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It was as if she’d reached in and flipped the last switch.
Brain, off.
Dick, on.
When she leaned closer, he realized she was the perfect height.
She fit perfectly against his body, her slender curves hitting all his favorite spots.
Her mouth was right there. Waiting.
He dropped his gaze, noting the slight quiver in the full, red cushion of her lower lip. He met her eyes again. No nerves there. Just heat. Pure, hot, intense.
Insistent.
“Kiss me.”
“It’s a bad idea.”
“Sure it is,” she agreed, her gaze not leaving his as she leaned in, closing those last few infinitesimal inches between them. Her breath warmed his mouth just before she brushed the slightest whisper of a kiss against his lips.
“So be bad.”
2
GENNA’S ENTIRE BODY was quivering. Nerves. Excitement. Desire. She couldn’t tell which was which. Just knew they were all there.
She stared up at Brody, her entire being engulfed by his presence. Everything was brighter. Stronger. Bigger.
The overhead light glinted blue in the vivid black of his hair as it fell over his forehead, stick-straight strands hanging in his golden-brown eyes.
Her heart beat so hard against her chest she was surprised it didn’t jump right out and glom on to him. She wanted him so much. Breathing deeply, she filled her lungs with his scent. Clean like soap, but earthy. All male. All man.
Her lips trembled so much, she wanted to bite down to keep them still. But she was afraid that might discourage him from taking her be bad suggestion.
She really wanted him to be bad.
She needed him to take over. Because that kiss, that tiny little brush of her lips, that was about the extent of her experience.
“Please,” she whispered.
Ah, there it was. The magic word. Brody closed his eyes as if in prayer. When he opened them, the caution was gone. Instead, he was looking at her as though he was starving. As though he was the big bad wolf, and she was a delicious treat.
His gaze locked on hers, demanding that she watch him kiss her.
His lips were so soft. Tension she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge seeped away as they rubbed over hers. Angling this way, shaping her mouth that way. So wonderful.
Then his tongue slid over the seam of her lips. Wet heat.
Oops, there came that tension again. And it’d brought a whole slew of wickedly enticing feelings with it. They whipped through her body, making her knees weak. Her heart race. And her panties damp.
His lips were just a whisper against hers. Still soft as he seemed to be memorizing the shape of her mouth with his tongue. He was touching only her shoulders, his hands so light she could barely feel them.
But the look in his eyes was so intense, so demanding, that she shivered. It was as if he were promising that she’d have to strip naked and share her every naughty secret. That she do all sorts of things she’d only heard in whispers, read in her favorite romance novels and sneaked peeks at on the internet.
She’d never realized that fear had a sexy edge. That the aching physical lure of it could beckon, even as her mind cautioned her that this kiss, this man, and whatever was coming next, were way, way out of her league.
Then, as if he couldn’t stand the teasing any longer, his tongue swept into her mouth and, thankfully, his eyes closed. Releasing her.
He tasted so good. His tongue was pure power as it slid along hers, teaching her how he wanted her to respond.
Genna moaned, her stomach feeling as if she’d just taken a dive on a roller coaster.
Relieved, she closed her own eyes, concentrating instead on the clamoring of sensations spinning through her body. It was easier this way. It felt safer. As though she could just let go and not worry about what might happen next.
Her hands trailed, whisper-soft, over his chest. He was so hard, muscled but not bulky. Her fingers found a scar, long and rigid. As she wrapped her arms low around his back, she discovered a few more. She wanted to kiss them, every single one. To wish away the hurts she knew he’d suffered. She wanted to make him happy. To make him feel so good, he’d forget about all the bad he’d ever felt.
As if hearing her wish, her fingers—and she swore it was of their own volition—skimmed the waistband of his jeans. The fabric was soft. Worn. And so easy to slip her hand beneath.
His breath caught, the action pressing his hard chest against her aching nipples. He groaned, a low rumble against her mouth, before pulling away.
She wasn’t sure, since her blood was pounding too hard for her to hear, but she thought she whimpered.
“No.”
“Yes,” she whispered back. She wanted to smile, to marshal together a clever argument that’d convince him that this was a good idea. But deep inside, beneath the crush that was driving her past reason, she knew it really wasn’t. Just as she knew he wasn’t going to listen to a thing she said.
Which left only one option for getting her way.
And that was physical.
More nervous than before her driving test, her SATs and opening her letter from Stanford combined, Genna took a deep breath to calm the dragons dancing in her stomach and leaned back a little. Not enough to put any real distance between her and Brody. Definitely not enough to give him the silly idea that they might be done here. But enough for her to reach up, sliding her hands under the heavy curtain of her hair. Her fingers quickly picked apart the bow tying her halter behind her neck.
His eyes wide and worried, Brody shook his head as if he could deny what she was about to do. But he didn’t stop her. Instead, his gaze dropped, watching first her hands, and then the fabric of her blouse, drop to her waist.
Genna bit her lip to stop their trembling.
And waited.
His eyes weren’t worried now. They were hot. Hot and intense and greedy.
His lids lowered, but didn’t hide the sensual gleam. She could see the pulse beating, fast and furious, in his throat. He looked as if he could eat her up in one big, juicy bite.
So why didn’t he?
She’d heard that sexual frustration was a bad thing, but she didn’t think it was supposed to come with a big fat dose of anger.
Wasn’t he supposed to do something? Be so overcome by lust that he grabbed her and took all the choices and moves and decisions out of her hands? That’s how it happened in all the books. Clearly, he needed to read more.
“If you don’t do something, I’m gonna kick you,” she told him through gritted teeth.
“Baby, this is wrong.”
Genna melted. The way he said baby, sort of low and growly, was so sexy and sweet.
“Then show me how to do it right.”
He gave a laughing sort of groan. It was the first time she’d seen him laugh, she realized. The first time she’d been close enough to watch how it made his eyes light, his face look younger. Softer.
Sweeter.
“Don’t you want to touch me?” Taking his hand in hers, she lifted it to her bare breast. His palm was like fire on her skin. Her nipple tightened to an aching point, shooting a swirling shaft of desire straight down to settle between her thighs.
His pupils were so big, they made his eyes look pitch-black. His face was sharp in the shadows. She swallowed hard, wanting to ask if it felt as good to him as it did to her, but afraid to say a word.
Then he stepped closer. His body, hot and damp in the sultry night air, heated hers. A bead of sweat trickled down Genna’s spine.
Eyes huge, nervous, she watched and waited.
As if he was moving in slow motion, Brody leaned forward, his hair sweeping down to curtain his face in black silk. It was so soft as it slid against her skin. Then he took her nipple into his mouth.
Hot and wet.
His lips brushed, his tongue swirled. Then he scraped the edge of his teeth over the aching bud.
Genna cried out, her fingers clutching his shoulders.
Brody sucked harder, his long, sure fingers pressed against the seam of her jeans. Need unlike anything she’d ever felt, more than anything she’d ever imagined, gripped her. Not sure what she was doing, how to quench the tightening demand of her body, Genna swiveled her hips in slow circles against his hand. Her fingers dug into the waistband of his jeans. Then, desperate to feel him, even as she hoped he’d take it as a hint to do the same, she unsnapped his jeans.
Lightning fast, Brody’s hand grabbed hers and his head shot up.
It was like being speared by gold light, his eyes were so fierce. Nerves joined desire to swirl in an uncomfortable dance in her belly.
Genna bit her lip, waiting.
Was he going to stop?
Did she want him to?
Before she could decide, before she could even identify all the feelings bombarding her, he swept her into his arms.
Oh, God. Genna melted, body, heart and all, as he carried her three steps to an old bench-style car seat leaning against the wall.
It was so romantic.
They fell together onto the ratty black surface, with her on Brody’s lap. He immediately rolled so she was underneath him. His mouth took hers again. This time it was harder. More demanding. He wouldn’t let her play passive. He wanted everything she had to offer.
As soon as her tongue ventured out, sliding into his mouth, he rewarded her by cupping his hand over her bare breast again.
She flew higher. His fingers plucked at her nipple. She swirled, stars crowding the edges of her vision. She mewed in protest when his hand left her breast, then purred as it cruised down to her jeans. Her heart stopped, waiting for him to unsnap the denim.
He slipped right past the zipper though, again, pressing tight against her aching core through her pants. The heel of his hand rotated and his nails scraped.
Breath ragged, Genna tried to figure out what was happening to her body. It kept getting tighter and tighter, curling around and around, spinning out of control.
His mouth, so hot and wet on her nipple, moved away. She gasped when he blew on the wet flesh. Then he bit down.
And she exploded.
Lights flashed behind her eyes. Her pants were whimpers now. Her body on fire. She arched against his hand, wanting more. Needing more. Her thighs pulsated, the flesh between them throbbing.
“More,” she murmured as she floated back to earth.
She slid her fingers into his hair, scooping it back off his face. He looked like one of those fallen angels. Too gorgeous to be real, too tempting to resist.
“I want more,” she said again. “I want everything.”
Brody looked as if he was at war with himself.
Before she could find out which side won, though, there was a loud racket by the door.
“Lane? Brody Lane? You here?”
Genna jumped so high, she was pretty sure she bruised her ass when she landed.
Passion fled so fast, it was as if it’d never existed. Panic gripped her belly in a greasy, vicious twist, making her want to whimper. She didn’t have to look toward the door to know who was yelling. She’d heard that voice every day of her life.
Ohmygod. She was so dead.
They were off in the corner, out of view of the door. Were they hidden enough? Maybe if they didn’t move, he’d go away.
Her eyes, wide and blurred by a haze of terror, met Brody’s. His face, so soft and sweet and passionate only moments before, was like granite now. His lips pressed tight, his eyes chips of gold. He looked scary. As though he was taking that threat seriously and about to go to battle for his life.
Genna wanted to reassure him, to say it’d all be okay. That this wasn’t going to be as bad as whatever he was imagining. But she was a lousy liar.
And that hadn’t been an idle threat.
And she was pretty sure whatever he was imagining had nothing on the reality.
’Cause they were seriously dead.
When the knots in her stomach did a sickening lurch from side to side, she closed her eyes and breathed through clenched teeth and prayed she wouldn’t puke all over Brody. Not that he was ever going to want to talk to her again after this. But still, that’s hardly the last impression a girl wanted to make on the guy who’d given her her first orgasm just before her father killed him.
Maybe if they stayed here, didn’t move, it’d all go away. Like the bad dreams she still had every once in a while. She just lay there, eyes closed, and waited.
The silence was broken by the sound of a shotgun chambering a round.
Genna gulped.
