Never Been Kissed (28 page)

His eyes glittered as they looked at her, and still he pulled away.

“No,” she groaned, her hands trying to grab on to the slick muscles of his back. “What are you doing? Please—”

“If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right, Ashley.”

She was a virgin.

Of course she was, because nothing about her was totally as it seemed. At least for him.

If she was already the most good and innocent thing he’d ever touched, she had to compound it. She had to gild herself with all the beauty he had no business touching.

A fucking virgin.

On some level he’d known she was inexperienced, but it still wasn’t enough to make him walk away. Nothing at this point could make him walk away.

He slid down to the ground again, between her legs. and put his mouth on the tender flesh he’d hurt. He licked and kissed, found the hot spots and the places that made her dance away from him. When she gasped and cried out, when she put her fingers in his hair and held him still, he was fiercely, selfishly glad that he had this moment with her. That it was him making her come. Him using his finger, and another one slowly twisting and pushing inside of her, getting her ready for his cock.

He wanted to make it good for her. So good. As good as it was for him just touching her. Kissing her.

For other people she could be brave and noble. Kind and generous. For him, he wanted her wild. Out of control.

“Brody,” she groaned as he twisted his fingers, finding that soft spot on the inside wall of her. He pressed
and she cried out. He licked her clit, sucked her into his mouth, and he felt her start to fall apart.

He made her come twice, until the muscles in her legs were twitching, until she could take three fingers inside her body without flinching.

After she came the second time, he surged up over her, licked sweat off her beautiful breasts, kissed her nipples, her neck … and finally her lips.

She hesitated at the taste of herself, but he didn’t give her a chance to be shy. He was burning alive and he wanted her with him.

“You okay?” he asked.

“So good.” Her hands slipped along his back where all the sweat was pooling at his spine. Her hips pressed against his and it was all the invitation he needed. He lifted her hips with one hand and slowly thrust into her.

She was tight, so freaking tight. But she was ready, and he didn’t feel her flinch away from him like she had last time. She wasn’t tense beneath him, putting a bright smile on the pain she felt.

No, she was sweaty and panting, her eyes heavy-lidded, her lips pink and raw where she kept biting them.

Good, he thought, nearly mindless with his need to finish this. He braced one hand on the futon, by her ear, and she grabbed his wrist; his other hand he kept under her hips, keeping her as close as he could. They slid against each other, sweaty and uncoordinated. But then she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him higher inside of her. Harder.

He pushed her knees back, slowly thrusting in and out of her until her forehead wrinkled and she groaned.

“More. More, Brody.”

And he had more. He gave her everything, everything he wanted and wasn’t brave enough to put into words. He pushed and he pushed and she pushed back, until he was light-headed and up was down and down was up
and he didn’t know who he was or what point there was to fighting this woman.

He pitched forward, caught himself on his fists. She came a third time, her body tensing up against his, her breath caught in her throat.

One more thrust and he followed her into the darkness.

She woke up wrapped in sheets that smelled like Brody and sex. Her body was full. Lush, swollen. There was too much blood in her veins, her brain made slow by pleasure.

Her lips were sore, between her legs she throbbed and ached, but she stared at the cracks in the corner and smiled.

A wild pulse of memory flooded her—his mouth between her legs, his fingers twined with hers, the bend of his neck as he rested against her, catching his breath.

It had been everything she’d ever dreamed and a thousand times more.

But now she was alone. She could tell by the echoing silence that the apartment was empty.

For a moment, she was exhausted by the thought of the distance he would place between them again. When she saw him next he’d be predictably cold, predictably Brody.

The sting to her heart was not small.

Perhaps she should have held off on the
I’m falling in love with you
stuff.

Ya think?

After showering she got dressed and brushed her hair, all while systematically shelving her fledging romantic feelings. One by one she put them away. She was a realist, pragmatic to her bones.

She might love him, but she was under no illusion that
she could change him. He was going to have to do that on his own. If he wanted to.

And she had her doubts about that.

So resolved, excited but preparing for the worst, she went downstairs to the bar.

He’d been hard at work since yesterday morning, and the wall between the bar and the garage was completely gone. Nothing but stud. Brody was walking armfuls of old paneling out the back door.

He stopped when he saw her.

Amazing what his attention did to her, amazing his stoic, silent face’s effect on her blood and bone and heart and skin.

It wasn’t fair that so much of her wanted to be his.

“Hey,” she said and gave him a little wave. The stupidest wave ever waved.

Brody lifted the hem of his dusty green shirt to his forehead, revealing the slice of his muscled belly, and she looked away, embarrassed. Hot.

“How are you feeling?” Just looking at him reminded her of every touch, that hard push in her body, the suck and slide of his tongue, his mouth—on her breasts, between her legs, the back of her neck.

Inside she shivered and shook.

I feel alive and sad and happy and terrified.

“Fine,” she said. “You?”

“Good. Very good.” He sent her a knowing glance from the corner of his eyes and she felt herself light up like Rudolph’s nose.

Not so distant after all, she thought, so pleased and surprised she had to force herself not to touch him. Instead, she put her hand on the yellow wood of a two-by-four, picking off the edge of a splinter.

“You didn’t wake me up,” she said.

“You were sleeping pretty hard.”

She imagined him watching her sleep and it was such
a nice thought, such a romantic vision, she made herself stop. It was one thing to be in a doomed love affair with the man, but creating romantic visions about him would only get her hurt.

More hurt, she corrected herself. Because pain was already coming her way.

“You know we … ah … we never talked about your dad last night,” she said.

“You were right, the pills were a mess. He’s not eating well. But you didn’t tell me about the cigars.”

“He swore me to secrecy. But I figured if he didn’t come clean, I would let you know.”

“Very diplomatic.”

She did a silly little curtsy.

His lip kicked up and he shook his head. “What are you doing down here?” he asked.

“I’m looking for Sean.”

“He went over to Cora’s for coffee and some food.”

“Perfect,” she said, thinking she could use the same. She pulled her sunglasses and hat from the back pocket of her cutoffs.

“What are you doing?” Brody asked, watching her put on her ridiculous disguise.

“I’m going to Cora’s to talk to your brother.” She crossed the bar and pushed open the front door. It was cloudy and last night’s rain still hung in the air, which made the sunglasses totally unnecessary.

Brody caught up with her, his long legs in a short stride to match hers. “I’ll come with you,” he said.

She ignored the leap in her heart.

“Protection from all the villainous photographers?” She wiggled her fingers and pretended to look behind bushes, making fun of him.

“I just want to come with you.”

She tripped over the edge of the sidewalk, but caught herself before he touched her. The motion made her ribs
ache and she felt her cheeks get hot, not because she tripped, but because she’d decided not to care anymore about what Brody did or didn’t do in regards to her and now that was ruined.

I just want to come with you.

A couple of words, the warmth of his body as they walked into town, and she wanted him to care.

So badly it hurt, she wanted him to care.

Cora’s was going at a steady Saturday pace and Sean was sitting in a booth with a tall cool blond woman whom Ashley had never seen before.

“Hey, Shelby,” Brody said as they approached the booth.

“Hi, Brody.” The blonde’s smile was just a shade above lukewarm. Ashley got the impression that it wasn’t personal, it was just the way she was.

“A coffee break already?” Sean asked, his arm stretched over the back of the booth. A half-eaten omelet, a few stray potatoes, and some toast sat on the plate in front of him. “What am I paying you for?”

“You’re not. But you can start by buying me some breakfast.” Brody helped Ashley sit down beside Shelby and then slid into the booth beside Sean. “Shelby, this is Ashley. Ashley, this is Shelby Monroe, she’s an art teacher for the district and runs an art facility on the edge of town.”

“Art facility,” Ashley said as she shook hands with the woman. “That sounds amazing.” How strange that all of this seemed so okay. So normal. Of course she and Brody would just sit down with these two and Sean would give Brody a hard time and Ashley would ask questions about the art facility Shelby ran.

Sean would crack a joke and they would all laugh. Except
for Shelby, but her eyes were warm and that seemed like it was good enough.

This was what our life would look like if we were here. Together.

What an outrageously dangerous idea—a grenade with the pin pulled.

But if I had more time with him … If he could just get used to being loved. There was no doubt he felt something.

There was a chance, with time, he’d love her back.

“Ashley wanted to talk to you, Sean,” Brody said and pulled the half-eaten omelet away from his brother. He cut himself a bite and then pushed the plate toward Ashley, with his eyebrow raised, offering her some.

She shook her head and Brody went to work on the rest of it.

“Is it about Dad?” Sean asked. “Brody already told me about the cigars. And we’ve got some feelers out for nurses.”

“Actually, it’s about your poker night at the bar.”

“You’re not still trying to do that, are you?” Shelby asked Sean.

“It’s not the failure everyone thinks it is,” Sean said.

“It’s worse,” Brody said and wiped his mouth.

“Does your dad know about it?” Ashley asked. “Those guys he plays cards with?”

Sean blinked. “I don’t know … I guess so. Or maybe not. It’s really only publicized in the bar.”

“And they don’t come.”

Sean shook his head.

“Well, I was thinking, since it’s not a crazy success now, what if you made it … like, a game night.”

“For seniors?” Sean made it sound as if Ashley had suggested a game night for gonorrhea. “They can nurse a cup of coffee for three weeks. I won’t sell any drinks.”

“Hear me out,” Ashley said, getting excited about her
idea all over again. “You’re not making a mint on poker night anyway, and the guys that want to sit in the bar and drink can do it. But if you had tables set up for poker and bridge …”

“Bridge?” Sean asked. “Bridge is not sexy.”

“Not everything is sexy.”

“My bar is.” Sean winked and Ashley and Shelby shared a groaning glance.

“I think it’s a good idea,” Brody said and the whole table’s incredulous attention turned to him. “But do it earlier. It’s slow on Thursday afternoons.”

“How would you know?” Sean asked.

“I have eyes.”

“There’s no money in it,” Sean said.

“Ed’s lonely,” Brody said. “Bored.”

“Since when do you care if Dad is lonely?” Sean asked quietly.

“Since now. I think you should give it a try.”

“You know I’ve been thinking about doing an art class for seniors,” Shelby said. “But most of them don’t drive and the Art Barn is too far away for many of them to walk.”

Transportation, she hadn’t thought about transportation and it seemed like a giant piece of the puzzle.

“Surely someone in City Hall could help us figure out a way to do some of this stuff,” Ashley said.

“City Hall is pretty strapped,” Sean said. “The city is bankrupt.”

“What about donations?” Ashley asked, but Shelby shook her head.

“The community is just coming out of the recession and the schools do a lot of fundraising already. I’m not sure we can tap the community again.”

“My foundation can help,” Ashley said.

“It’s funny,” Sean said. “I keep forgetting who you are.”

She laughed. “Me too. It’s nice.”

“I can give you the name of the Parks and Rec chair over at City Hall.” Shelby took a napkin and jotted down a name and phone number.

“So we’re not doing a game night?” Sean asked.

“Oh, we’re totally doing a game night.” Ashley smiled at him. “And maybe a dance once you get the garage up and running. It sounds like our real problem is transportation.”

“Fine, but how are we going to let them know?” Sean asked. “I’m not paying to put an ad in the paper for something I’m already going to lose money on.”

“I can make a flyer,” Shelby said. “We just need somewhere to hang it. Somewhere central.”

All four of them slowly glanced around. Two of the three men from Ed’s kitchen poker party were in the back booth, eating breakfast with their wives. “Cora needs a community bulletin board,” Ashley said. “Right by the door. I’ll talk to her about it.”

“I’ll help you hang it,” Brody volunteered. Sean’s startled and suspicious look wasn’t entirely unwarranted. It was strange to listen to Brody offer something of himself and act like it was natural. Even Shelby was watching Brody from the corner of her eye as if the cyborg who had taken over Brody’s body might at any point erupt from his skin.