by Tawny Weber
“Yeah? But you’re worried about your friend ratting you out. Worried enough about word getting around that you only wanna be seen with me if we’re out of town.” Brody pulled a contemplative face and rocked back on his heels, then gave a decisive nod. “Yep. You’re ashamed.”
Genna’s jaw dropped in a shocked gasp. She took a step backward, but figured pressing one hand to her heart might be overkill. He wasn’t buying it anyway. Brody was still giving her that pitying look, as if she’d just admitted to sleeping with his photo cut from a high school yearbook under her pillow. Which she hadn’t done for at least nine years.
“Oh, and you’re one to talk,” she tossed back. “If it hadn’t been for my father warning you to stay away from me, you’d never have come over.”
He just stared, no expression in those gold eyes. Damn that SEAL training of his. So Genna pushed harder.
“What’s the difference? Isn’t you being with me your own form of rebellion? A way to give the finger to the guy who shipped you off ten years ago?”
Well, that changed his expression. Right from casual suspicion to icy distance.
Oops. Maybe she’d pushed a little too far.
“I’m your rebellion?”
Genna winced. Leave it to him to home in on that one particular statement. Couldn’t he focus on the insult instead? It’d be a lot easier to smooth that over.
“Aren’t we going to dinner?” she asked in her brightest, let’s-change-the-subject tone. “We’re going to be late if we don’t get on the road, and I’m starving already.”
His expression didn’t shift.
“I don’t think you’re doing it right,” he mused, his slow contemplative tone at odds with the cold look in his eyes. “If you want to rebel, you throw your actions in people’s faces. You don’t hide your bad side away hoping nobody will notice.”
You did if you were afraid of their reaction. Genna pressed her lips together to keep that confession to herself.
“Then, by your own definition, I’m not rebelling,” she pointed out with a teasing smile, hoping to charm him out of pursuing this conversation. “And we’ve already established that I’m not ashamed of being seen with you. So why are we wasting time talking about this? Especially since chitchat is right up there with wearing pink on your list of manly things to do.”
“Because I don’t like being played.”
This was getting ridiculous. Genna took a couple of deep breaths, trying to push away the edges of panic that were pressing down on her. She was so close to her dream. So close to having something—maybe not a relationship, but something—with Brody. And now it was shattering so fast she couldn’t even see where the pieces were flying.
“I’m not playing you. I’m not ashamed of you.” She shifted, lifting her chin and giving him a direct look filled with all the sincerity she had. “And I’m not using you to rebel.”
“Right.”
There was so much sarcasm in that single word that Genna was tempted to look at the floor to see if it was dripping on her feet. What was his problem?
“Don’t you think you’re blowing this out of proportion? I just said that Macy was a tattletale.”
“Exactly. C’mon, Genna,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re all grown up and still living under your parents’ thumbs. What better way to wiggle out than to piss them off by dating the guy they blame for introducing their princess to the dark side?”
“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly. “Are you trying to pick a fight? If you didn’t want to go to dinner, all you had to do was say so. Friends don’t hurt friends, Brody.”
* * *
DIRECT HIT.
Brody grimaced at the baffled pain in Genna’s eyes.
Why was he doing this?
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks to keep his fists from finding a wall to pound on. He had so much anger broiling inside him, but it wasn’t aimed at her.
He didn’t give a damn if she was rebelling. Hell, she deserved to. Her parents were manipulative assbites who were ruining her life with their fears.
It made no difference to him if she hid their relationship, either. She was the one who was going to have to live with the talk after he was gone, not him.
As she said. Friends didn’t hurt friends.
But Brody was a lousy friend. Just ask Carter.
“I should go,” he decided.
“No,” she said quickly. “What is going on? I thought we were going to dinner. I thought we were friends. So either feed me or talk to me, but you aren’t leaving until you do one or the other.”
She was so damned cute when she got feisty. Brody couldn’t help but smile a little. Actually, she was so damned cute all the time, feisty or not. And sexy. Fascinating, entertaining, fun.
His smile fell away.
Maybe that was part of the problem.
He’d thought they could be friends. He hadn’t been able to resist spending time with her, and had thought he could control the intense attraction he felt for her. That he could channel it into making up for some of the lousy deal she’d gotten after he’d left.
But he felt as if he’d signed up for a torture project. Days spent talking and joking. Watching her bake, listening to her dreams. Nights spent hard and horny, diving into dreams so hot he thought the bed was on fire. He was a man used to pushing through the pain, well trained to overcome his body’s weaknesses. Except, apparently, the ones Genna inspired.
“Look,” he said, taking a deep breath and hoping for some semblance of tact and diplomacy. “This friendship thing, it was a mistake.”
Her eyes widened, surprise and hurt flashing. Then, with a sweep of her lashes, her expression changed. Intensified. It sent an itch down Brody’s spine.
“We’re not going to be friends anymore?” she asked in a calm, friendly tone. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was saying the right words, he’d have figured she hadn’t understood him.
As soon as he nodded, she gave him a brilliant smile and tossed off her coat. It hit the floor with a swoosh just as she reached behind her back. The move was quickly accompanied by the sound of a zipper. And Brody’s hiss.
“What, exactly, do you think you’re doing?” he asked, hoping like hell it wasn’t what he thought she was doing.
“Seducing you.”
Damn.
That’s what he’d been afraid of.
Brody’s breath was a little labored, but he tried to reel in his reaction. This wasn’t happening, he warned his dick. No point getting ready for a party they weren’t gonna attend.
His dick, always ready to party, ignored him and hardened rock-solid anyway.
“Genna—” he started to say.
But she interrupted before he could figure out the rest of his protest.
“I figure this is part one of a two-part solution to our problem,” she said. “You were trying to pretend we’re just friends. Except we aren’t. We might be building a friendship. But what we are is crazy attracted to each other. So part one is to act on that attraction once and for all. The total act, with you naked. I’m willing to be on top if you’re still holding on to that friendship myth of yours. That way you can tell yourself I took advantage.”
Brody couldn’t help but laugh. Sure, the sound was strangled and a little painful. But it was the best he could do with the blood streaming south so fast his head was spinning.
She tugged at one sleeve, the red fabric tight from wrist to shoulder. Then she tugged at the other to loosen it, too.
“And then there’s the issue of you thinking I’m ashamed of you. I figure after we’ve had our way with each other’s bodies a few times, we’re going to be hungry. We can go to the nearby café and get something to eat. Since I figure you’re really good at sex, even if I am on top, what we’ll have been doing will be obvious. That should take care of that issue.”
He made some sort of choking sound, sure if he had any blood left in his brain it would have been words
of protest.
Then she let her dress fall to the floor. Brody actually gulped trying not to swallow his tongue.
She was gorgeous.
Ivory limbs glowed like silk, the long sleek length of her interrupted by tiny pieces of black lace. He didn’t know where to start. At the top, where the lace cupped the gentle slope of her breasts. Or at the bottom, where it was barely held in place by two tiny strings.
His gaze as hot as the blood rushing through his body, he decided to settle for the middle. At the cherry-red jewel decorating her belly button.
Screw friendship. And screw good sense.
He was gonna let Genna Reilly seduce him.
10
GENNA HADN’T HAD many opportunities to be ballsy and brave in her life. So she figured she’d been saving up, and this was the perfect time to put every bold instinct she possessed to work.
She didn’t want Brody’s thinking she was ashamed of him standing in the way of whatever they were building together. If it took being outed to her parents to prove that, then fine.
She wanted Brody Lane.
And, dammit, after ten years, she was finally going to have him.
Except he was standing there, fully clothed and still wearing his coat, one hand flexed as if reaching for the doorknob.
And she was standing here, almost naked except her undies and high heels. It wasn’t that she minded the almost-naked part. It was the clothing inequality that bothered her. And the fact that he wasn’t making any moves to change it.
Her bravado waned a smidge. What had she been thinking? That he’d take one look at her underwear, lose his mind and do her against the wall? Clearly her thinking needed an adjustment. Since her state of nakedness did, too, her fingers itched to grab her dress.
Then she saw the look in his eyes. It was as if the golden depths had turned molten, his gaze was so hot. She saw his jaw clench, and the pulse at the base of his throat was pounding hard.
Relief surging through her, washing away the nerves and making way for desire, Genna almost did a happy dance right there in the entryway.
He wanted her. Maybe not enough to grab her and do her against the wall, but that look made her think that maybe she could change his mind.
Knowing that, she didn’t feel naked anymore.
She felt powerful.
“C’mon, big boy,” she said, her tone husky and suggestive. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Brody laughed, just as she’d hoped he would. Then, his eyes still hot and locked on her body, he shrugged off his jacket and stepped closer. Close enough to touch.
She didn’t wait for him to make the first move.
She’d said she was seducing him, and she meant it.
So she grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him closer, ignoring the ping as one of his buttons flew off and hit the wall. In heels, she was tall enough that all she had to do was tilt her head back to meet his mouth. So tilt she did, one hand wrapping around the back of his neck and holding tight.
As his mouth took hers, she was grateful she was holding on. Oh, my. Her mind spun in a slow, delicious circle.
It was like he was starving and she a feast.
His tongue swept in, plunging deep. Demanding a response that was hard to offer while her body was melting into a puddle of lust.
But Genna did her best. Her tongue danced with his, their lips sliding in hot need against each other. The moves rolled, one into another, and she could barely think as the passion pounded through her veins.
His hands swept along her arms so light and soft they were barely there, leaving tingles of needy heat. He reached her wrists and bracketed each loosely between his fingers.
Then, so fast she didn’t even realize what was happening, he had her up against the wall.
Genna almost came right then and there. Her core throbbed, wet and hot. Her thighs trembled and her mind went completely blank. All she could do was feel. And she felt incredible.
Trapped between the cool plaster and his hard, hot body, she wrapped one leg around his thigh to pull him closer. He gripped her hands, both of them, and lifted them above her head, anchoring them there with one of his while he slid the other into her hair to lift her face closer.
His kiss was voracious.
His teeth scraped her lower lip, tugging it into his mouth, then sucking. Genna whimpered. His tongue swept over the tender flesh as if soothing it, then plunged into her mouth again.
His fingers skimmed along the back of her neck, tugging at her hair to hold her mouth in place, totally at his mercy. A part of her reveled in the power he had over her. That he demanded.
Another part, though, wanted to make demands of her own. She wanted to touch him. To run her hands over those muscles and feel how hard they could get. To measure the tantalizing width of his shoulders, the rigid length of his thighs. And all the other hard, wide and long things he might be willing to share.
She shifted to release her hands from his grip. But he wouldn’t let go.
A thrill surged through her system, from the tips of her fingers to the aching bud between her thighs. She tugged harder, but his grip didn’t change. He was in control.
Or so he thought.
Unable to use her hands, Genna slid her foot down the back of his thigh to his calf, using the move to press her core tighter against his hip. Then she slid her foot back up, gripping him tight.
He growled, low and sexy in his throat.
She arched her back to press her breasts against his chest. The move made her nipples tighten to rigid buds, aching for attention.
As if he’d heard their plea, he skimmed his hand down the side of her throat and slid it between their bodies to cup her breast. She swelled, aching and needy, against the lace of her bra trying to get closer to the hard warmth of his palm.
Her breath came faster now. Her pulse raced and her heart pounded so hard, she was sure he could feel it.
“More,” she breathed against his lips.
“How much more?” His fingers dipped between the edge of her bra and her skin, rubbing his knuckles back and forth along her nipple. She squirmed, pressing herself tighter against his thigh, desperate to ease the mounting pressure there.
“Everything you’ve got,” she gasped.
He leaned back. She gave a shuddering sigh, her arms moving to reach for him. But although he lowered his hand so her arms were bent above her head, he didn’t let go.
Instead, he used his free hand to pull the lace cup of her bra down so it lifted her breast. For a long, exhilarating moment he stared. His eyes were hot, intense. His breath short and the look on his face as needy as the desire contracting low in Genna’s belly.
He brushed one finger, just the tip, over her nipple.
Genna whimpered.
He leaned forward, this time touching his tongue to her pebbled peak. He pulled back just a little and blew.
Genna’s thighs quivered, her clitoris trembling. She pressed harder against his thigh, undulating, desperate to relieve the pressure.
His free hand skimmed over her stomach, fingers leaving a hot trail all the way to the slender elastic band of her thong. He traced the lace from front to back, then reached out to cup his large hand over her butt, squeezing her cheek and pulling her tight against him. Angling her perfectly.
Oh, God.
Her body started shaking.
He bent his head, taking her nipple into his mouth. Sucking hard. Swirling his tongue around, nipping, then swirling again. His hand slid beneath her thigh, his fingers touching the wet bud there. He gently pinched her clitoris, making her cry out.
So close.
Her body was so tight.
The orgasm right there, just out of reach.
Now.
She needed it now.
He didn’t bother pushing her panties aside. Instead, with a quick snap of his fingers, he ripped the lace so the fabric fell to the floor between their feet.
Sucking hard on her nipple, it wasn’t
until he pinched the other one that she realized he’d let go of her arms.
Unable to remember what she’d wanted to do with her hands, unable to do anything else, she gripped his shoulders so tight her nails dug into his flesh.
He slid two fingers along the length of her swollen clit. Up, then down, then up again.
The climax coiled tighter.
Then he thrust one finger inside her, swirling while his thumb worked her bud.
The climax snapped.
Genna’s head flew back against the wall, her eyes closed tight as stars exploded in time with the orgasm pounding through her.
He didn’t stop sucking or thrusting.
She didn’t stop coming.
Not until everything went black, the stars behind her eyes fading. The orgasm was still coming in tiny shudders now, her slick flesh still vibrating around his finger.
Her breath tore from a throat so dry, she had to try three times just to swallow.
He shifted, leaving a chill where his body had been.
“Where are you going?” she cried, not done with him yet.
“I want to taste you.”
Ohhhh. The walls of her insides quivered again, a tiny orgasm exploding at his words.
But as much as she wanted to score as many climaxes as she could, she wanted something else more.
She wanted to touch him.
To see him.
For more than ten years, she’d dreamed of seeing him naked. Fantasized about what his body looked like. She wanted—no, needed—to see it. Now.
She grabbed his shirt, still loose around his shoulders.
“Not yet,” she said, shaking her head.
His eyes met hers. The golden depths were molten with desire, narrowed in question.
“Strip first,” she told him. “It’s only fair.”
His lips quirked to one side and he gave her body a considering look. Genna followed his gaze, realizing he’d pushed her bra beneath both of her breasts, the black lace vivid against her pale white flesh and berry-red nipples. Her panties were shredded, leaving the only other thing on her body a belly-button ring and a pair of black heels.
