hot, and more than wet in another strategic area.
“Brody,” she said, capturing his head between her hands. He moved up her body to kiss her, his lips and tongue sweet like the syrup.
He cupped her butt and shifted her sideways on the bed, laying her flat under him, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. She was throbbing and ready for him when he entered her. He rolled to his side and she lifted a leg over his hip, giving him deeper access as he thrust into her with quick, fierce movements that made her rake her nails down his back.
She was so close so fast, his syrup foreplay driving her to the brink in a maddening instant. And when she came, he went with her, his loud groan eclipsed by her shattering cries.
He rolled again, this time pulling her on top of him so he could stroke her back and butt. She loved his hands on her, loved the feel of his body underneath her.
She was afraid she was never going to get enough of Brody, that there would never be enough time to get him out of her system.
“I think we’re stuck together,” he finally said.
She lifted, and he was right. The syrup had made both their chests sticky. She laughed. “I guess a shower is in order.”
She climbed off and he led her into the shower, where he showed her another trick or two about his lovemaking prowess. And to prove how utterly decadent she could be on a weekend with Brody, after that they climbed back into bed and made love again, then took a nap.
She decided as he played with her breast and she drifted off into a lazy slumber that she might live in this fantasy forever and never come back to reality.
Because in this fantasy, Brody belonged to her.
And she belonged to him.
Chapter Eight
Monday was an ugly reality, especially since Brody had to bring her to work.
Time had escaped her and she’d lost all track of it in Brody’s arms and in his bed. He’d driven her to her apartment on Saturday so she could grab some fresh clothes. They’d hung out at his house all weekend watching movies, cooking, eating, playing video games, and mostly having the most amazing sex of her life. It was like the dam had burst and she’d let go of everything she’d held back all these years.
She’d never had more fun.
Until his alarm had gone off at five-thirty Monday morning.
What had she been thinking? Her car was still parked at Kent Construction’s office. What if Wyatt or Ethan got there first? She should have had Brody take her back to her car Sunday night. Then she could have gone home and no one would ever know except the two of them.
Even worse, they’d spent the entire weekend so lost in each other, they hadn’t once had a serious conversation about what this had meant, or what it would mean come Monday, when reality set in and they went back to working together.
Obviously, it meant nothing. It was a fantasy weekend, and now everything would go back to the way it had been before. But she’d been in such a sex-induced haze of pleasure and giddiness she’d forgotten to set ground rules, the first and most important being, Don’t Tell Anyone In Deer Lake That We Slept Together.
Now she was in his truck and she was exhausted—though happily exhausted—and Brody wasn’t saying anything and neither was she. Though he didn’t seem tense or nervous as he casually drank his to-go cup of coffee. Apparently she was the only one about to implode.
“You sure you don’t want me to drop you by your apartment for more clothes?” he asked as they drove down Central toward the office.
“No. I’m fine. I grabbed extra when you brought me by my place over the weekend.”
He laid his coffee in the cup holder and took her hand. “I had a good time this weekend.”
She tried not to look out the window, half expecting to see someone peering in at them. “I did, too.”
“You want to stop somewhere for breakfast?”
Was he out of his mind? Someone might see them together and...assume things. “Oh, no. I’m good.”
“How
“Brody,” she said, capturing his head between her hands. He moved up her body to kiss her, his lips and tongue sweet like the syrup.
He cupped her butt and shifted her sideways on the bed, laying her flat under him, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. She was throbbing and ready for him when he entered her. He rolled to his side and she lifted a leg over his hip, giving him deeper access as he thrust into her with quick, fierce movements that made her rake her nails down his back.
She was so close so fast, his syrup foreplay driving her to the brink in a maddening instant. And when she came, he went with her, his loud groan eclipsed by her shattering cries.
He rolled again, this time pulling her on top of him so he could stroke her back and butt. She loved his hands on her, loved the feel of his body underneath her.
She was afraid she was never going to get enough of Brody, that there would never be enough time to get him out of her system.
“I think we’re stuck together,” he finally said.
She lifted, and he was right. The syrup had made both their chests sticky. She laughed. “I guess a shower is in order.”
She climbed off and he led her into the shower, where he showed her another trick or two about his lovemaking prowess. And to prove how utterly decadent she could be on a weekend with Brody, after that they climbed back into bed and made love again, then took a nap.
She decided as he played with her breast and she drifted off into a lazy slumber that she might live in this fantasy forever and never come back to reality.
Because in this fantasy, Brody belonged to her.
And she belonged to him.
Chapter Eight
Monday was an ugly reality, especially since Brody had to bring her to work.
Time had escaped her and she’d lost all track of it in Brody’s arms and in his bed. He’d driven her to her apartment on Saturday so she could grab some fresh clothes. They’d hung out at his house all weekend watching movies, cooking, eating, playing video games, and mostly having the most amazing sex of her life. It was like the dam had burst and she’d let go of everything she’d held back all these years.
She’d never had more fun.
Until his alarm had gone off at five-thirty Monday morning.
What had she been thinking? Her car was still parked at Kent Construction’s office. What if Wyatt or Ethan got there first? She should have had Brody take her back to her car Sunday night. Then she could have gone home and no one would ever know except the two of them.
Even worse, they’d spent the entire weekend so lost in each other, they hadn’t once had a serious conversation about what this had meant, or what it would mean come Monday, when reality set in and they went back to working together.
Obviously, it meant nothing. It was a fantasy weekend, and now everything would go back to the way it had been before. But she’d been in such a sex-induced haze of pleasure and giddiness she’d forgotten to set ground rules, the first and most important being, Don’t Tell Anyone In Deer Lake That We Slept Together.
Now she was in his truck and she was exhausted—though happily exhausted—and Brody wasn’t saying anything and neither was she. Though he didn’t seem tense or nervous as he casually drank his to-go cup of coffee. Apparently she was the only one about to implode.
“You sure you don’t want me to drop you by your apartment for more clothes?” he asked as they drove down Central toward the office.
“No. I’m fine. I grabbed extra when you brought me by my place over the weekend.”
He laid his coffee in the cup holder and took her hand. “I had a good time this weekend.”
She tried not to look out the window, half expecting to see someone peering in at them. “I did, too.”
“You want to stop somewhere for breakfast?”
Was he out of his mind? Someone might see them together and...assume things. “Oh, no. I’m good.”
“How
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