Chapter Fifteen
Angela
I don’t have a firefighter fantasy or anything.
It’s not the brawn and the throwing people over his shoulder thing that gets me going.
It’s the pure, unadulterated normalcy of him.
The offhand “I was a firefighter” declaration, thrown out there like it’s no big deal, summed it up perfectly.
Brady is just a good, decent guy. It would never occur to him to be anything but a good, decent guy.
On top of all that, he goes the extra mile and actually risks his own life to help strangers.
I feel a connection with him that I’ve never felt with anyone, that I could never even have imagined feeling with anyone. I could never tell him that, of course, but neither can I deny it. And it’s an incredible turn-on.
Never in the history of road travel has ninety miles gone by so slowly.
The sexual tension in the car is as thick as the fog that’s rolled in off the ocean, slowing the initial part of our journey until we’re far enough away from the coast. I watch Brady’s left leg jiggle nervously while his right thumb clicks his steering wheel control to jump from song to song until finally I pick up his phone and select a playlist.
“Really, Ange?” Brady says with quiet frustration when the music starts.
Okay, maybe I was a little mean in choosing the “Get Your Sexy Groove On” playlist so thoughtfully put together by his music app, but hey, it’s all in good fun, right? I just smile and turn up the music as Brady leans his head back and exhales.
As soon as we’re far enough away for the fog to clear, Brady puts the pedal to the metal and gets us back to Dos Torres tout suite.
He doesn’t even bother asking me if he should take me home.
We just go straight to his place. It occurs to me that maybe I should be offended, but the truth is, by the time we were three songs into “Get Your Sexy Groove On,” Brady’s hand is on my upper thigh and I’m wishing I wasn’t wearing tights. So much for good fun.
I’m ready to go right there in his car, but all we do is chastely hold hands as we go upstairs to his apartment.
Once we’re inside, with the door closed and locked behind us, all chaste bets are off.
We’re right back to the wild kissing we did on the beach.
His hands are everywhere, in my hair, on my face, encircling my neck, down to my collarbone and shoulders.
“God, this mouth,” he says in a rough voice as his stubbled face rubs against my neck. “It’s gonna kill me, Angie.”
“I think it’s going to do much nicer things to you than that,” I say, my own voice low with desire.
With a panty-drenching noise somewhere between a grunt and a growl, Brady hoists me up by my thighs.
I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me down the hall to his room, never taking his lips from mine.
It’s not until he has me on his bed that he pulls away.
He sits up on his knees and slowly drags his eyes along my body as I lie there watching him.
My heart is racing, wondering what’s next.
Brady grabs me by the waist and pulls me up so that I’m sitting facing him. He pulls my hair over my shoulder before reaching behind me to untie the halter top of my dress. He slowly pulls it down my body.
“Holy shit…” he whispers as my dress bunches around my hips. His eyes meet mine in a haze of surprise and desire. The small smile on my lips snaps him out of it a little, and he raises an eyebrow. “Forget something tonight, Pines?”
“I don’t wear bras with halter tops, McDaniels,” I say.
“God bless halter tops.”
I unbutton his shirt and push it off his glorious shoulders.
He pulls off the white T-shirt underneath.
“Please tell me you posed for calendars to raise money for your firehouse,” I murmur as I take him in, running my hands down his chest. “It would be a cruel disservice to the community if you didn’t.
” He chuckles as my fingertips trail along his muscled abs.
“You like this, Pines? Everything’s to your satisfaction?”
“I’m not satisfied yet, McDaniels,” I say. “But I definitely see some potential here.”
“I will satisfy the hell out of you, princess. You can bet your ass on that.” He grabs said ass and squeezes it before pulling my dress over my head. He starts to unbutton his jeans when my hands stop him.
“Allow me,” I say.
He swallows. “By all means.”
I unbutton his jeans and pull the zipper down gently, freeing him from his jeans and then his green plaid (of course) boxers.
Oh. Wow.
My hormones undertake a brief but very hostile takeover of my mind and body. Brady’s lips on my skin, his hands on my body, his intense arousal, drags me into a haze of “I’m down for all of it.” By the time I’ve returned to my more rational self, Brady is going for a condom.
“Not yet,” I manage to say, my hand on his wrist.
“Sorry.” He drops the condom like it’s a hot potato. “I thought—”
“Don’t be sorry.” I swing my leg over his hip and nudge him onto his back. “Just relax.”
“I am so far from relaxed right now, princess,” he says, his voice tight with need and desire. “I feel like an animal.”
“Well, I’m about to make you feel like a man, McDaniels, so shut up.” My mouth and tongue trail slowly down his body. His hands gradually fall away from my hair and grip his sheets.
One of the few benefits of being a virgin for the entire seven years of my sexually active life is that I’ve learned how to give a pretty decent blow job.
Guys are afraid to have sex with me, but they’re not afraid to let me go down on them, and they sure as shit aren’t going to risk spilling the beans to their friends afterward.
Defaming the daughter of someone like my father would have the same effect as deflowering her, the logic goes.
So I’ve been free to exchange oral sexual favors whenever I want.
Not like it happens a lot. I’m still mostly untouchable.
“Jesus Christ, Angie,” Brady rasps as my mouth closes around him. I feel his thighs tense on either side of me. His hands are back in my hair, gripping hard. My own body is on fire from his reaction.
Only a few minutes have gone by when his fingers tighten in my hair. “Ange, I’m going to—”
But instead of moving away, I take him deeper and groan so that the vibration will send him over the edge he’s riding.
I coax his release and taste it, savoring it, thrilled that I can make sunny “How’s it going, man,” “Nothing fazes me” Brady McDaniels come undone.
He lies in the bed, breathing hard, his eyes shut as I kiss my way up his body, along his jaw, to his ear.
“Was that okay?” I whisper. He smiles slowly.
“I think you know that was beyond okay.” He wraps his arms around me and hauls me on top of him. “That was like, Olympic-gold-medalist, all-star-MVP, World-Series-level shit right there, Pines.”
“That’s a lot of sports analogies, Brady.” I laugh. His eyes are on mine, moss green and happy.
“Hey, it’s the highest form of compliment.”
“I’ll take it, then.”
His hands slowly trace the curve of my waist and the flare of my hips. “I don’t know anything about you, Angela Pines,” he says softly.
And that’s exactly how it needs to stay, Brady McDaniels.
“You know the important stuff. I’m not a Red Sox fan, and I give good head.”
He bursts out laughing. “Those are definitely the only important truths in life, princess. Nothing else really matters, does it?”
He flips us over so that I’m underneath him, looking up into those beautiful eyes.
The gummy-bear-stealing glint in his eye has returned.
That’s good. I can’t handle serious Brady right now.
I feel completely alone living a life in which no one knows who I am.
And something about Brady tears me apart.
I want to rely on my instinct that I shouldn’t trust anyone, but another part of me wants to tell him everything.
I need to fight that urge, if not for me, then for him.
“You look…unsatisfied,” he murmurs with a small grin. His mouth dips to my neck, sending electricity through my body. Goddamn, but this boy can kiss. Just the thought of that mouth heading south on my body makes me break a sweat. I grip his shoulders, willing myself not to completely lose it.
“Your turn to relax,” he says, removing my hands and placing them up by my head.
I take a deep breath and am just starting to mellow out when his mouth closes on my breast and lightly sucks.
I arch up into him with something between a yelp and a groan.
I grip the pillow, feeling like I’ll tear it apart if I’m not careful.
“See how relaxing that is?” he says. I can hear his smirk.
I groan in pleasure and frustration and wild anticipation.
Then his lips are moving slowly down my body, hot and full of confidence and expertise.
And his hands. Holy shit, his hands. One is splayed along my right hip, and the other one… oh my God, the other one…
“Brady,” I whisper as one of his fingers and then another find their way inside me.
His mouth is just below my belly button, still slowly traveling down my body.
And then it’s right where I want it to be, where I’m dying for it to be.
I’m like a lit firecracker, and it takes only seconds for me to burst into fragments of brightly colored light.
“That was too easy, Pines,” says Brady, kissing the inside of my thighs as I float on a cloud of bliss. “You are too fucking delicious for me to stop there.”
“I can’t,” I protest weakly as he starts to work his magic all over again.
“Sure you can.”
He’s teasingly slow at first, making me see stars as I come down from one high and ascend to another.
He takes his time, getting me more and more worked up until finally I come again.
This time I cover my face with the pillow I’ve been gripping for dear life, smothering my scream.
I feel Brady’s kisses move up along my torso, and then he grabs the pillow out of my hands and tosses it on the floor.
He kisses me on the mouth, his hands on either side of my face.
“I would have liked to hear that scream without the pillow barrier,” he says.
“I’m sure your neighbors would have liked it a lot less than you,” I retort.
“Take a wild guess how much I care about the neighbors.”
I smile and let him wrap me up in his strong arms.
When I first moved here and started preparing for law school, this is not where I had expected to find myself: in bed with the hottest guy in our class, naked, wanting very much to have sex with him but afraid to tell him I’m a virgin.
I know I’m not the only girl to make it through college without losing her virginity, but I know Brady will think it’s weird.
I know it will lead to questions I’m not ready to answer, not because I don’t trust him but because I don’t want to drag him into my shit.
Somehow I’ve gotten myself all wrapped up in Brady—literally and figuratively—and that’s dangerous for both of us.
I need to stick with the plan, but that’s seeming more and more unlikely. My plan, I’ve decided, sucks.