Chapter Five
. . .
I could dry hump a newel post.
The cool air from inside the house hits my warm body, making goose bumps break out on my skin, and I gasp. Brody glances over his shoulder at me, still not saying anything as he guides me into the kitchen.
Somehow, inside, I feel more naked than I did outside.
I’m on the balls of my feet, scurrying behind him as he walks with purpose, but all I can focus on is trying to escape.
“You really don’t have to do this. I can totally take care of this myself.”
Again, he says nothing.
I’d say it’s annoying, but I’m distracted by how broad and muscular his back is because his shoulders just tensed before he rolled them back.
We walk into the expansive kitchen, and I look around, a little bit like a tourist. I haven’t been in here yet.
The ornate detail on the backsplash behind the stove has my attention as Brody lets my hand go, leaving me to stand next to the sink.
“Wait here.”
A man of few words. Got it.
I’ll just take the aloe, say thanks, and make my way to my room. Easy.
Which set of stairs should I take, I think to myself, because we passed one coming in, but I see another off the side of the kitchen.
I’m knee-deep in planning an escape route when I hear a crack. My eyes find Brody, who has walked a few feet away to a potted plant on a windowsill. He’s broken off one of the thick stalks.
That’s not a bottle of aloe…
He turns and grabs a knife off the counter before making his way back to where I’m standing.
That’s not a bottle…
I watch as he places the green plant on the counter and uses the knife’s tip to slice it open from end to end. The inside glistens and oozes as he peels it open.
His thick fingers work swiftly, and I’m mesmerized.
We may be standing in silence, but a lot is going on here. A lot of indecent thoughts on my part. Because I have, in fact, fully committed to being indecent.
He runs his two fingers up the middle of the stalk, opening the center wider, and I shiver.
I have to get out of here…
I open my mouth to say just that, but I don’t get a chance, because Brody yet again beats me to the punch.
“Turn around.”
My eyes spring wide open.
“What?”
He looks at me like he doesn’t plan to repeat himself. But he should because there’s no way. He is not putting that on me himself.
My thought is cut off as he spins his finger, directing me to turn around.
I shake my head, then reach out to take the plant from him. But Brody pulls it back and looks at me like I’m crazy.
“You can’t see where you’re putting it.”
He looks annoyed to have said it, and that makes me uncharacteristically argumentative.
“I’m pretty sure I can spread it around just fine without looking.”
His finger circles again. “Around.”
“No.”
His jaw tenses before he slowly crowds my space, forcing my hands to grip the counter behind me as he looks down at me.
Holy shit.
“Are you always this stubborn when someone’s offering you help? Or do you just want me to say please?”
I swallow hard because a minute ago, I would’ve snapped back, stating that offering help doesn’t require me actually needing it.
But the please part is doing something to me.
Something wet and warm, because he doesn’t strike me as someone who says that.
I blink up at him and try to sound braver than I feel, considering I’m trapped by his massive frame.
“I don’t even know you.”
“You know I like to take outdoor showers.”
I bite my lip as my eyes almost pop out of my head. Dear god, he knows.
Brody smirks. “Stop making this weird. Just let me help you. Turn around.” He leans in closer and whispers in my ear, “Please.”
How I manage to keep my whole body from shuddering, I couldn’t say, but I do it. He barely steps back, giving me room to obey, and despite being a reasonable and rational person, I do just that, slowly glancing over my shoulder as my body shifts.
But if I needed a reason to validate this insanity, the satisfied look on his face would do it.
Brody takes a step closer to me, bringing the spliced plant leaves down to my backside.
“This might be cold.”
I barely get out a nod before I feel the slimy texture against my rump. More goose bumps bloom, so I look at him over my shoulder again. Our eyes meet.
I’m fully aware I’ve entered the hypersexual part of desperation, but I swear, even under normal circumstances, this would feel erotic.
He slowly runs the gel-like slime up and down my ass, each swipe slow and methodical. His Adam’s apple bobs, and I blink. The room feels smaller somehow too. Like we’re in a bubble.
He licks his bottom lip before he glances down at what he’s doing.
“You’ll need to let it dry before you put clothes over it.”
His voice is deeper, more husky.
I nod, briefly letting my mind wander over the idea of him squatting down and blowing over my skin to dry it.
I’m sure the tension I’m feeling is only felt on my side, but it’s still overwhelming, so I try to relieve it as I look away.
“I’m scared to ask…but what did my sister say about me?” I bite the inside of my cheek before I add, “You said she never stopped yapping.”
He switches sides with the aloe as he speaks. “She told us how great you were. All about you guys as kids. In her defense, there was a lot of downtime in Hawaii. Opening a new retreat always leaves room for long, tired nights after setup.”
I’m momentarily pulled from my more illicit thoughts.
“So you guys met in Hawaii?”
“Yeah. She and Scottie are pretty well-known for their tantric yoga sessions, so it was a no-brainer to bring them on board when we expanded out onto the islands.”
I cock my head, glazing over the tantric yoga part.
“Oh. So you guys own these retreats?” I suddenly remember my sister telling me how it was a global company. They’re so young. “You’re a baby. How old are you?”
He’s silent, so I look over my shoulder to see him still staring down at my ass before he glances up with a deadpan expression.
“How old are you?”
I smile sheepishly, realizing what I just said. Great. I’m really going out of my way to literally make an ass of myself today.
“Sorry. That was rude of me. Age doesn’t dictate success. And you’re not a baby… I mean, look at you…”
I do look. My body even shifts, ever so slightly, so I can have a better view still keeping most of backside to him. Which is a problem because now there’s depravity in my head again.
Except it doesn’t stay in my head.
“You’re so built and like smooth…” The moment I say it, my eyes spring open, my head immediately lifting.
“I mean.” Fuck. My mouth’s dry. “What I mean is, you’re in great shape.
But I’m not interested…because I’m a woman.
” I shake my head quickly. “Not that you date girls or children. Jesus,” I rush out.
“I’m just saying I’m old. Well, not old-old, but like too old for you. ”
My hand slaps over my mouth. It’s my last-ditch attempt to shut the fuck up.
I feel the slickness leave my ass as he sighs and says in a deep baritone, “You’re done.”
Brody places the plant on the counter before reaching up and tugging my hand away from my face.
And it’s like a dam breaks. “Not that I think you’re interested.”
He raises his brows, so I add, “Sorry.”
The hole I’m digging is getting so deep that I may actually never see the light of day again. Time to go.
Full of nervous energy, I spin around, but my backside almost smushes against the counter. Almost because Brody’s palm lands at the small of my back, stopping that from happening.
He holds me in place, looking down into my eyes.
“I said to let it dry.”
Our bodies are so close I can feel heat emanating off him.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”
Even after I say it, he doesn’t let me go. We just stare at each other in silence, and my heart rate begins jumping to an unreasonable pace. This can’t be heart-healthy.
Regardless, I’m frozen, my chest inches from his perfectly built body. The body I called smooth. Moron.
“I should go,” I whisper. “But thank you for the assist. And sorry again…”
I mean to slide away, but Brody holds me in place, his fingers pressing dominantly into my waist.
“Stop apologizing and let me answer your question.”
What question? I can’t remember anything that I said other than “built” and “smooth,” but I nod anyway.
“Twenty-eight. That’s how old I am.” My lips part, but he doesn’t let me speak. “And you’re forty.”
He only pauses for a beat, as if he’s debating what to say next, the muscles in his jaw working, before he floors me.
“You’re divorced. Your ex is a dick. And you’re from the East Coast.”
I frown, not because I disagree but because I can’t believe Moon told him my life story. Yes, I can, actually. She dies later.
He smirks, and it looks good on him. “She didn’t tell us you were quirky and funny. Or really fucking beautiful. Kind of a perv and a bad liar.”
What the fuck. My head is spinning. But he’s not done.
“Margot, let’s get one thing straight. I like older women…and yes, I’m flirting with you.”
He’s flirting with me? No way. I was in middle school with braces playing the saxophone when he was born. Bitch, that doesn’t matter. He likes older women.
Holy shit.
Brody steps back, giving me space to try and collect myself before he grips the side of his tatted neck.
“You can breathe now.”
Nothing but a whoosh of air comes out of my mouth. Because my lungs have emptied out of pure shock. But I’m nodding as I blink a bit quicker. Heat spreads over my cheeks, and I bite my lip.
This is unexpected. What do I say? There’s no playbook for this. I’m out of my depth. Unprepared.
I’ll need three to five business days to process and plan.
I clear my throat. “Um… Thank you for that information shared within this kitchen—”
Oh my god, I’m saying words, but I’m not sure what they mean or if I’m even saying them correctly.
I sound like Kristen Wiig in Bridesmaids when she was trying to speak Spanish, saying “Gracias, para vivar en la casa.”
“—I am going to think about that with my brain…as I go…”
Granted, it’s not the coolest thing to say, but a twenty-eight-year-old man just told me he’s into me after rubbing fresh aloe on my ass. This is all I got.
“See ya later, Margot.”
I know my feet are moving backward because I’m staring at his grin as he watches me walk away, but I don’t feel like I’m present in my body.
“Yep,” I answer immediately, adding, “See me later.”
Wait, did I just invite him up for tonight? Was that a booty call? I don’t know what the kids do.
“I mean around,” I toss out, trying to casually fix my blunder. “See me around. Or not. Whatever you’re comfortable with…”
He’s still grinning as he crosses his arms, watching me flounder. So I give him a little salute before I spin around to power walk away. But before I make it out of the room, Brody’s voice hits me in all the right places.
“And burn the suit.”
My face whips over my shoulder to see him staring at my ass, that damn jaw working overtime again, before he adds, “I don’t give a fuck if Wells likes it. That ass stays out of sight.”
I come on the spot. No, I don’t.
But the sensation that takes over makes me understand why the ladies I used to lunch with were obsessed with sentient-object romance novels. Because as I pass my sister, who definitely saw and heard everything, all I can think is that if I could dry hump a newel post, I would.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I rush out, almost taking two steps at a time before she realizes what I said.
“It’s 11:00 a.m.,” she yells up at my back.
But there’s no way I’m showing my face again until I can guarantee it won’t be beet red.