just a soft sound, one filled with desire and confusion and frustration.
Leaning forward, he swallowed the next one with his mouth, kissing her again, and then again, his breath catching in an almost painful knot in his throat as he absorbed the gratifying, alluring warmth of her mouth, her hands tightening on him, running over his chest as if she had to touch him or die.
A goner.
He was a complete goner, and he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, falling headfirst into his own seduction. God, it was sweet, sinking into her, feeling her tongue slide alongside his, the scent of her hair teasing him, the feel of her hands gripping him so tight.
Tight was good, tight was fan-fucking-tastic, and going with that, he spread his fingers wide to touch as much of her as he could, knowing that this was a dream, one that he could be deprived of any time, and he wanted to be able to remember this. Wanted to remember every second.
She was tight, toned, but had curves in all the right places, lush, soft curves he wanted to bury himself in, and given the way she arched into him, those whispery pants in his ear, she felt the same. He slid his hand down over her sweet ass and the backs of her thighs, his other skimming beneath her top to the warm, sleek skin of her back, coming around to touch her belly, which was rising and falling with her quick breath.
“Brody.”
He heard it in her voice—she was going to stop him again, and he didn’t want her to. He could tell himself it was because it had been so long since he’d held a woman, but that would be an excuse. It was her.
He couldn’t stop touching her .
He slid his fingers over her ribs and was working his way north as his other hand continued the march on the southern territory, his fingers catching on…
Ah, Christ, yeah, a thong. “God, you feel good, so damn good.” His hands were busy, very busy, and so were hers, under his shirt, too, digging into the muscles of his back…“I want you naked,” he murmured. “Naked and all over me.”
She made a little sound that he decided was agreement, and he actually craned his neck to see where they could do this whole naked and all over him thing. “The desk.”
She followed his line of vision and choked out a laugh, sliding her hands around to his chest. “Oh, no.”
“It’ll hold—”
“No way. Seriously. Don’t even think about it.” But he was thinking and thinking hard. “Brody, listen to me.”
He turned to her. “Oh, I’m all ears. Maddie.”
She gaped at him. “You knew all along?”
“Did you really think I would kiss Leena like that?”
“This isn’t about the kiss.”
“No. It’s about me knowing you. And I do know you. Which is why you need to listen. I’m sticking, okay? Until the bitter end. So you might as well start talking.”
Chapter 8
L eena stood by herself upstairs, staring down at the picture of her and Maddie as little kids. Back then, they’d been equal in strength.
Then, slowly, she’d somehow let her faults run her life—that’s what had happened. And there’d been many. She’d been weak. Selfish. So damned selfish. Yes, she’d stayed with Rick and done his bidding out of habit, and certainly fear.
Lots of fear.
But if she was being honest, then she had to admit all of it. The lifestyle hadn’t hurt—island fun, the gorgeous house, traveling on Rick’s credit card whenever the fancy struck her…all luxuries she’d never have known otherwise.
But there’d been a price for those luxuries, and not just her self-esteem. She’d somehow managed to compartmentalize the bad, but that particular compartment had broken down. She could no longer ignore the facts. She’d screwed up. Made mistakes.
Bad ones.
She’d let herself be bullied into living a life that she never should have lived, and what made it worse was that she had come here to Maddie, expecting her to be willing to pick up and go with a ten-year-old plan, without thinking about what she’d be
Yael Politis
Lorie O'Clare
Karin Slaughter
Peter Watts
Karen Hawkins
Zooey Smith
Andrew Levkoff
Ann Cleeves
Timothy Darvill
Keith Thomson