Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(43)

Even now, he craved her body like an addiction. It had begun almost immediately, the relentless ache to get back between her thighs. See how far she’d push him next time. He’d never been driven so far outside of his own consciousness as he’d been with his cock tucked tightly inside of her. He’d never considered himself someone who enjoyed delayed gratification. Now? Delayed gratification, party of one. Your table is ready. Christ, he’d come like a speeding freight train. It had felt so damn unbelievable that it almost hurt. What happened afterward, the spanking…well, he didn’t really have an explanation for that, except that he’d wanted to punish her for making him feel so incredible. Where was the logic in that?

Logic didn’t apply to them, he supposed. They’d been two opposite magnets that suddenly switched poles and were now compelled toward the other. When it came to their physical connection, the differences between them didn’t matter. They only heightened the experience. If he applied logic to their situation, he’d probably conclude that they were wrong for each other and the ridiculous sex was a product of months of foreplay. That’s what the fighting had been. He recognized that now. He’d been goading her toward his bed since day one and thank Christ it had finally worked. Otherwise, he’d be missing out on the best sex of his ever-loving life.

So, enjoy the sex and keep it simple, right? No messy commitments…right? Yet the thought of limiting their relationship to a physical diversion made him all kinds of antsy. He didn’t want to limit them. He wanted to hear her say the words, that she was his. His to fight with. His to soothe. His to f*ck. No one else’s. Hayden, however, didn’t appear to share his interest in the idea. Good thing he never turned down a challenge. Especially when she looked like some kind of mussed-up sex kitten in her clingy dress, hair tangling around her thoughtful face, lips swollen from his treatment of them, from their unbelievable treatment of his cock.

Brent released a slow breath. One battle at a time. Get her talking, ease the tension you created by speaking too soon, jackass, and then worry about getting her back into bed.

“So…Beaches, huh?” Brent cleared his throat. “What is that, some kind of chick flick?” Of course, he’d seen Beaches. Bette Midler was a national treasure. He’d keep that to himself though, in the interest of her not questioning his masculinity.

A brief flicker of humor shone in her eyes before she hid it. “No, it’s a buddy cop movie. You would love it. Action-packed. Definitely no singing.”

Brent nodded, pretending to take her seriously. “I’ll add it to my Netflix queue.” Unable to help himself, he took her hand. “And if you come over and watch it with me, I promise not to sing along to ‘Wind Beneath My Wings.’”

Her momentary pause over his impulsive hand-holding turned into surprised laugher. The kind that made his chest tighten. “You’re so lucky your boys weren’t here to hear that.”

“Who do you think performs duets with me?”

She pursed her lips. “Normally I would say Daniel, but Matt could be a potential dark horse.”

Kind of like him and Hayden. For so long, they thought they had each other pegged, but it turned out they hadn’t even scratched the surface. She’d never seen it coming. “So Beaches…a classic piece of cinema, but a weird thing to think about while witnessing a marriage proposal.”

She glanced sideways at him, then sighed. “I guess I was trying to remember the last time I cried.”

Brent held his breath, afraid he’d open his mouth and some boneheaded comment would emerge, ruining this rare glimpse under her surface.

“I’d just gotten my tonsils taken out and I was too doped up to get out of bed and find the remote,” she said. “Beaches came on. Complete with commercial interruptions. I was helpless to escape it.”

Brent laughed. “How old were you?”

“Fifteen.”

He pulled her to a stop. “You haven’t cried in a decade?” She looked uncomfortable and he wanted to take back his shocked question. “Wait. What about chopping onions? That counts.”

Her mouth relaxed into a smile. “Then I guess it’s only been a few weeks. Bette Midler and onions are my Kryptonite. What’s yours?”

I think it might be you. He swallowed. “Sports movies. When the underdog comes back after halftime to win. I can’t keep it together during the coach’s obligatory halftime speech and then it’s a rapid decline into wuss-hood.” He thought for a moment. “Also, brownies. My mother’s, specifically.”

“Brownies.”

He nodded once. “Don’t judge me until you’ve had one.”

They walked for a while after that, until he pulled her to a stop at the wooden rail so they could watch the ocean, illuminated by the neon signs behind them. Their arms touched and he barely resisted the urge to pull her close. Too much too soon. “What’s it like having your parents in the same neighborhood?” he asked instead.

“Exhausting.”

Brent watched as she turned serious, then considered him closely for a moment as though she couldn’t decide why she’d suddenly decided to be honest with him. He couldn’t decide either. Only knew he wanted her to keep going.

“They’re my parents, they’ve done everything for me. But…it’s complicated.”