Shameless(50)

31





Katherine





The knock on my bedroom door barely registers until I hear Brady’s voice. “What are you doing?”

I scoot closer to my tiny TV. “Shh. The Lone Stars are kicking for a field goal.” When they make it, I jump off my bed and do a little dance.

I’m mid hip-thrust when I turn to him and stop my celebration. Because seeing Brady watch me gets my attention. His heated eyes wander slowly down my bare legs and back up again. Which makes me realize I’m only wearing a tiny white t-shirt and undies. But I didn’t expect to see him again tonight.

After he helped me put away our Thanksgiving leftovers, he headed to his room, and I went to mine. And now that he’s fixed the temperature in here, it’s almost too warm, which is why I’m wearing the thinnest t-shirt I own.

I pull at the hem of my top before I realize it’s ridiculous. The man had his mouth between my thighs the other day and licked me to an orgasm, for Pete’s sake. Shrug it off, Kat.

Kat sounds like the girl who can walk around in her underwear and not care.

I motion toward him. “What’s up?”

His jaw works back and forth. “Why are you watching the game in here in the dark on that thirty-year-old box? I’m watching it in the office. On the flat screen.”

Turning, I look at the small TV. It belonged to Mel’s father and flickers on and off sometimes, but no matter. Right now, it’s doing its job, so I like it just fine.

I consider his question a moment. “I didn’t think you wanted me there.”

He curses under his breath and presses his palms into his eyes. “Why would you think that?”

Oh, I don’t know. Kicking me out the other night? Not taking me up on my offer to hook up?

Yes, I get that he likes me, maybe even wants me, but I’m not going to throw myself at him while we watch TV. Been there, done that. And something tells me that if I’m in there with him, all alone in the dark, I’m gonna try again, and I just don’t have it in me to get shot down twice. Gracias, pero no. A girl has to have some pride.

Besides, I get the distinct impression he’s firmly placed me in the friend zone, and hearing him talk about me babysitting for Izzy and getting paid only serves as a reminder that I’m his employee. I’m the babysitter. Awesome.

“Brady, honestly?” I blow out a frustrated breath and remind myself that he’s a guy who clearly still has his head up his rear. I decide I can be as obtuse as him. “I’m watching the Lone Stars beat your precious Boston Rebels all up and down the field. Is this really the best you guys can do?”

Placing my hand on my hip, I cock it out. My tiny t-shirt slides up, and I don’t miss his quick intake of breath. I suppose little black lace boy shorts do the trick. Score one for Kat and her slutty underwear. Internally, I laugh. My mother considers anything that doesn’t look like a cotton granny panty slutty.

I stand stock still, my nipples pebbling under his stare, and I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest because I know he can probably see them through the thin material of my t-shirt.

His laughter fills my room as he mumbles something I can’t quite make out.

“Excuse me?” I ask with mock irritation.

His lips curl into a smirk. “I said I’m this close to spanking your ass.”

My mouth drops open. Why those words turn me on, I’m not totally sure. No one has ever spanked me, and I’ve never really understood the appeal. Until now. His big, calloused hand on my ass. Yes, please.

And then I do something very un-Katherine-like. I lift my t-shirt off my backside, making sure he can get a peek as I peer back at the area like I’m considering it. Then I return my attention to him and lift my eyebrow. “Interesting. But you’d have to catch me first.”

We stare at each other a beat before he lunges, and I jerk away, laughing, until we’re both tumbling toward my bed that groans under our weight. And then the big jerk tickles me.

“Not fair! No, Brady!” I squeal.

He pauses, his breath hot on my neck as he holds me down. “Shh. You’re going to wake the baby.” He rears back slightly to look into my eyes and I’m drowning in the depths of his stare.

The conversation we had this week mocks me. Nostrings sex? Bullshit. It’s all bullshit, a little voice inside me screams.

His lips are closing in. Close, so close. And holy mother, does he smell good. I’m pulsing, my whole body throbbing from how he holds me down. He’s big and hard, his weight pressing deliciously along my soft ridges.

And just as I think he’s going to kiss me, the sexy bastard continues his assault and tickles me.

I gulp down a laugh, and his hand rests over my mouth. Mirth and fire and lust all swirl in his eyes as he challenges me to do something about this. So I buck up and push, still laughing, laughing so hard my side hurts.

He’s a big guy and all my bucking does is wedge his strong thigh between my legs. I’m gasping, still wiggling and fighting him, which only makes him yank my arms up and pin them together with one hand.

Oh, God. The throb grows. My panties flood with warmth, my hips lifting on their own accord.

My t-shirt has slid up and rests just below my breasts, which comes to his attention as he tickles my side.

He pauses, his green eyes traveling down my body.