Shameless(36)

Mel always said she had an immediate connection to Cal, like they’d known each other for years. That’s why they eloped after only knowing each other two weeks.

Not that I plan to elope with Brady.

He sighs, and that big chest rubs against my back. Actually, everything rubs against my back.

More. More, I think, embarrassed to be this turned on by a guy who isn’t even conscious.

If I press back, can I chalk it up to my hangover?

The erection slowly grinding between my ass cheeks is obviously short-circuiting my brain.

This is such a colossally bad idea.

“You feel so good, babe,” he mumbles as his hand slides under the thin fabric of my shirt and back up to my breast.

Oh, God, is he awake? Please, please let this happen.

And that’s when I realized what he said. Babe. He called me that last night after the nightmare too.

My stupid heart goes all aflutter.

His big, calloused hand slides over my sensitive skin, dragging over my tortured nipple, and I moan. My heart is racing, my panties are having a meltdown, and I’m panting.

When I don’t think I can stand it any more, I take a deep breath, preparing to turn around and slide on top of him when he… he… snores.

Really?

Goddamn it.





23





Brady





I wake with an erection so hard, it’s f*cking painful. Thankfully, I’m alone, so Kat isn’t here to witness the wood. And if I’m being honest, it’s a distraction from the rest of my life. From yesterday. From the conversation I need to have with my parents about Izzy’s custody. From the woman I’m lusting over but can’t have.

My head throbs, from stress or last night’s alcohol perhaps. I’m wound. Tight. Tension pulls at my shoulders and neck, and as I twist on the couch, every muscle groans.

Jerking off last night to thoughts of Kat was probably stupid, but I haven’t been with anyone in months, and the last thing I need to do is let myself be tempted.

I laugh humorously. She doesn’t even know how tempting she is.

I’m halfway to convincing myself that I need to cut Kat from my mental porn reel when I catch a whiff of her shampoo. I pull my t-shirt to my nose, and sure enough, it’s her sexy-as-f*ck scent, which makes the throbbing worse. Everywhere.

Thoughts of last night flicker in my head. The way she looked so vulnerable when she told me she needed to check on the animals. Like I was going to let her go out alone in a torrential rainstorm.

A powerful urge to protect her fills me when I think about it.

But f*ck, seeing her tremble on the couch after her nightmare? I don’t know if anything will ever wipe that memory out of my head. Holding her felt right somehow. I’m sure that’s what planted the dirty dream in my head.

And Jesus, what a dream.

We were tangled here on the couch when she slid on top of me, tore off her little t-shirt and thrust her tits in my face. I took one perky, pink nipple between my lips and sucked until she ground herself against me.

My dick throbs harder, and I realize I’d better deal with this somewhere a little more private. I glance over at the closed door and then to the wall-mounted clock. It’s still early. She’s probably out feeding the animals. I vow to get my ass out there to help her as soon as I’m done dealing with my dick.

I grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom for a quick shower and a slow-motion replay of that dream. When I’m done and can walk upright again, I get dressed and head for the fresh pot of coffee.

Is it wrong to love a girl for making the coffee every morning? I pour in a little cream and take a sip. Perfection. Strong but not burn-your-esophagus strength.

My eyes land on a familiar Dunkin’ Donuts travel mug on the dish rack, and part of me wants to fill my brother’s coffee cup. He drank it with extra cream, extra sugar.

A deep sadness wells over in my chest. “I miss you, brother.” I hold up my mug, wishing like hell he were here to give me shit about something. Anything.

The back door slams shut, and I turn to find Kat holding the baby, who’s wrapped in a blanket.

Clearing my throat, I ask, “When did you go get Izzy from the MacIntyres’?”

Her eyes dart down with a shy smile. “I didn’t.” She laughs and tilts her arms. A little masked face leers at me.

It’s the f*cking raccoon.

I jerk back, and she laughs harder. “Relax. He’s a baby and he doesn’t have rabies or anything.” So she says. “I found him asleep in the shed. The little rascal found a way in there last night, which is good because we got record rain, which is great for the aquifers but bad for the fields.”

“The aquifers?”

She pushes her glasses up her nose. “Texas gets its water from nine major and twenty-one minor aquifers. Around here, the most important ones are Edwards and Trinity.” She nibbles on her plump lip. “That’s why fracking is such a bad idea. If we contaminate our water supply, we’re screwed. I mean, obviously. But that means even more for farmers than the average person.”

“Fracking? Is that why you were wearing that Frack Off t-shirt when I first met you?”

Kat smiles while snuggling that giant rodent to her chest. He wraps his creepy arms around her neck and makes this weird little snick, snick, snick noise. “Not everyone loves that t-shirt as much as I do.” She strokes the mongrel. “Fracking stands for hydraulic fracturing,” she says slowly, like she’s testing whether or not I want to hear what she has to say.