was honored to be with her.
Now that he was gone, there was nothing to chase away the fear and panic that clawed its way from her stomach to her throat.
Yes, there would be hell to pay if people found out. But...that wasn’t it. There was this very real, very intense, very undeniable sense that Brody hadn’t just introduced her to pleasure. He might have introduced her to something so much more...
* * *
“CAL AND TANNER?” Amberleigh said as soon as Brody opened his eyes.
“What?�
� he asked, peering at the clock on his bedside table. It was six thirty. He’d driven home, taken a shower, fallen into bed, and thirty minutes later all three of his girls had climbed into bed to stare at him. Today was going to be rough. But damn it was worth it.
“Tanner okay?” Suellen asked.
“Go see him?” Marilyn asked.
He yawned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Not today, girls. Tanner probably won’t be going home for a bit. And then he’ll need lots of rest.” Not three rambunctious toddlers nursing him back to health.
Three identical frowns creased his daughters’ faces.
He flopped back on the pillows. “Maybe later.”
He dozed while they played princess ponies in his bed. But once Amberleigh declared she was hungry, he knew it was time to get up.
“Pancakes? After you get dressed,” he said, shooing them from his room long enough to get dressed himself.
His mother was already in the kitchen. “Good morning,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek. “You sleep well? You came in late.” Her voice lowered, but he heard her say, “Or, should I say, early?” And, judging from the look she shot him, she wasn’t happy about it.
“I think I’m a little old for you to be keeping tabs on me, Mom.” He smiled at her.
“You’ll always be my boy, Brody. As long as you’re under this roof, I’ll be keeping tabs on you.” She shook her head. “I was thinking about India Boone and her boy, Cal.”
Brody stopped assembling cups with screw-on lids and straws and looked at his mother. He knew she’d followed India into the bathroom at the Soda Shop—he was glad she had. His mother was good at saying, or not saying, what needed to be said. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was getting at something. “What about them?”
“You should invite them to the girls’ birthday party,” she said. “The girls adore him. And, I think, she’s fond of you and the girls. And, maybe, you’re fond of her...them?”
He saw her quick look his way but didn’t quite know what to make of it.
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