by Taryn Quinn
Feelings like this didn’t come along every day. She’d be damned if she gave them up—gave him up—without a fight. If they imploded, and he and Kim tossed her out on her ear, at least she could say she’d had the best time of her life instead of wondering what if.
What ifs fucking sucked.
She touched his forearm before setting a couple of her girly tissues on the counter. “They’ll hurt your nose less. Trust me.” He didn’t reply, so she gave up and left.
From snot to hot kisses and back again. Such was the nature of their relationship thus far.
She strolled past his men, her smile never wavering. Being open and free had to get easier with practice, right? “Enjoy your lunch, guys.”
Unable to help herself, she glanced back as she pulled the glass door shut behind her. The men stared back. One thing was for sure. They weren’t gazing at her as if they didn’t get why Brad would kiss her. More like they wished they could’ve taken his place.
She grinned and tossed her keys from one hand to the other with a bravado she absolutely did not feel. Now she just had to convince Brad to give them another shot, while simultaneously convincing herself the sky wouldn’t fall if she dared to believe she had a chance at happiness.
And oh, confess to her best friend that she was pretty sure she’d fallen in love with her brother.
All in a day’s work.
Chapter Ten
Brad walked in the door at nine-thirty that night, exhausted, cranky and sore. At least he thought it was nine-thirty. He’d checked his watch a while ago, and the numbers had blurred so much that he’d guessed at the time. Thank God it was Labor Day weekend. If he’d ever needed three days off more, he didn’t remember it.
One more thing he could thank Sara for. She’d infected him with her damn super bug. Forget bug. It was more like a dinosaur, stomping him with ferocious glee.
Even though his stomach had been growling for the last hour, he bypassed the kitchen in favor of dragging himself upstairs. His room. If he could get to his room, he could die in peace.
He’d just managed to strip—minus the one sock that refused to slip off his suddenly unflexible foot—and crawl into his blissfully cool sheets when a knock came at the door.
Fuck, no.
“Leaf me be.” He moaned it into the pillow, as feebly as a drunk. The knocking continued until the door creaked open.
“Brad? It’s me.”
He didn’t know who “me” was, nor could he open his eyes to check. Someone had glued them shut and sealed his lips for good measure. He grunted some combination of words, intent on making “me” go away.
A soft, damp cloth brushed his cheek and he relaxed into the sheets. Nice. If they could spray the rest of him down with about six gallons of ice-cold water, maybe he wouldn’t roast to death in his own bed.
Sleep closed around him, a familiar old friend. One he could count on. One who wouldn’t stiletto his heart into chunks and eat them for breakfast.
His roaring stomach woke him up. He groaned and tried to rise, but gentle hands on his bare chest pushed him back down. “Not yet. You need more rest.”
He knew that voice. “You—you did this. Your fault.”
“I’m sorry. I warned you that you’d get sick.”
“No. You didn’t warn me enough.” He rolled onto his back and opened one eye long enough to glimpse Sara sitting in a folding chair beside his bed, a small booklight attached to the novel in her lap. Reading glasses hovered on the tip of her nose. God, she was so cute, and he wanted her so much. More than he’d ever wanted anything.
“I know you probably don’t care what I’m saying right now, but I’m going to tell Kim about us,” she murmured. “I was going to tell her tonight, but you were a mess when you came home, and I wanted to run it by you first. So I guess I’ll wait until you’re not sick anymore, which means you need to get better fast.”
If she kept talking, he didn’t hear it. “You didn’t stop me.”
She brushed her hand tenderly over the one he’d fisted in the sheets. So soft. Why wouldn’t she get in bed with him? “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you, baby. I went to get you juice and tissues, and there’s—”
“You didn’t stop me,” he insisted through thick and clumsy lips. “You let me fall for you.” He felt rather than saw her reel back. “Why you do that?” he asked, finally managing to open both eyes for a moment.
Her shocked expression in the narrow beam of light from the booklight trailed him into an exhausted sleep.
When he woke again, she was gone and Kim sat in her place, her wrapped ankle propped on the side of his bed. “Easy, tiger,” she admonished as he threw himself onto his side. “Hurt my ankle again, and I’ll give you more to worry about than a stupid cold.”
“Go ‘way.”
“Nope,” she said cheerfully. “I want information. I figure now’s the best time to get it, when you’re passed out and loopy on the cold meds Sara sprinkled in your juice since you’re a giant baby who can’t swallow pills.”
He didn’t remember juice. Had he drunk something? He did feel a little better. On a scale of one to ten, he’d made it to one. Improvement, since he’d been at a solid minus fifteen all day.
“Go ‘way,” he tried again.
“Sorry, not leaving ‘til you tell me what I want to know. I gotta make it quick, since Florence Nightingale ran to the store to get you some kind of chest rub. Which brings me to my first question.” She paused for dramatic effect that was mostly lost on him, due to the ever-present threat of unconsciousness. “What else has my best friend rubbed on you?”
“Huh?”
“Sara. You do remember her, right? She’s small and curvy and wicked smart. You’ve both been acting bizarre this week, which I couldn’t figure out until I saw her creeping out of your room naked this morning. Or yesterday morning now, since it’s Saturday. Then there was that stupid doll in her bed, a move that had your paw prints all over it. You learned that trick from me, though you totally forgot to stick pillows beneath the covers the length of her body. Plus you’re sick, and I’m not. So that makes me think you’ve been swapping spit.”
He grunted. Way too many words. What did they all mean?
“I know you’re sleeping together, I just want you to admit it. No details, mind you. I so don’t need those. But if this place is going to get really sickening now that you two are all lovebuzzy, maybe I should start staying at Greg’s.”
“Greg?” He pressed his face farther into his pillow and smiled dizzily. Sara. He could still smell her vanilla scent on his sheets. “Who’s Greg?”
“Look, snuffles, all I need is a yes or no. And please say yes, because I found something in your bathroom a little while ago that freaked me out and if it’s not Sara’s, well, I don’t want to know. But I may start sleeping in the basement. It was big and blue and fucking ginormous. Dude, does she really use that thing?”
He rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head. “King Kong.” He tried to smile and coughed instead. “Sara likes them big. Now go ‘way.”
Kim barked out a laugh and he winced, dragging his pillow over his ears. Make it stop. “Feel better, bro. Tell your nurse to give you a sponge bath, ‘kay?”
He was snoring before the door closed.
For more than two straight days, he slept. Sara had never heard anyone sleep that loudly. She figured it was probably a good thing she’d fallen for him before she’d learned he sawed them off, since it was kind of a mood killer.
Early on Labor Day, so early that the first hints of sunlight had begun to creep into Brad’s room, she crawled close to his back. She slid her arm around his waist, fully expecting him to shake her off as he had every other time she’d tried that move. She’d gotten in bed with him Saturday night once Kim had gone to sleep, and again last night when she’d left for Greg’s, and he’d been restless the whole time. The guy hadn’t stopped thrashing, even while unconscious. His fever had finally broken in the middl
e of the night. Since then he’d been more settled.
Sheesh, if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve believed he had malaria or something other than a simple flu bug. Kim chalked it up to men being gigantic babies. After seeing her big, strong guy totally felled by a cold, she was inclined to agree.
Sara cuddled closer and sighed. Oversized baby or not, he felt so good in her arms. She loved holding him, especially when he was asleep, and she could squeeze him tight without him being any the wiser.
Giving into her urge to explore his flat, ripped torso, she let her fingers wander down to his happy trail. She wouldn’t go any farther. Technically they’d broken up, and she shouldn’t have been in bed with him at all. He probably didn’t even realize she was with him. She sure hadn’t asked if she could grope him while unconscious.
As she pulled away, her hand accidentally brushed his groin. She snatched her arm back, eyes wide. Whoa. Some parts of him woke perkier than others, that was for sure.
“Don’t stop there.”
She blinked at his golden, muscled back. He didn’t so much as twitch. Had he really spoken, or was her tired brain imagining things? She hadn’t been getting a lot of rest while worrying about him—
“There’s a rule in this bed.” While she processed that yes, he was up—and not simply below the waist—and yes, he was speaking, he rolled over and pinned her to the mattress with surprising quickness, considering he’d been moaning and coughing for two days straight. “While in it, you get to touch anything you want.”
She glimpsed the wild blue of his eyes before his mouth landed on hers, tasting of cherry syrup, juice and honey cough drops. An oddly pleasant combination. She started to speak, needing to clarify some things before they jumped into sex again, but he’d already shoved up her flimsy nightgown and growled as he fought down her panties. “Stop wearing these. Slow me down,” he said, ripping them from her body as if they hadn’t cost fifty dollars.
Though really, who cared? She didn’t. Not when a hotter than hell guy was sliding down to fasten his mouth between her legs, something he did with wonderful regularity without her even asking.
Well, except that first time. And okay, the second. Which didn’t even really count, since she’d been high on Nyquil for the first and still sickly for the second. Judging from what Brad was currently doing to her, that stuff was truly a miracle drug.
“You’re sick,” she gasped, rolling her hips into his thorough explorations. He left no millimeter of flesh unexamined. Even so, she still had most of her faculties until he started to tongue-fuck her, and then she didn’t care about anything but getting off.
She’d make it up to him later. Whatever he wanted. A half-dozen blowjobs, a new truck. A half-dozen blowjobs in his new truck. Or on the flatbed, beneath the stars. Maybe even on the hood. Hell, he could take her any-damn-where he felt like.
“You know what I want.” He did that growling thing against her pussy and the rumble reverberated through her lower belly, the vibrations adding one more layer to her excitement. She was trembling and panting and moaning so much that the neighbors would probably hear. He pushed two fingers into her, widening her as her pleasure spiraled higher. Then he thrust deep, brushing her G-spot with each pass while he tongued her clit. “In my mouth. Now. Give it to me.”
Some part of her thought she should resist his demands, lest they set up an impossible precedent. Woe if she got into a pattern where he expected her to come on command, and maybe even slacked off in his efforts to get her there. Better to edge back and play a little hard to get—
He flattened his hand on her torso, holding her still. His tongue took up the battle his fingers had abandoned in favor of keeping her in place while the fingers of his other hand circled the pucker between her ass cheeks. She moaned at the dual sensations, surprised yet again by the wicked thrill of having him penetrate her back there too.
And then the war was over before she’d even launched a suitable defense.
She rocketed upward, her heels bearing down as she ground against his face. He lapped at her, his enjoyment clear from the sounds he made. They were both noisy as hell in bed, and she took a moment to thank God that Kim wasn’t home before she dropped back to the mattress and basked in the afterglow. Nah, not strong enough. Afterblow maybe, because he’d blown her freaking mind.
Again.
“I. Love. Your. Mouth.” Each word was separated by a half breath. Her lungs hadn’t quite started functioning normally yet, and him crawling up the bed to plant his hands on either side of her head didn’t help. Especially when she could look down and see the thick, swollen gift awaiting her between his legs.
He kissed her, his tongue leisurely playing with hers. He knew she liked tasting herself, even without her ever telling him. Sexually they were in perfect sync. Everything else? Working on it.
“Mmm, and I love your pussy. It’s always so quick to welcome me back.”
He caught her giggle against his lips as he grasped her breasts in his palms, caressing them through the nubby cotton nightgown she wore. She arched at the rough pull of his fingers, relaxing into his touch. There was nothing wrong with the world when Brad O’Halloran’s hands were on her body.
Without warning, he tugged her up and splayed her on top of him. “I’m weak and sickly. Isn’t that the line you used?” He bit her earlobe at her laughter. “Think you need to handle things from here on out.”
“Oh, do you now?” She sent her nightgown flying and braced her hands on his rock-hard stomach, using him for leverage to slide up and down. She didn’t take him inside her yet, just teased him with the proof of her excitement. His groan told her what she already knew—she was getting him plenty wet, and he had only himself to thank. “Well, I suppose I can do this for a while.” She bit her lower lip, gyrating on him while heat flared in his eyes. “How’s this?”
Body issues in his presence? Gone. How could she wonder how he viewed her when his gaze practically devoured her, clothed or naked? There was no mistaking the frank appreciation in his expression and in his touch. He wanted her, every bit as much as she wanted him.
Though his gaze burned, he crossed his arms behind his head, clearly intending to make her work for it. And work she would. “Faster,” he gritted out. Just his voice caused her empty pussy to contract. Perhaps this dry—so not dry—humping idea hadn’t been her best. “Make those pretty tits bounce for me.”
Oh God, there he went with the dirty talk. It was like pure ambrosia to her starved senses after years of furtive clinches that consisted of descriptive soundtracks like “ooh, yeah, babe, nice.” With him she could be as naughty as she wanted to be—and she would.
She picked up her pace as requested, one hand traveling between her breasts to plump her nipples the way he liked. The way she liked. She reached back to stroke his cock, its heavy weight against his thigh an irresistible temptation. His eager length pulsed in her grip. Wetness smeared her palm as she pumped him, getting him brutally hard within a few short strokes. Then she went for his balls, toying with them even as she twirled her fingers around her own sensitive nipples.
His chest rose and fell in quick succession, and his lids lowered to half-mast, his beautiful irises partially hidden by his heavy fringe of dark lashes. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and his hips stirred beneath her as if he couldn’t stay still.
“Watch,” she whispered, lifting up and then sinking down to take him into her body. Slow, so slow. Like she was sliding down a mountain. At the base she collided with his groin, and the contact sent her clit into hyperdrive. She gasped at the sudden spasm that gripped her. He broke his casual pose and reached out to grab her hips, anchoring them together while their bodies flexed and separated without her conscious thought.
The gravitational pull of Brad’s magnificent penis had taken over, and all she had to do was ride him for all she was worth.
She twisted her nipples harder, her other hand snaking down to strum her clit. He groaned an
d drove into her, so hard and deep that her back bowed in supplication. Even from below he was controlling things, shoving her to the brink and holding her there. She might’ve been embarrassed by the way her sex clutched at him, so slickly that wet noises accompanied his every retreat and thrust. Might’ve been had his fevered groans not offered distracting background music.
“That’s it. Deep. Deeper. Take me.” Said while he bent her backwards, her hands on his knees the only thing keeping her from flying off the bed. As roughly as he fucked her, he tenderly skimmed his hand over her stomach.
And in his eyes she saw the words they still hadn’t shared, the twin of the emotions that carved through her as cleanly as a blade. Leaving no room for doubts, for anything but him.
With one flick of her nipple, she cried out, her climax even more unexpected for its force. She’d built and built and now she crashed, shaking and limp as aftershocks rampaged through her system.
But he didn’t stop. He never stopped.
Somehow she found herself on her knees at the side of the bed, facedown on the mattress. How exactly she’d gotten there, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that Brad was still as hard as granite inside her, and she’d started to ascend that peak again, her spine arching with each plunge. She couldn’t fathom how she could come again. Knew she would die if she didn’t. She fisted the bedsheets, her shoulders hunched, her body melting into the bed from his relentless siege. He’d made her his, and now he was staking his claim.
He pulled her hair, and the pain felt like permission. To be completely in this moment, to give herself totally to him. To let go again with a moan that verged on agony. Even if they wrecked, they’d go over the cliff together. And God, the trip would be fucking fabulous.
His shout as he came made her shudder. Out of reflex her teeth scissored into the rumpled bedding as his release blasted her inner walls, renewing spasms that had yet to fully cease. He continued to surge into her while he softened. Extending her pleasure, sharing it. Wrapping it around them so nothing could ever touch them but its fragile, transcendent beauty. He fumbled for her hands on the bed and, holding them, swiveled into her until he’d sated the need he’d aroused, easing her body to a shivering plateau beneath his.
