Chapter 12 #2
The shells are practically weightless, but they’re heavy in my hand.
Each is unique like a snowflake, meticulously hunted and plucked from the sand.
I can’t believe a guy like Brody can see the beauty in something as spiritual as nature.
He saw my face in the sand and I refuse to save his name in my phone.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately.” His fingers tickle up my forearm until he’s grasping my elbow. A trail of goose
bumps sprouts up in his wake as he inches closer to me. So close that the heat of his body grips my breath. The passion between
us is as ironic as it is hot.
It’s been a long while since I’ve been gifted something so thoughtful, and even back then, I didn’t have an appropriate reaction.
Face-first, Brody leans into me, and I fall back onto the bed. A part of me attempts to slip away from his magnetic pull by
retreating to the mattress. But the thought of his body pressed against mine and the weight of him on top of me keeps me in
place, hoping he follows. My eyes dance around his campaign-perfect body. There’s no need for verbal gratitude. My lips will
thank him for the gift in other ways.
Looking up at him I tease, “Why don’t you show me what you’ve been thinking about.”
Brody takes the shells from my hand and reaches across me to place them gently on the nightstand. He stays hovered over me
while I lie motionless beneath the weight of everything I want him to do to me. With the flick of his eye, his face hardens
with an intensity that tells me he’s about to take control just like he did in the Rage Room. He runs his hands along the
sides of my body and up my arms until he links his fingers with mine, holding them over my head. His hands make hell feel
cold.
The more I think about it, the more hooking up with Erik Parker’s son feels like the best revenge ever. Where there’s passion
there’s fire, and I’m willing to play with it.
I lick my lips and look up, daring Brody to do something about it.
I part my legs, letting him position himself between them.
He presses into me and a trembling gasp slips from my mouth.
He takes my face in his palm and kisses me.
He’s soft at first but as I grind against him, his kisses get harder, deeper, rougher.
I pull away long enough to pull Brody’s shirt up over his head. His skin is soft to the touch, but his muscles are firm and
flexed. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before. Like everyone else with an internet connection, I’ve seen the Bare photos. Looking
at him now, somehow they don’t do him justice. They don’t capture the dewy glow of his skin, or the captivating imperfections
of the beauty marks and faint hockey-related silvery scars. I want to trace my tongue against every inch. How will his delicate
skin feel against mine? I need to know. Propping myself up, I cross my arms at the base of my shirt and tug it off in one
swift motion.
Brody immediately runs his hands over my breasts. He kisses along the cup line of my bra while he wraps his arm around my
lower back. He pulls me off the bed and we roll over together. While I’m straddling him, he reaches back, and with a quick
pinch, my bra falls off. Before I can admit my amazement, I’m on my back again with him kissing down my neck. He’s a bit too
good at this.
“Your body is incredible,” he says, pausing to take my breast in his mouth.
I know this is where I should say something nice back. Like nice abs, or your biceps are huge, or how did you get my bra off in 0.001 seconds? But honestly, he doesn’t need to hear it. He’s about to find out how I feel about him right now. His skilled tongue teases
its way down the length of my torso as he makes his descent. With the snap of his fingers, he unbuttons my pants.
“Is this okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” I help him slip them off my hips, sending my underwear to my ankles with them. He presses his hot mouth against my clit and my entire body flexes.
Brody slides a finger inside me, dragging it over my G spot. He found it quicker than he finds the back of the net. I gasp
before covering my mouth with my hands just in time to suffocate a moan.
“You’re so wet,” he says.
“It’s a normal amount.”
I grab the back of his head and guide his mouth back over my clit. He can shut the hell up. Talking about how wet I am, like
I didn’t feel his hard dick against my leg.
Brody presses his tongue against me with hard slow motions while he works two fingers inside me. I no longer have control
over the part of my brain that doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of a loud orgasm. My feet are tingling, and my legs
are shaking as he touches me faster and harder. I press my eyes shut and I moan out in pleasure as I come.
I open my eyes and see the jersey hanging on the chair. I can’t help but laugh manically. I’m no stranger to trouble, but
this predicament is extra, um, sticky.
As Brody makes his ascent, he’s too distracted by the four-inch scar running down my kneecap to notice my euphoric state of
delusion.
“ACL?” he asks.
“ACL and MCL.”
He grimaces, tracing his finger over the long scar. It’s a weird sensation because the incision has no feeling, but everywhere
else he touches me feels like an electric charge.
Before he can ask how it happened, I pull him back up toward my face. “Can I ask you something?” His dark eyes are so intense
that I lose my train of thought.
“What is it?” He kisses my mouth and I want to chicken out.
Instead, we lie down together and I tuck myself under his arm. “My cousin is hosting this local charity thing next week. It’s
educational, for students. No pressure, but does that sound like something the Parkers would be interested in attending?”
I ask. With my cheek pressed against his bare chest, I run my nails up and down his stomach.
“Educational?”
“Nothing too studious,” I assure him.
“I have been meaning to start volunteering more in the Twin Cities.” He hums while mulling over the opportunity. “Sure, count
me in,” he says, sealing the deal with a kiss to my forehead. It’s so sweet that the tummyache is instant.
“Oh, they’ve requested your dad.” I hold my breath.
“Ummm, w-well . . .” he stutters and squirms.
“I don’t mean to overstep. I told my cousin this was a bad idea, but he said the sponsors were hoping to get Erik Parker.”
This is a bad idea; I’m about to push him away completely. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, Brody creates distance between us. Hardly
noticeable physically, but emotionally we’re on the opposite sides of the bed.
Quickly, I add, “You’re more than welcome to tag along with him.”
Brody looks unconvinced as he chews on the inside of his cheek. “My dad’s schedule is really busy,” he says.
“It’s only for a couple hours. He can show up, say hi, and take photos with the students. It’s easy-peasy good publicity.”
That’s how the saying goes, isn’t it? I peek up to see if he’s biting.
Brody lets out a long breath. “You know what, that does sound like something he’d be interested in. I’ll let him know.”
I should be overjoyed, but I feel empty. “You’re the best,” I say blankly. I’m too tired to force any more fake smiles.