The Pleasure Principle

by Kimberly Raye

  Somewhere in the far distance she heard her own voice. The sound, high-pitched and frenzied, vibrated from her lips and split open the breath-laden silence. “Brady!”

  Fire flashed in his gaze, as if the sound of her voice excited him even more than being buried deep inside her. But then his eyes closed, his teeth clenched and he arched his neck. He gripped her hips, holding her to him as he plunged deep one last time and gave in to his own orgasm.

  Eden collapsed on top of him and buried her face in his neck. He gathered her in his arms and held her.

  Their hearts thundered together, one pressed against the other. She touched a soft kiss to his salty skin, loving the taste and the texture of him.

  Loving him.

  The thought jarred her, then filled her with dismay. She didn’t love him and he didn’t love her. This was purely physical. A temporary tryst. A hot affair.

  So what if she’d cried out his name?

  It wasn’t as if she’d stripped naked and bared all. She was still wearing her sundress. It was just a silly little cry.

  The memory of her own voice echoed and a wave of embarrassment washed through her. Okay, so it had been more like a scream. So what? No doubt women screamed for him all the time. It was no big deal.

  She’d regained her control tonight and she wasn’t going to lose sight of that fact because of a minor slip up.

  Chances were he hadn’t even noticed.

  “Basic Instinct,” he finally murmured, confirming her thoughts. He hadn’t noticed at all. Instead, he’d been trying to figure out which movie she’d used as inspiration for tonight’s seduction.

  She wasn’t sure why the notion should bother her, but it did. She didn’t want him so totally and completely focused on her that he noticed nothing else, especially the breaking of her vow of orgasmic silence.

  Yet, at the same time, the fact that he hadn’t noticed something so monumental sent a wave of annoyance through her.

  “I knew the thing with the dress seemed familiar, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

  “Really?” She tried to pull away but he held her still.

  “Wait a second.” He stared up at her, a grin tilting the corner of his mouth. “We’re not done yet.”

  “Yes we are. You had an orgasm. I had an orgasm.” Boy, had she ever. “We’re done.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know who came up with this one orgasm per encounter rule, but I’m getting damned tired of it. We’re changing it.”

  “Too bad because I happen to like it.”

  “You know what I think?” Without waiting for a reply, he rolled her over onto her back and pressed her into the sofa. His weight urged her legs even further and he sank a fraction deeper. The grin faded as his gaze fired bright. “I think you like me.”

  “Liking someone complicates things.”

  The comment wiped the grin from his face. “And we don’t want complications, do we?”

  He’d directed the question at her, but she had the distinct feeling he was asking it more of himself. As if he were weighing the merits of complicating their relationship.

  As if.

  His grin was quick and sure when it slid back into place and she was left to wonder if she’d just imagined his sudden change of mood. “You like me, all right.”

  “I do not like you.” She didn’t like him. It wasn’t about like. It was about lust. I’ll take lust over love any old day.

  That’s what she told herself, but the sound of her own voice still echoed in her ears. Loud. Intense. She’d shared orgasms before and none of them had made her scream.

  But then none of the men she’d been with had been Brady.

  As if he read her thoughts, he grinned again. “Your mouth says no, darlin’, but your body says yes.” He shifted ever so slightly and she tightened around him, her muscles acting on their own accord. “Yes,” he told her.

  “No.”

  He withdrew ever so slightly and slid back inside. Her body accepted him eagerly, grasping him as if it didn’t want to let go. “Yes,” he said again.

  “No.” The word was breathless this time, her nerves buzzing from the delicious pressure deep inside her.

  “Yes.” He plunged again. Harder this time. Deeper.

  “No,” she managed after a long, heart-pounding moment.

  “Yes,” he urged as he pulled back and thrust again. “Yes.” And again. “Yes.” And again.

  “Yes!” she cried out before she could stop herself. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and gave herself up to the delicious feel of Brady Weston.

  So much for control.

  SHE’D SCREAMED. And cried. And even begged.

  The knowledge should have sent a wave of satisfaction through Brady. It would have, only despite her intense reaction, he thought she was still holding back.

  He eyed the skimpy sundress that she still wore, the thin white material stretched tight across her full breasts. He could see the faint shadow of her nipples beneath, the dimples of her areola. A shadow. That’s all she’d allowed him.

  She was still hiding, all right.

  He knew it had something to do with Jake and the striptease she’d supposedly performed. Despite her erotic performance for him earlier that evening, he couldn’t picture Eden taking it all off for a horny group of teen ballplayers.

  She’d been too shy and quiet back then. Too trusting. He couldn’t forget how open and wide and honest her light blue eyes had been whenever she’d stared at him during English class. How every expression had always showed on her beautiful face. Her embarrassment. Her longing.

  Before the rumor.

  A rumor he hadn’t believed, despite her sudden change. He couldn’t quite associate the outrageous antics that had been spread around the locker room to the shy girl who’d looked away every time he’d glanced at her. Even if that shy girl had done an about face and turned into Cadillac High’s baddest bad girl.

  The rumor had brought about the change rather than any sexual encounter with Jake and the rest of the team. Eden had been hurt and she’d decided to bottle her feelings up and pretend she didn’t have any.

  He knew what that was like all too well because he was doing it right now with his grandfather. Pretending he liked hammering soles day after day. Pretending he didn’t like Eden near as much as he did.

  His thoughts went to her, to the way she’d chewed on her full bottom lip and stared back at him with those guarded blue eyes last night, when she’d been on top of him and he’d been deep, deep inside her.

  She liked him, all right. She just didn’t trust him.

  She didn’t trust any man.

  So? Their relationship wasn’t about trust. It was all about proving something to himself and he’d done just that by making her cry out. Crying, begging, pleading. That’s what he’d wanted from her. He shouldn’t want more.

  But he did.

  The realization stayed with him all the way back to his apartment, to the empty bed where he tossed and turned until dawn came and with it, a full day’s work.

  God help him, but he wanted her completely naked and vulnerable and trusting and—Ouch.

  Pain bolted through him as Brady slammed the hammer down on his thumb. The sensation jarred him back to reality, to the fact that he’d been hammering the same sole for the past fifteen minutes because of Eden.

  “I think she’s just about done,” Zeke said as he glanced over at Brady.

  “Um, yeah.” He tossed the boot to the side and reached for another sole.

  “Seems like something’s bothering you.” Zeke hammered a few times. “Or maybe someone’s bothering you.” His gaze met Brady’s. “Mitchell Jenkins saw you and Eden Hallsey over at the Longhorn last night.”

  “And?”

  “And you two looked mighty friendly is all.” He hammered a few more times. “She is awful pretty.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Brady wasn’t sure why the comment bothered him so.

  Hell’s bel
ls, who was he kidding? He knew why it bothered him. He was jealous. Damned jealous. Of all the ridiculous, stupid, crazy things to be.

  “It don’t mean nothing.”

  “It means something all right. A person doesn’t just comment on a man’s dinner company unless he means something.”

  “I just think it’s strange, is all.”

  “Because I was out with a pretty woman?”

  “Because you were out with that particular pretty woman. She just don’t seem your type, is all.”

  “And what type is she?” Brady had stopped hammering. He stepped closer to Zeke who’d abandoned his work.

  The man held out his hands. “Look, let’s just forget it.”

  “Say it,” Brady said. He knew he was overreacting, but he’d reached his limit. After seeing so many men ogle his woman, he’d just about had it with all the attention she drew. And now to have Zeke commenting on her… He’d reached his boiling point.

  He was itching for a fight.

  “Say it,” he said again, backing the other man up a step. Zeke tripped in the process and fell backwards onto a freshly nailed boot. His hand snagged on the edge of a nail and he cut himself.

  “Let’s just forget about this.”

  “No,” Brady said as he grabbed Zeke by his good hand and helped him to his feet.

  Zeke examined his bleeding hand. “I really don’t think—” The words stalled as Brady grabbed him by the collar.

  “Say it.”

  “She’s just a little worn, is all. I mean, that’s what I’ve heard. Not that I know myself. I was totally faithful to Mabel while we were married. Never even looked at another woman. But I used to hear talk out at Mabel’s daddy’s ranch when I worked out there.”

  Brady tightened his grip and pulled Zeke nose to nose. “Don’t believe everything you hear, and don’t go adding to the gossip.”

  “What’s going on here?” The sound of Zachariah Weston’s voice cut into the argument and Brady loosened his hold on Zeke.

  Surprise rushed through him as he realized that the old man had spoken to him. He’d finally spoken.

  Brady turned toward the old man.

  “Zeke? Is something wrong?” Zachariah directed a concerned stare at the young man.

  “I should have known,” Brady muttered. He leaned over and retrieved the bakery bag he’d picked up earlier that morning. “I’ve got caramel-covered cinnamon rolls.” He held up the bag, but the old man wasn’t paying any attention. As usual. “Your favorite.”

  “You get on over to First Aid and let them take a look at that cut,” Zachariah said before he turned to walk away.

  Brady’s frustration peaked and before he could remember his vow to endure the old man’s silence, his mouth opened.

  “Can’t you just say good morning?” he shouted after his grandfather.

  The old man stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Just once,” Brady pleaded, his voice softer, filled with the desperation bubbling inside him. “Can’t you just say it?”

  For a long moment, he thought the old man would actually turn around. Time seemed to stand still. Brady’s breath lodged in his chest as he waited for the old man’s reaction. A word. A nod. Something.

  Zachariah Weston stepped toward his office.

  “Dammit,” Brady muttered.

  “Sorry about what I said,” Zeke said. “I didn’t mean nothing. Just trying to warn you.”

  But there was no need for a warning where Eden Hallsey was concerned. He wasn’t in danger because their affair was over. Last night had been Saturday. One full week since their first encounter, since he’d made up his mind to seduce her until she lost her precious control and cried out his name.

  She’d done just that, even if she had been wearing a sundress at the time.

  “Here.” He tossed the cinnamon rolls at Zeke. “Knock yourself out.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  He was mad, and frustrated and tired of killing himself to please a man who obviously didn’t have an ounce of forgiveness in his heart.

  For the first time, Brady actually considered the possibility that he might not be able to win back his grandaddy’s favor. And with that thought came a sense of failure that stayed with him throughout the day and sent him searching for an escape later that evening.

  THE PIGGLY WIGGLY didn’t exactly have the sit-down, drown-your-misery atmosphere Brady needed at the moment, but it would have to do. The Pink Cadillac was the only bar in town and that, like the beautiful owner, was now completely off-limits.

  As if his thoughts conjured her up, he rounded the corner to find Eden standing in the snack section, her arms overflowing with bags of cheese curls and pretzels.

  She wore her usual attire—a pair of jeans and a tank top. The soft white cotton was a stark contrast against her tanned skin. A ponytail tugged her long blond hair away from her face with the exception of a few wayward tendrils that hung loose at the nape of her neck. Her skin glowed with perspiration and he knew she’d been hard at work all day the way he had.

  She looked as tired as he felt, and the urge to rush to her side and hold her nearly overwhelmed him.

  But getting close to Eden Hallsey was not part of tonight’s plan. He’d been there, done that, and now it was over.

  He wasn’t even going to talk to her. It was better to slip away quietly and carry on with his plans. That’s what he told himself, but then she dropped a bag and he didn’t even think. He simply reacted.

  She was on her knees, gathering up bags when he dropped down next to her and reached for some wayward Doritos. “Thanks,” she said. “I guess I should have hunted for a basket, but they were all take—” Her words died as her gaze collided with his. “Uh, hi.”

  “Hi, yourself.”

  She lifted a hand to her face and pushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”

  He held up a bottle of wine.

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “What? You have something against Blueberry Delight?”

  “Actually, it has something against me.” She made a face. “Ninth grade. Tracey Jones’s birthday party. I drank four glasses and spent the entire evening hanging over the toilet in her parents’ bathroom.”

  He grinned, remembering the way she’d been. So naive and sheltered and accepted. Before the rumors. Before she’d been hurt so badly she’d stopped trusting all men.

  Brady barely ignored the strange urge to gather her in his arms and simply hold her right there in the middle of the grocery store in front of the Cheetos display. Crazy.

  “It wasn’t pleasant,” she added with a shudder. “One of the worst moments of my life.”

  “Eighth grade. Fred Tate’s Fourth of July barbecue. We raided his parents’ liquor cabinet after they’d left to watch fireworks at the park. Only it was eight glasses and his parents’ pool hasn’t been the same since.”

  She grimaced as she glanced at the bottle. “I would’ve thought you’d learned your lesson.”

  “What can I say? I’m feeling a little nostalgic.”

  “Why don’t you come on over to the bar and I’ll pour you a beer? On the house.” She grinned. “Sort of a farewell between friends.”

  “Friends, huh?”

  “We are, aren’t we?”

  He nodded. At that moment, he wanted to be her friend even more than he wanted to kiss her. The notion was crazy, and yet it was true. So true that his chest ached at the prospect.

  “Thanks, but I’m really not up to a crowd right now.” He wasn’t going to say it. Not no, but hell no. “Why don’t you come with me? I thought I’d take a little ride out to Morgan’s Creek the way we used to on Saturday nights.”

  “You are feeling nostalgic.” She looked as if the idea held more appeal than anything she’d heard in a long, long time. “I’m afraid I can’t. The football widow’s party is in full swing and we ran out of snacks.”

  “I thought Kasey borrowed the truck
to go after snacks?”

  “She did, but then she ran into Laurie over at the Dippity Do. The girl challenged her to a nail polishing race and by the time she’d reached the Top Coat, the wholesaler was closed. I swear,” Eden said with a shake of her head. “Those two are going to give me even more gray hair than I already have.”

  “Gray hair is nice on a woman.”

  She gave him a what-potato-truck-did-you-fall-off-of look. “Come again.”

  “Nice.” He leaned close enough to finger a strand of her hair. “You’d look nice in any color.”

  The compliment had the desired effect on her. She blushed and there wasn’t a prettier sight.

  Silence descended for several long moments as she shifted bags around and tried to adjust her arms. He simply stared at the way her cheeks had flushed such an enticing shade of pink. It was a sight he remembered from English class. Christ, he was feeling nostalgic.

  “Where is Kasey now?” he asked, suddenly determined to get her to accompany him to the river. He wanted, no he needed to spend some time with Eden. This Eden. Not the bold, brassy I’ll-take-lust-over-love-any-old-day woman he’d come to know intimately, but this soft-spoken, easygoing, blushing woman.

  “Waiting tables the last I saw.”

  “Then she can cover for you. We’ll drop the snacks off on the way and you can hand over the keys and let her lock up later.”

  “I really can’t…” He watched the indecision play across her features, along with longing and he felt himself pulled back to English class where he’d glanced behind him so many times and seen the same look. The same open, honest desire.

  Feelings she’d had, but had never acted on.

  But some of the bold, brassy, headstrong woman she’d become must have figured in now because where she would have shook her head and turned away so long ago, she now smiled. “The party is almost over, and Kasey deserves a little stress for screwing up the supply trip. I guess you’ve got yourself a date.”

  THEY WERE NOT on a date.

  Eden told herself that as she climbed into the cab of the old pick-up and rode out to Morgan’s Lake with Brady. Of course, she’d called it that, but it had been merely a figure of speech. A stupid slip. And this was not a date.