by Tawny Weber
Her mouth went dry. Oh, wow.
“Genna?” He cast a glance behind her, then back with an arched brow. “Joe isn’t here.”
She knew that. After the third screaming match with their father that week, her brother had torn off on his motorcycle before dinner, heading for the highway. To see one of his girls, Genna figured. Leaving the way clear for her to pay a visit to his best friend.
“I’m not here to see Joe.”
Not the answer he’d been expecting, if his frown was anything to go by.
“Then what’s up?” he asked, grabbing a rag and sliding the wrench through it before placing the tool in its spot in the big red toolbox. The area around him was as an oasis of tidy organization compared with the chaos of the rest of the garage. His space versus his dad’s, Genna figured.
At her continued silence, he took a step closer, then stopped. She almost pouted. It was as if he’d heard a signal warning that she was there for something naughty.
“You have a problem with your BMW?” Frowning now, he gave her a quick once-over. Not in a sexy way, more as though he was worried she was hurt.
Genna’s heart sighed. Wasn’t he sweet?
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, having to clear her throat after pushing the words through a mouth as dry as the Mojave. “So how’re you doing? Is something wrong with your bike?”
It was all she could do not to wince at her own inanity. Seriously, Genna? That’s the best you can come up with? She gave herself a mental slap upside the head as if it’d knock her back to normal. Normal Genna had no problem talking. And she’d spent the last three months practicing her flirting skills for an opportunity like this.
One where it was just her and Brody. Alone. Together.
Time to put all that practice to good use.
“You came to ask about my bike?”
“I came to visit with you,” she corrected, taking another one of those deep breaths. His gaze didn’t drop to her chest, though, so she let it out. No point hyperventilating. It wasn’t going to make her breasts any bigger.
“Why?”
“Why not? You’re a friend of my brother’s. You’re over at our place all the time.” An exaggeration, since he’d been over maybe three times in the last year. Sheriff Reilly didn’t care for troublemakers on his property. But that was beside the point. “You never visit with me, though. I figure it’s because Joe’s such an attention hog. My mom says he takes the title ‘son’ in the wrong way, figuring the whole universe revolves around him.”
She grinned, waiting for him to join her. When he just stared, those gold eyes intent and cautious, she dimmed the smile a little. Obviously friendliness wasn’t something he was overly familiar with. No point scaring him.
“And tonight I was out and about, and saw a light on.” She gestured to the bulb swinging overhead with its halo of moths. “Since Joe’s not around, I figured why not stop by and say hi.”
“If Joe were here, you wouldn’t have bothered?” He looked around, then spying the portable phone, grabbed it. To call her brother?
Genna’s lips twitched. Wasn’t he the gentleman? That’s what was so fascinating about him, though. He didn’t play the games boys her age did. From what she could tell, he didn’t play games at all.
“Do you ever smile?” She wanted to see those lips turn upward and his gaze light up almost as much as she wanted to feel his mouth on hers and his eyes filled with desire.
He didn’t respond. Just tucked his phone into his back pocket, crossed his arms over that sexy chest and stared.
“You gonna tell me why you’re here? You lose a bet or something?”
Won a dare. But he didn’t need to know that.
“I’ll tell you as soon as you smile,” she teased, stepping farther into the garage. She was hit with the scent of hot concrete, metal and oil she associated with car repair, and something else. Something earthy and appealing.
Soap. And man. Her belly quivered and her thighs trembled.
“Genna.”
The sound of her name on his lips sent shivers through her, eliminating every niggling doubt or cautionary concern.
Leaving only excitement and desire.
“Actually, I’m here to seduce you,” she blurted out. As if her words were gasoline on a fire, the already sultry air flared even hotter.
Good.
She was ready to get hot and wild.
* * *
SHIT.
Brody Lane had been in trouble plenty of times in his life. So many, it’d be easier to count the times he hadn’t been in trouble.
But he’d never been as screwed as he was right now.
He was smart enough to know that.
What he wasn’t was smart enough to know how to get himself out of it.
Genna Reilly.
Sugar-sweet and wickedly exotic.
The popular, preppy princess who got good grades, cheered at games and helped old ladies across the street.
About as opposite Brody’s type as an eighty-year-old nun.
And the star of four out of five of his sexual fantasies.
A problem considering that at the tender age of seventeen, she was pure jailbait.
And so off-limits, she should be wrapped in barbed wire and sporting an alarm button.
Nobody messed with Sheriff Reilly’s little girl.
Nobody.
And nobody’d have to be a total dumbass to not only cross that line, but to mess with Joe Reilly’s little sister. The sheriff was a mean son of a bitch, but Joe was meaner. He didn’t believe in letting a silly thing like the law get in his way.
Joe’s mean side rarely bothered Brody.
Unless he was facing the possibility of having all that mean aimed his way.
Smart thinking said shoo Genna right back out of his garage and out to the very edges of his life again. The edge where she only showed up on the opposite side of the street from time to time. And in his hot, sweaty dreams every night.
“Are you gonna offer me a beer?” she asked, tilting her head toward the six-pack minus one he’d left in the cooler.
“You’re underage.”
Eyes rounded in amusement, she gestured to the one he’d cracked open an hour ago, then forgot about after one swig.
“Pot, meet kettle?”
Brody’s lips twitched. Damn, she had a smart mouth.
A very sexy, pouty-lipped smart mouth.
One he spent way too much time fantasizing over.
One he’d worked damned hard to ignore.
“I’m not aiding and abetting underage drinking,” he said with a shrug. He didn’t mind the hypocrite label. He’d sported worse. And he didn’t think Genna, with any fewer inhibitions than she had already, was good for his peace of mind.
“So why are you here again?” he asked with his darkest glower. “Because we both know you’re not the seducing kind.”
He wanted to shove her out the door. Except that’d require touching her. So maybe he could mean her out instead. It always worked for his old man. The guy opened his nasty mouth and cleared a room in less than a minute.
“Why am I here?” she repeated, clearly buying time as she wet her lips and took a nervous breath. The move sent the ruffles of her halter fluttering in a way Brody had no business noticing. “I’m here because of a dare.”
Figured. Brody crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’re here to use me?”
Her lower lip dropped, then jutted out in a pout. He didn’t figure she had the experience to realize just how freaking sexy that move was.
He did, though.
His rapidly hardening dick echoed its agreement.
“I wouldn’t use you.”
“No? So you came in here to talk to the bad boy of Bedford because you were craving my scintillating conversation?”
She started to giggle, then pressed her lips together, her face so amused she looked as if she were going to burst at any second.
“What?�
� he prodded with a growl.
“You said scintillating.”
“Yeah? So? I know how to read, too.” Damn, he hated this town. Everyone—even the sexy wannabe seductress in front of him—thought they had him so figured out. Labeled and dismissed, they never looked past his last name.
Hell, Genna’s own brother, Joe, was way worse than Brody when it came to trouble. But people looked at his Harley, a brand-new, off-the-showroom-floor graduation gift, and smiled. They looked at Brody’s, bought after years of scrubbing dishes in the back of the bar, pumping gas and wrenching at Lou’s Garage, and saw trouble.
“I didn’t mean to suggest you were stupid,” Genna said with honest bluntness, her expression somewhere between indignant and horrified. “I just think it’s a funny word.”
“Right.”
“I do. Like grandiose.” Brody grinned at the way she seemed to relish the word, drawing it out in a tone worthy of a royal princess.
“You like things really big?” he mused before he could stop himself.
Her eyes lit, the worry leaving her face and her smile returning like a ray of sunlight. It made him want to smile back. Almost.
“Participle?” She offered the word like a hostess offering a drink. As if inviting him to indulge.
“Does it dangle?”
Her laugh gurgled out, about the lightest, happiest sound to ever ring through this murky garage.
Brody couldn’t help himself. He grinned. He just had to.
“You’re cute,” she decided, still smiling.
“Yeah?” He’d never been called cute before. Any number of other four-letter words, but not that one.
“Yeah,” she said, stepping closer. Too close. Her scent wrapped around him, light and tasty, like the daiquiris he mixed in the bar on nights his old man passed out before closing.
Brody’s smile disappeared.
Shit. She thought they were having a conversation.
He should have stuck to grumpy and silent.
“You need to leave.”
Please.
“I don’t think so,” she murmured, her words so quiet they were a whisper on the heavy night air.
He could actually feel his brains start to slip away. Bad news, since he needed them. They were there to remind him to stay away from her. To caution him to keep his hands to himself. To warn him about those male relatives of hers. The ones he was supposed to watch out for. Whatever the hell their names were.
But she was close enough now for him to see the band of midnight encircling her pupils, all the more vivid against the pale blue of her irises.
“You really need to go.” Desperate, he reached out to move her aside. Because if she wasn’t leaving, he was.
But the minute he touched her, all thought of either one of them leaving fled. His fingers curled over the smooth, deliciously soft skin of her upper arms. She was so slender, but he could feel the muscles there. She was so warm, he felt like a tiny piece of him, forever frozen, was melting in his chest.
It was terrifying.
Those fascinating eyes huge and locked on his, she reached out to trail her fingers over his chest. Her touch was so soft and tentative, as if she were petting a wild animal. Or a rabid dog.
Brody wondered if he bared his teeth and growled, would she run?
He should try it.
But those fingers had shorted out his ability to think.
It was as if she’d reached in and flipped the last switch.
Brain, off.
Dick, on.
When she leaned closer, he realized she was the perfect height.
She fit perfectly against his body, her slender curves hitting all his favorite spots.
Her mouth was right there. Waiting.
He dropped his gaze, noting the slight quiver in the full, red cushion of her lower lip. He met her eyes again. No nerves there. Just heat. Pure, hot, intense.
Insistent.
“Kiss me.”
“It’s a bad idea.”
“Sure it is,” she agreed, her gaze not leaving his as she leaned in, closing those last few infinitesimal inches between them. Her breath warmed his mouth just before she brushed the slightest whisper of a kiss against his lips.
“So be bad.”
2
GENNA’S ENTIRE BODY was quivering. Nerves. Excitement. Desire. She couldn’t tell which was which. Just knew they were all there.
She stared up at Brody, her entire being engulfed by his presence. Everything was brighter. Stronger. Bigger.
The overhead light glinted blue in the vivid black of his hair as it fell over his forehead, stick-straight strands hanging in his golden-brown eyes.
Her heart beat so hard against her chest she was surprised it didn’t jump right out and glom on to him. She wanted him so much. Breathing deeply, she filled her lungs with his scent. Clean like soap, but earthy. All male. All man.
Her lips trembled so much, she wanted to bite down to keep them still. But she was afraid that might discourage him from taking her be bad suggestion.
She really wanted him to be bad.
She needed him to take over. Because that kiss, that tiny little brush of her lips, that was about the extent of her experience.
“Please,” she whispered.
Ah, there it was. The magic word. Brody closed his eyes as if in prayer. When he opened them, the caution was gone. Instead, he was looking at her as though he was starving. As though he was the big bad wolf, and she was a delicious treat.
His gaze locked on hers, demanding that she watch him kiss her.
His lips were so soft. Tension she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge seeped away as they rubbed over hers. Angling this way, shaping her mouth that way. So wonderful.
Then his tongue slid over the seam of her lips. Wet heat.
Oops, there came that tension again. And it’d brought a whole slew of wickedly enticing feelings with it. They whipped through her body, making her knees weak. Her heart race. And her panties damp.
His lips were just a whisper against hers. Still soft as he seemed to be memorizing the shape of her mouth with his tongue. He was touching only her shoulders, his hands so light she could barely feel them.
But the look in his eyes was so intense, so demanding, that she shivered. It was as if he were promising that she’d have to strip naked and share her every naughty secret. That she do all sorts of things she’d only heard in whispers, read in her favorite romance novels and sneaked peeks at on the internet.
She’d never realized that fear had a sexy edge. That the aching physical lure of it could beckon, even as her mind cautioned her that this kiss, this man, and whatever was coming next, were way, way out of her league.
Then, as if he couldn’t stand the teasing any longer, his tongue swept into her mouth and, thankfully, his eyes closed. Releasing her.
He tasted so good. His tongue was pure power as it slid along hers, teaching her how he wanted her to respond.
Genna moaned, her stomach feeling as if she’d just taken a dive on a roller coaster.
Relieved, she closed her own eyes, concentrating instead on the clamoring of sensations spinning through her body. It was easier this way. It felt safer. As though she could just let go and not worry about what might happen next.
Her hands trailed, whisper-soft, over his chest. He was so hard, muscled but not bulky. Her fingers found a scar, long and rigid. As she wrapped her arms low around his back, she discovered a few more. She wanted to kiss them, every single one. To wish away the hurts she knew he’d suffered. She wanted to make him happy. To make him feel so good, he’d forget about all the bad he’d ever felt.
As if hearing her wish, her fingers—and she swore it was of their own volition—skimmed the waistband of his jeans. The fabric was soft. Worn. And so easy to slip her hand beneath.
His breath caught, the action pressing his hard chest against her aching nipples. He groaned, a low rumble against her mouth, before pulling away.
; She wasn’t sure, since her blood was pounding too hard for her to hear, but she thought she whimpered.
“No.”
“Yes,” she whispered back. She wanted to smile, to marshal together a clever argument that’d convince him that this was a good idea. But deep inside, beneath the crush that was driving her past reason, she knew it really wasn’t. Just as she knew he wasn’t going to listen to a thing she said.
Which left only one option for getting her way.
And that was physical.
More nervous than before her driving test, her SATs and opening her letter from Stanford combined, Genna took a deep breath to calm the dragons dancing in her stomach and leaned back a little. Not enough to put any real distance between her and Brody. Definitely not enough to give him the silly idea that they might be done here. But enough for her to reach up, sliding her hands under the heavy curtain of her hair. Her fingers quickly picked apart the bow tying her halter behind her neck.
His eyes wide and worried, Brody shook his head as if he could deny what she was about to do. But he didn’t stop her. Instead, his gaze dropped, watching first her hands, and then the fabric of her blouse, drop to her waist.
Genna bit her lip to stop their trembling.
And waited.
His eyes weren’t worried now. They were hot. Hot and intense and greedy.
His lids lowered, but didn’t hide the sensual gleam. She could see the pulse beating, fast and furious, in his throat. He looked as if he could eat her up in one big, juicy bite.
So why didn’t he?
She’d heard that sexual frustration was a bad thing, but she didn’t think it was supposed to come with a big fat dose of anger.
Wasn’t he supposed to do something? Be so overcome by lust that he grabbed her and took all the choices and moves and decisions out of her hands? That’s how it happened in all the books. Clearly, he needed to read more.
“If you don’t do something, I’m gonna kick you,” she told him through gritted teeth.
“Baby, this is wrong.”
Genna melted. The way he said baby, sort of low and growly, was so sexy and sweet.
