Forsaken Trail

by Devney Perry

  My chest heaved as I tried to regain my breath. The heat between us was like standing in the middle of an active volcano.

  We reached the landing and Brody jostled me, hoisting me higher so that my center pressed against his zipper. A whimper escaped my throat. My core was drenched and aching. The throb in my body vibrated from my bones, shaking me from skull to toe.

  Brody stormed through his open bedroom door, then he had me on the bed, setting me down and covering me with his weight. His lips slammed down on mine, his tongue plunging deep.

  I moaned and threaded my fingers through his hair, letting the short strands at the nape tickle my palms. The longer strands were like silk against my fingertips as Brody ravaged my mouth, exploring every corner.

  When had a kiss been so erotic? Not even the night of the wedding had I been this close to an orgasm from a kiss alone. Thank you, hormones.

  I spread my legs, making room to cradle Brody’s hips with mine. The steel rod behind his slacks rubbed against the thin fabric of my leggings.

  “Yes,” I moaned when he rocked against me, his lips trailing down my throat.

  He found my pulse again and sucked. “I want to taste you.”

  I gulped. “Yes.”

  His hands dove under the hem of my sweatshirt, sliding up my ribs. When he found that I wasn’t wearing a bra, his entire body froze. Those green eyes whipped to mine.

  “Spoiler alert.” I winked. “I’m not wearing panties either.”

  A slow grin spread across his face as he pulled away and stood from the bed. “Next time don’t tell me. I like surprises too.”

  Next time.

  I wanted a next time. We hadn’t even gotten to the good stuff tonight and I was already looking forward to doing it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Brody’s long fingers slipped into the waistband of my leggings. He tugged, stripping them over my hips. When my bare mound came into view, his eyes flared, and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Ravenous. He was ravenous for me.

  I squirmed, hoping he’d ditch the leggings and get down to business. But he took his time, pulling them inch by inch, collecting the stretchy cotton in his hands as he worked lower and lower.

  Finally, he pulled them off my feet and tossed them over a shoulder.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful.” He knelt at the foot of the bed, hooking his hands behind my knees. Then with a fast tug, he had me splayed before him.

  Brody didn’t linger. He dove in, flattening his tongue as he tasted my glistening folds. When he reached my clit, I nearly came off the bed.

  “Oh my God.” I writhed, shaking and trembling for more.

  He licked me again. “You taste fucking incredible.”

  My hands found their way into his hair, gripping it as he feasted. The torture was pure ecstasy and I succumbed to the build. It came in a rush, hard and fast. My toes curled as the sensation swallowed me whole and I orgasmed on Brody’s lips, moaning his name and praising the angel who’d blessed him with such a gifted tongue.

  The aftershocks shook my limbs as he stood but the sound of his belt buckle loosening snapped me out of my sated stupor. I cracked my eyes open and propped up on an elbow as he worked the buttons on his shirt with practiced efficiency. He tugged it free from his slacks and whipped it off his arms.

  Brody’s body was mouthwatering. I hadn’t appreciated it enough the night of the wedding. His stomach was made of perfect squares, the definition between them crisp and lickable. His arms were honed to perfection, muscle upon muscle. The veins beneath his skin bulged. I’d be tracing those little lines later with my tongue.

  My eyes drifted lower, taking his body in with a slow perusal.

  “Sweatshirt.” He jerked his chin. “Off.”

  I sat up and stripped it as fast as I could, not wanting to miss the show as he shoved down his pants and the white boxer briefs beneath. They slid off his thick legs, the muscles as defined on his lower half as they were the top. I’d study them later because right now, my gaze was fixed on his swollen cock. The velvet shaft was hard and long, the tip decorated with a pearled drop.

  Brody came into the bed, taking me deeper into the pillows. Then he dropped his mouth to my throat, his breath fluttering there before he took a deep inhale.

  “You smell like flowers.”

  I hummed, closing my eyes as the heat from his bare skin warmed mine. Brody smelled like spice and earth. It was a clean scent, rich and robust, like the man himself. A scent I missed when I went too long without a pull.

  He was an addiction. I’d had no trouble giving up wine or lunch meat or soft cheese during this pregnancy. But if someone asked me to give up Brody’s scent, I wouldn’t be able to do it.

  In all these months, I hadn’t let myself believe that the night of the wedding had been anything more than sex. A one-night stand. Except it had meant more, hadn’t it? Not just because of the baby, but because Brody was . . . special. Lasting.

  “Will this be okay?” He leaned back with concern in his eyes. “Sex?”

  “For the baby?”

  He nodded.

  “It’s fine.” I wrapped my legs around his ass, raising my hips to brush my soaking center against his erection.

  Brody hissed, his jaw flexing as he closed his eyes. “If I hurt you—”

  “You won’t.” I urged him closer. “Come inside.”

  That sharp jaw flexed again, like he was fighting for control, then he positioned himself at my entrance and slid deep.

  My breath hitched when the root of his cock pressed against my clit. My back arched off the plush bed and my fingertips dug into the skin at his shoulders.

  “Fuck, you feel good.” He dropped a line of open-mouthed kisses across my chest, right along the swell of my breasts. “So good.”

  “Move.” I gripped his arms, holding tight as he slid out and rocked us together again.

  The night of the wedding, he’d fucked me. Hard. The next morning my core had ached from the power of his thrusts. But tonight would be different. We both needed it easy. With the baby, this wasn’t a rough and rowdy tumble in his sheets. This was the slow savor. The steady climb.

  Stroke after stroke, Brody glided us together. He never gave me all his weight, careful to hover above my body. His thrusts were full of the same grace he held in every movement. The roll of his hips. The firm press.

  My God, he knew how to give pleasure. My breaths turned to pants. My toes dug into the comforter. My hands gripped its gray cotton, squeezing it as my inner walls fluttered around Brody.

  “Aria,” he whispered into my ear. One of his hands dropped to mine, threading his fingers between mine and raising it above my head. He pinned it to the headboard, then did the same with the other.

  “You’re so tight. So wet.” His hands held my arms there, his fingers tight to mine. “Come, baby. Come for me. Come while I fuck you.”

  The naughty words shot straight to my pussy and I exploded, crying his name as I lost control. White spots exploded in my vision. My legs shook and my arms, still locked above my head, pulled hard against Brody’s locked grip. Through my release, his hips never slowed, and when I dared open my eyes and return to earth, his green gaze was waiting.

  “That was . . .” Brody’s throat bobbed. “Beautiful. God, you are beautiful.”

  I tipped my hips, drawing him deeper into my body. “Your turn.”

  He moved, faster and faster, still using care. Then his lips crashed down on mine, my taste lingering on his tongue, and he kissed me until his release came over him and he poured himself into my body.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to mine as he came down from the rush. Then he twisted, rolling to his back and taking me with him.

  I collapsed on his chest, struggling to regain my breath.

  A lock of hair was in my face but my arms were too weak to push it away. I huffed a breath, trying to blow it free. When that didn’t work, Brody tucked it behind a
n ear for me.

  “Should we talk about this?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “No. We should sleep.”

  Tomorrow there would be time to talk. Tonight, I only wanted to rest.

  And not think about the fact that we might have just ruined everything.

  “Oh my God.”

  The words woke me from a dreamless sleep.

  I sat up, remembering just in time that I was naked in Brody’s bedroom. I clutched the sheet to my chest and blinked the fog from my eyes. Then I squinted at my sister, who stood in the doorway to Brody’s bedroom.

  “Clara?” My voice was groggy and my head fuzzy. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, doing a double take at the time. Eight thirteen. When was the last time I’d slept past five?

  “I was just looking for Brody.” Her eyes stayed fixed on the floor. “We always meet at eight. I didn’t see him in the office and the door was open so . . .”

  Beside me, Brody stirred. “Bump it to nine.”

  “Okay.” She spun around too fast, nearly colliding with the doorframe as she scurried down the hall.

  I fell back onto a pillow. Brody’s was the most comfortable bed I’d slept on in my life. Maybe that was why my internal alarm clock had taken the day off, even though I couldn’t.

  I was due at the flower shop to meet Marty when it opened at ten. It was taking some getting used to, not arriving at work before dawn. The hours would get longer as I learned more, but for the first week, I was easing into my new routine.

  Today, he was introducing me to the bookkeeper who’d come on to do the accounting after Brody had purchased the shop. Then we were going to do a walk-through of the store and prioritize redecoration.

  But first . . . there was a man in my bed.

  Or I was in his.

  “Now should we talk about this?” Brody asked. His eyes were still closed, and he was hugging his pillow. The sheet had fallen low, nearly to his ass, and the strong, wide plane of his back was on full display.

  The responsible decision would be to discuss this and agree on how sex would or would not fit into our relationship.

  “No.” I whipped the covers off and kicked my legs over the bed. Then I stood, hurrying to tug on my sweatshirt and pull on my leggings. “Later. I need to get ready for work.”

  And I needed to think this through.

  Without another word, I tucked my bedhead hair behind my ears and aimed my feet at the door.

  “Aria.” Brody’s voice stopped me before I could disappear.

  “Yeah?” I turned.

  He’d sat up. His hair was mussed, his face sleepy. But his eyes were alert and commanding. “See you at dinner.”

  I nodded, then ran.

  By a miracle, I managed to avoid Ron when I walked through the kitchen but the smell of bacon told me he was close. Escaping to my side of the house, I thought I was home-free when my bedroom door came into view—until I walked in and found my sister sitting on the bed with a smirk on her pretty face.

  My face flushed and I kicked the door closed behind me. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “You’re all . . . smug.”

  “I’m not smug.”

  “Then you need a mirror.” I walked to the bed, plopping down beside her. Then I covered my face in my hands. “This is a disaster.”

  She giggled. “Dramatic much?”

  “I had sex with Brody.”

  “Duh. You’re pregnant.”

  “Last night, Clara.”

  “I’ll repeat. Duh.”

  I swatted at her as she laughed. “You’re not helping.”

  “What do you want me to say? I love you. I love Brody. When you two are in the same room, the sexual tension is so thick I’ve nearly choked on it for the past ten years.”

  “What?” I sat up. “Nu-uh.”

  “Please.” She rolled her eyes. “It was only a matter of time before you realized you don’t really hate him the way you want to hate him.”

  I frowned. “You’re a pain in my ass.”

  “And you love me too. This could be a good thing. You’re having a baby.”

  “Exactly!” I threw my hands in the air. “What if we try this and fail? What if we truly end up hating one another? I don’t want my child in the middle of that.”

  “But what if it works? What if . . . what if you can give your child the life that I can never give August?”

  My heart twisted. “Clara, you’re a good mom. The best.”

  “And you will be too. Even if it doesn’t work, Brody is a good man. You can navigate this.”

  I blew out a deep breath, leaning into her side. “I don’t know what I’m doing. With men. I haven’t had many in my life. And any guy I’ve slept with was a guy I dated. Brody was my first hookup.”

  There were reasons why I was so selective when it came to lovers. Reasons why I was careful with who I let touch my body. Reasons I wouldn’t let myself think of today or talk about with Clara.

  I wouldn’t drag her back to that place.

  Four lovers. That was the extent of my experience. My first had been a man I’d dated in Vegas. He’d taken me on eight dates before I’d given him my virginity. I’d dumped him before date number nine because I’d been so mortified by my fears during sex.

  As different boyfriends had come and gone, I’d worked through many of those fears, but they still lingered. It was difficult for me to give up control of my body. To surrender it to a man.

  Until Brody.

  Brody beat back the anxiety when it came to sex. There were no insecurities with him. He made it easy to relax and enjoy. Maybe because he oozed confidence and authority. Every touch was deliberate. Every caress solid. There was no fumbling, and in that surety, he made me feel safe.

  Last night, and the night of the wedding, he’d given me everything I’d needed to shut out the noise and just . . . be.

  “He’s not who I thought he was,” I whispered. Beneath the cement and glass exterior, there was a big, beating, beautiful heart. “What would you do?”

  “Trust him,” she answered without hesitation. “Give him time. He’s learning too.”

  Trust him. At least Brody had always been honest with me. There were no secrets. No lies.

  I could trust him.

  Clara and I sat together in silence until she had to go meet Brody for her meeting and I had to shower before going to the shop.

  I drove the Cadillac into town, not ready yet to concede that the BMW Brody had bought was a really nice car. After a fun day with Marty, soaking in his wisdom and imparting some of my own, I returned home.

  It hadn’t been easy to ignore thoughts of Brody at work, but I’d tried. When I walked in the house and his smell hit my nose, I knew with one breath I was in trouble.

  So instead of meeting him for dinner like he’d expected, I stayed in my bedroom, watching the clock tick away until dinner. My stomach growled but I didn’t move. Cowardice was a different look for me and one I suspected wasn’t all that becoming.

  What did I say? Did I want a relationship? Did I have the energy to nourish this baby and give attention to anyone else? What if Brody thought it best we return to platonic cohabitation?

  The last question scared me the most.

  Because it would hurt. More than I wanted to admit. If Brody rejected me, that was going to freaking sting.

  An hour passed as I lay on my bed, my eyes trained on the ceiling as the anxieties flourished like a freshly watered tulip. The sun was setting outside, casting the pool with its glow.

  Shifting one ear into a pillow, I studied the colors as they faded. Blue to yellow. Yellow to orange. Pink to red. I did love desert sunsets. Bright and beautiful, I found myself on the back patio often, watching the colors shift over the dusty horizon.

  In the mornings, I’d venture outside to watch the desert bloom. Years of visiting Clara and I hadn’t timed a trip in the early spring, probably because
March was always a hectic time at The Gallaway, planting for the season. Boy, had I missed out.

  It was just beginning, but soon, the wildflower super bloom would carpet the rugged landscapes in pinks and yellows and purples. Clara had told me it was beautiful, but even now, at the beginning, words hadn’t done the spectacle justice.

  The spring desert was truly breathtaking, and it was only the start.

  When I’d stopped wanting to hate it here, I’d fallen in love.

  “You missed dinner.”

  I flinched, sitting up with a jolt.

  Brody stood in the doorway with one ankle crossed over the other. His feet were bare, his jacket and tie gone. His shirtsleeves were rolled up and the buttons at his throat were undone. Just like last night. And just like last night, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

  “I wasn’t sure if dinner was a good idea,” I confessed. “I wasn’t sure what to say.”

  He pushed off the door and walked into the room. Then he climbed on the bed, lying at my side. “I’m not sure what to say either.”

  “Really?” I propped up on an elbow. “You always seem sure.”

  “Not always. Do we have to decide now?”

  Clara’s advice had been to give him time. And here he was, asking for it too.

  So instead of worrying, I leaned closer and brushed his lips with mine.

  “No. I guess we don’t.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Brody

  “I have to go.” I kissed Aria’s bare shoulder as she combed her wet hair. She wore the towel she’d wrapped around her body after her shower. A shower I’d missed because I’d been in my own bathroom preparing for what would likely be an exhausting day.

  “Have a safe trip.”

  “I will.” I kissed her shoulder again, then took a long look at her in the mirror.

  My God, she was gorgeous. If we had a girl, I hoped she looked exactly like Aria. If we had a boy, I wanted him to have her bewitching eyes.

  “I think I’ll tell her.”

  The comb in Aria’s hand froze. “Are you sure?”

  “Would you mind?”

  She shook her head. “We can’t keep this a secret forever.”