Pleasure With Purpose (6 page)

S
he turned on her heels with a flip of her
hai
r, in a very uncharacteristically
diva-like manner he saw as all show, as a way to hide her anger, her nerves. It also gav
e
hi
m a
vie
w
o
f
he
r
ve
r
y
round
,
ver
y
perfec
t
butt
. Heat rushed through him, heat quickly turning to a raging fire. Battling for
self-contro
l
an
d
complet
e
lust
,
h
e
clenche
d
hi
s
teeth.

Afte
r
severa
l
steps
,
sh
e
turned
,
stumblin
g
slightly. Instinctively
,
h
e
move
d
forward
,
reachin
g
fo
r
he
r
a
s
she
wobble
d
precariousl
y
o
n
he
r
too-hig
h
heels.

Sh
e
trippe
d
an
d grabbed his shirt. Brad's hands slid around her waist,
pulling
her upwards,
tryin
g
t
o
sto
p
he
r
fro
m
breakin
g
a
n
ankle.

“
Ohhh,
”
sh
e
said
,
a
s
sh
e
steadie
d
herself
,
he
r
voice
frustrated
.
“Dam
n
thes
e
shoes.
”
Then
,
he
r
eye
s
lifte
d
t
o
his,
an
d
the
y
stare
d
a
t
on
e
another.

H
e
coul
d
fee
l
he
r
sof
t
cur
v
es pressing against his body,
an
d
hi
s
hand
s
begge
d
t
o
move
,
t
o
slid
e
dow
n
he
r
wais
t
and
cu
p
tha
t
perfec
t pert little
butt of hers
.
Hi
s
eye
s
wen
t
t
o
he
r
mouth
.
God
,
he
wante
d
t
o
kis
s
her
.

Slowly
,
he
r
finger
s
ease
d
o
n
hi
s
shirt
,
her
palm
s
flattenin
g
o
n
hi
s
chest
.
He
r
bod
y
seeme
d
t
o
inc
h
closer.

H
e
starte
d
leanin
g
towar
d
her
.
No
t
consciously.
Instinctively. His mouth inched
towar
d
hers
,
eye
s
hal
f-
closing
wit
h
th
e
anticipatio
n
o
f
th
e
firs
t
brus
h
o
f
lips.

“
Brad.”

I
t
wa
s
th
e
sof
t
pur
r
o
f
he
r voice, the reminder that this
wa
s
Heather
,
tha
t
shoo
k
hi
m
t
o
hi
s
senses
.
H
e
pulle
d
back,
hand
s
goin
g
t
o
he
r
arms
,
stil
l
awar
e
enoug
h
t
o
stead
y
her.

Accusingly,
he d
e
mand
e
d, “Wha
t
's going on wi
t
h you,
Heather?”

“
Yo
u tell me,” she whispered. “What’s going on with me?” Her bottom lip trembled, and her pretty pink tongue slid over the delicate skin.

A
rus
h
o
f
adrenalin
e
sho
t
throug
h
hi
s
veins
. A
small
par
t
o
f
hi
s
mind
, a
fa
r
of
f
piece
,
sai
d
h
e
woul
d
b
e
sorr
y
i
f
he
acted on his desire.
Th
e
res
t
o
f
hi
m simply didn’t give a damn. Without a conscious decision to do so, his hand laced through her hair, the other sliding to her lower back, molding her closer. And then he kissed her. First a soft drag of his lips against hers—that he told himself would be it, the end. He’d pull away, he’d stop himself from going too far.

She moaned at the contact, her fingers laced behind his neck, her chest pressing into his, and "too far" was not even close to "far enough." His tongue pressed past her teeth, stroking hers with a deep, hungry caress. The taste of her flooded his mouth, his body, and it was his turn to moan. He pulled her closer, molded her tighter against him, drinking her in, with the thirst of a man who’d waited a decade for water.

And with every passing second, he promised himself jus
t
on
e
mor
e
secon
d, just one…more…second. And another--one more second. S
h
e
taste
d
s
o
sweet
,
s
o
perfect
,
he
couldn'
t
see
m
t
o
remembe
r
anythin
g
bu
t
th
e
moment
.
He
wante
d
he
r
naked
,
beneat
h
hi
m
,
thos
e
lon
g
leg
s
wrapped
aroun
d
hi
s
waist. I
t
woul
d
b
e
s
o
eas
y
wit
h
onl
y a
fe
w
piece
s
o
f
lac
e
between
them
. Heather. Heather…

Shit.

What
in the hell was he doing?
He had to stop kissing her. Now. So why was he still kissing her? He tore his mouth from hers, pressing his hands to her arms, and setting her back from him. “
I'
m
sorry
,
Heather
. God. I’m so sorry. I
don'
t
kno
w
wha
t
cam
e
ove
r
me. T
his was a mistake. My mistake. I take full blame.”

Her expression flooded with hurt a second before she turned away from him and snatched the robe from the ground, keeping her back to him as she slipped her arms inside and tied the sash.

Brad scrubbed his jaw. Damn, he was doing nothing but screwing up here. “Heather--”

She barely glanced over her shoulder. “I think you should go, Brad.”

“
No, I--”

“
Please,” she said. “Please go.”

He’d never felt so helpless in his life as he did in that moment. He’d hurt her. He’d said and done all the wrong things. He didn’t know how to fix it–and all he could manage to think of doing was pulling her into his arms and stripping that damn robe right back off of her.

“
I’ll call you later,” he finally said. “We’ll talk. We’ll make this right.” He had to make this right. He had to make sure he didn’t lose her over a damn kiss, over his weakness, his mistake. But she didn’t turn around, she didn’t speak, and damn it, he wanted to go to her, wanted to fix everything he’d just broken. But he knew when to retreat and regroup, and he knew he wasn’t thinking straight.

With effort, he forced himself to turn away from her, and rushed toward the door. Running away. He never ran away. But as the hot Dallas night air rushed over him, he knew that was a lie. He’d been running from his feelings for Heather for far too long, and they’d caught up with him.

Chapter Five

Near nine on Friday evening, Heather walked toward her car behind her boutique. Nearly a week had passed since she’d melted in Brad’s arms only to have him call her a "mistake." Since Heather had ignored his calls, and had both prayed he wouldn’t show up at the store again–and prayed he would. She was conflicted like that where he was concerned. Conflicted and hurt, and for most of the week, right back under her non-orgasmic rock, trying to pretend she didn’t have needs or wants. She’d refused future "man hunting" excursions despite Brenda’s protests, though she’d secretly decided sexier lingerie and higher heels were new indulgences she planned to maintain. Tonight, she was going to indulge as well. In a pizza and an entire bag of chocolate she’d bought at lunch. She hit the clicker to her car and reached for her door.