20. Jami
Jami
I duck into the bathroom and splash cool water on my face, bracing my hands on the sink as I try to steady more than just my reflection. My pulse. My thoughts. My heart.
Pizza.
The fact that Brody ordered pizza—without being asked, without making a thing of it—wraps around my chest like an invisible band, pulling tighter with every breath. It was such a small thing. And somehow…everything.
He’s right about one thing. I do like giving myself over to him. Letting him take control. Letting my body respond without thinking. But this—this is different. He isn’t just taking care of my body.
He’s taking care of me.
And I have no idea what to do with that.
I turn off the tap and blink hard when my eyes sting.
Maybe I’m just tired. Maybe I’m overwhelmed.
Or maybe—terrifying thought—I’m touched in a way I haven’t been in a very long time.
No guy I’ve dated has ever really cared about what I needed.
Not in the quiet moments. Not in the bedroom. Not anywhere in between.
Not that we’re dating.
My stomach growls, the sound embarrassingly loud, and a laugh slips out before I can stop it, chasing away the tears.
“Get it together,” I murmur. “Breathe, girl.”
I drag in a deep breath, filling my lungs, grounding myself. But my mind betrays me, replaying that hungry kiss, the way he looked at me like restraint was a choice he was actively losing.
What is it about that man that absolutely destroys my self-control?
I snort. Self-control. Please. I have none when it comes to Brody.
The bathroom door creaks open, and the second I step into the hall, I stop short. Brody is coming out of his bedroom, looking warm and relaxed and devastatingly real in gray sweats and a flannel shirt.
“Brody,” I say, my voice betraying me as my gaze drifts, lingers. “Did you…?”
He steps closer, close enough that I could reach out and touch the soft flannel stretched over his chest. “I was getting comfortable too,” he murmurs.
His eyes drop to my mouth, and something electric snaps between us.
“You look—”
“Snack-a-licious?” he offers, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.
I laugh, helplessly. “I was going to say like a big fat snack, but yeah.”
Grinning, his hands settle on my hips and he backs me up until my spine hits the wall. Heat floods through me at the feel of him—solid, strong, everywhere. Exactly like every fantasy that’s haunted me since that night.
“Brody…”
“Yeah, Jami?”
Instead of telling him what I want, I show him. I rise onto my toes and kiss him, reaching for the buttons at his shirt. His rough growl vibrates against my mouth and suddenly I’m airborne.
He lifts me like I weigh nothing and heads for my bedroom, my legs locking around his waist, my hands fisting in his shirt. I kiss him like I’m starving—tasting, claiming, losing myself—because once again, with Brody, I don’t want control.
That should scare me. I almost want it to. But it doesn’t.
He slams the door shut behind us, the sound echoing through the room as he lowers me onto the bed and follows me down without hesitation.
There’s no careful choreography—just hands everywhere, breath everywhere, urgency colliding with want.
Clothes disappear in a clumsy rush, laughter and groans tangling together as skin meets skin.
I push on him and he rolls to his back. I kiss a path down his throat and brush my lips over his chest, his nipples.
His strong heart hammers beneath my mouth, and it does something crazy to me.
I’m suddenly worried that this isn’t just about desire.
It’s about need. The kind that settles deep and refuses to be ignored.
Working to do just that, my mouth travels lower, and I tug down his sweats. His gorgeous hard cock juts out and I grin up at him.
“Is there something you need, Brody?” My voice is needy, breathless even to my own ears.
He inches up, and cups the back of my neck. His gaze holds mine, the teasing gone. “You,” he says simply. “I need you.”
I stare at him. Never have I felt so wanted.
I suddenly can’t breathe and he cups my neck tighter, and like he knows exactly what I need to hear him say.
“Mouth on me, Little Birdie. Put your pretty lips around my cock and suck.” The power shift sends a thrill straight through me. “Can you do that for me?”
I urge him onto his back and trail kisses along his stomach, following the line that leads to his cock. As my mouth explores, my fingers trailing, he inhales sharply, his hands tighten in the sheets.
My heart pounds faster, a thrill going through me as I work my mouth over him, loving it, which is crazy, because I’ve never really loved this before.
I cup his balls and he curses, and grips the back of my hair, tangling his fingers through it, so he can take control of my pace. He holds me still, his hips coming off the bed, so he can feed me his cock, and this time I’m the one moaning with pleasure.
“Like that, babe? You like sucking my cock?”
I mumble around his length and he chuckles. I take him deep, moving my head back and forth and then he tugs on my hair, lifting me from him. There’s a new kind of intensity about him when I meet his gaze, and my heart jumps.
“Lay down,” he orders in a soft voice. “I need my mouth on you.”
I nod emphatically. “Okay.” I settle on the bed, my head sinking into the pillow as my nerves fire. Brody stands, takes his cock into his hand and strokes as he gazes at me. I watch the way he pulls, the way he dips into his pre-come and I swear to God, my ovaries are seconds from exploding.
He drops onto his stomach, slides his hands under my buttocks and lifts my sex to his mouth, claiming me. That first touch of his tongue sends my thoughts into outer space and I moan and fist the bedsheets.
“Brody, that is…”
I open my eyes to find him watching me—really watching me—with an intensity that makes my pulse stutter.
“Delicious,” he murmurs, the word rough. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
And in that moment—when the joking fades, when the teasing falls away—I realize how completely, easily I could lose myself in this man, and again that should scare me.
“You do the same to me,” I admit honestly, and it gives him pause.
He reaches up, lightly cups my cheek. “Aww, Little Birdie. Are you a mess too?” I nod, and his look is warm, tender, before turning his attention back at my sex. He lightly pets me. “I want to be in here. Tell me you want that.”
“I want that.”
“Will you come all over my cock?” he asks, his voice low, deep…tortured.
“Yes.”
“I need to get a condom, but I can’t leave here.” He licks me again, and my heart studders.
Should I?
Before caution can take hold, I touch his hair, weaving my fingers through the soft strands. “Brody, I’m on the pill and I’m clean.”
He doesn’t speak. He just stares at me, and I go still. Should I not have said that? Did I cross a line?
“Brody?” My voice wavers, and I begin to sit up.
His hand gently presses down on my stomach to stop me, his eyes darkening with something I can’t quite read. “Are you sure?” he finally asks.
“I am.” It’s crazy, but when it comes to Brody, I really am sure.
“I’m clean too,” he tells me. “I haven’t been with anyone since…”
“Me?”
He nods and that shouldn’t make me ridiculously happy. He looks at me, like he’s waiting to hear about my sexual escapades since him.
There were none.
“The last guy I was with…” I begin and the muscles along his jaw clench, the fingers stroking my sex going still. “It was this lumberjack.”
There’s a new kind of intensity about him as he climbs up my body, pressing me into the mattress under his weight. The groan that escapes me is a mixture of need and raw desire. I love the way he restrains me, how he gives me freedom by taking charge.
“You really got a thing for lumberjacks, huh?” His lips find my shoulder, teeth grazing lightly, and I shiver.
“They’re snack-ish,” I tease, biting lightly into him in return. His laugh rumbles through me, a vibration that makes my chest hum.
“I guess I’d better be careful wearing flannel around you.”
“Are you saying you didn’t wear that shirt on purpose?”
He gives me a sheepish grin and instead of answering, his mouth finds mine. This time, the kiss, it’s softer, deeper, an exploration of something more. I rake my hands down his back, my legs widening, opening for him, welcoming him into my body…just not my heart.
Nope, can’t do that.
He pushes into me and our groans mingle.
Our bodies move together, creating a rhythm as we touch, explore, our pace a little slower this time.
In no time at all, my brain shuts down, nothing but pleasure stealing all my focus.
He pushes, and I rise up to meet him. A quick angle of his body, his groin teases my clit with every downward thrust and I glance between us, loving the way I’m soaking his bare cock.
Never in my life has skin on skin felt so good.
His breathing changes, so does mine and his hips jerk quicker, his groin hitting harder.
He pistons forward, his crown hitting my cervix, his groin now grinding my clit, and when he grabs my hands and pins them above my head, his hard chest rubbing against my breasts, the trifecta pushes me to the edge.
“Brody, yes…”
“Fuck, I feel you.”
My body bursts and my hot juices spill from me, coating his cock as he slicks in and out of me. I find his mouth, our lips linger, as we each gasp for breath. I ride out the waves as he struggles to hang on, wanting to wring every thread of pleasure from my body.
“Babe, you’re so wet.”
I clench one last time around him and he groans. “I need to feel you,” I tell him. “Come for me, Brody.”
He dips his head, his teeth grazing my neck as he pumps once, twice and then goes still inside me. His head goes back, his eyes pinched tight as pleasure explodes through his body, and I love that look on his face, love knowing that I could do this to him.
“Babe, you are incredible,” he murmurs, his mouth returning to my neck.