A soft sigh escaped her when his soft lips touched the sensitive spot below her ear. “Whatever you want to,” she whispered.
She felt his grin against her neck. “Are you sure you want to give me that free pass?”
“Oh, yes.”
NINETEEN
THE MOON HAD LONG SINCE disappeared behind some thick, wayward clouds, leaving the night sky, and Elisa’s room, oppressively black. Brody didn’t mind the darkness or the quiet. It gave him time to think, time to clear his head and categorize his thoughts. Otherwise they were a jumbled mess he could scarcely make sense of. Yes, the peace was always welcome after a chaotic day in a busy restaurant.
Only Brody didn’t have peace now.
What he had was torment and indecision, which was unlike him.
Part of that was due to the situation with his ex-wife. The other part was because of the woman sleeping naked and deeply next to him. Or, rather, on him. Half her body was draped across his, with one of her arms tossed over his midsection with her hand resting on one of his pecs. He liked her there. She fit perfectly snuggled up against him, like two missing puzzle pieces that were now complete.
She completed him.
Shit, that sounded like it was a line out of a freakin’ girly movie.
Earlier she’d asked him why he’d come. He’d given her as honest an answer as he could. Hell, he owed her that much. Especially since she was obviously in love with him, and Brody couldn’t bring himself to admit the same to her. Because he was a fucking coward.
He was also weak. As soon as Elisa had opened her front door, he’d known it wouldn’t be a quick in-and-out, no pun intended. No, his body had instantly responded to her, as had his heart. He’d needed to have her again because it had been too damn long since he’d felt those slick muscles clamp around him.
But, man, had the wait been worth it. After dragging her down the hallway and into her bedroom, he’d gotten himself inside of her as fast as humanly possible—which hadn’t nearly been fast enough. He’d all but ripped her clothes off her body and had barely given her time to catch her breath.
At first, he’d felt guilty for the lack of finesse. But after seeing the satisfied grin on her face when he’d slid into her, the guilt had dissipated, along with any thought of tomorrow.
Her breathing had been fast and labored after he rolled off her. Their bodies had been coated head to toe with sweat because of their exertion. He’d trailed the tip of his index finger down her slick belly, then pulled her limp body into the shower.
“Brody…” she’d protested in a tired voice as he turned the faucet to steaming.
“Hush” was all he’d said.
The next several minutes had been spent with Elisa’s back pressed to the tiles, her legs entwined around his waist, and him filling her again and again. Over and over he’d surged up into her until she’d sobbed for him to stop, that she couldn’t take anymore. Only after her third orgasm did he show mercy on her. He’d shut the shower off and carried her boneless body back to bed. Within seconds she’d been sound asleep, with her still-damp hair fanning across her pillow.
It had been the most euphoric moment of his life. Sex with Kelly had always been satisfying, but never like that. That had been mindless, frivolous, and fucking phenomenal.
Except now he couldn’t sleep.
He didn’t want her to leave. Or, more important, he wanted her to come back. But she wanted to know of he’d be here waiting for her. If Tyler ended up leaving… then, plain and simple, no. He wouldn’t be here. And he was pretty sure Elisa already knew that. The fear had been tangible in her eyes. However, he couldn’t bring himself to confirm her fears. There was a good possibility that whatever they had would come to a quick end. The thought just about ripped his heart in two. He’d finally found a woman who’d captured his heart, and he wouldn’t even be able to keep her.
He needed to enjoy what time they had, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop thinking about its inevitable demise.
On the upside, things at the restaurant were going well. The sous-chefs had pulled off a damn miracle by cooking, to perfection, for the newspaper’s food critic. The woman had had no idea that Anthony hadn’t been the one to prepare the dishes. She’d beamed and said, “Outstanding,” as her plates had been carted away. Brody had almost kissed the sous-chefs in front of the entire staff. They’d saved his ass, and everyone else’s as well. The woman’s article was to appear in next Sunday’s paper, and Brody would be on pins and needles until then.
They also needed to pull off the catering job for Avery’s fundraiser. His sister-in-law kept reassuring him everything would be okay, that she had complete faith in him—and Anthony. So did Brody, but anything could go wrong. There were a thousand variables that could end in disaster for them. Unfortunately Brody still had several weeks to sweat in his own anxiety.
For most of the evening at work, Charlene had glared at him and told him to chill out. She kept saying that he was dragging down her good mood, and that was one thing she would not put up with. He’d told her to get over it, then continued to wander aimlessly around the kitchen, looking for something to do.
For the most part, Brody was waiting for the other shoe to drop, because the other shoe always dropped, no matter what. With everything that was going well with the restaurant, Brody had a hard time believing it wasn’t going to explode in his face, as it always did. It seemed things were finally clicking into place, but was it too good to be true?
Nothing had ever been in sync with him. Something had always been off. When things had gone well at work, his marriage had been shit and eventually imploded. Now that things at work were good, his personal life made him want to take a semiautomatic weapon and blow shit up. Just for the hell of it. Then, after it seemed like things were going well with Elisa, Kelly had come along with her big-ass fucking wrench and had overhanded that thing right in the middle of everything.
Never in sync.
For just once he’d love to clear all the thoughts out of his head and not think about anything.
And sleep. He could really use a good night’s sleep.
Elisa shifted on him, bringing her leg farther across his and burying her head in his neck. She smelled so damn good. Like everything a woman should smell like—all girly, flowery stuff. It screwed with his head and made his thoughts even more of a mess. But he welcomed it. She gave him enough of a distraction to stop thinking.
Before long, his eyelids were heavy enough to drift closed. They didn’t stay that way for long, though. As soon as he shut everything out, his cell phone rang. His cursed, mother-effing cell phone that he had placed on the nightstand next to him for emergencies and shit.
Brody thought about ignoring it, or maybe throwing the thing across the room. But a call this time of night could never be good, and he had an eleven-year-old to think about. Brody used his arm that wasn’t buried underneath Elisa and grabbed the device.
“What?” he demanded after bringing the phone to his ear.
“Hey, man, were you asleep?” his brother Chase asked.
“I’m not anymore. What’s up?”
“RJ just called me. Courtney was in a really bad car accident.” The strain and concern in Chase’s voice had Brody sitting up in the bed.
“Shit,” he muttered. “How bad is she?”
“All RJ told me was that she was critical and they’d already rushed her into surgery. I’m on my way to the ER right now. He asked me to give everyone a call.”
Brody scrubbed a hand down his face and forced his brain to focus. “Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”