“Mac?” Brady’s voice interrupted my perusal of the space.
“Yeah?” I replied distractedly.
He was standing there watching me, still poised near the cabinet, two glasses in hand. “I asked if you wanted something to drink. Some water? A beer?”
“Oh.” That weird, nervous energy was back, churning in my midsection. “Sure. Water, please.”
Brady stared a moment longer and then gave me his back as he moved toward the refrigerator.
This was dumb. I was being dumb. It was just sex, I chanted inwardly, willing my body to walk fully into the apartment and stop acting weird.
We’d do the deed and be done with this whole thing. We could go back to being archenemies, giving each other shit. Brady could keep up the social media snark, and we’d duke it out during trivia night. Or maybe things would be awkward.
Maybe we’d benothingafter this.
The thought had me taking an involuntary step back, where I bumped into the door at my back.
“You can come all the way in, you know,” Brady called, back still turned.
Spurred into movement by low-level panic and my own cowardice, I slipped off my shoes and moved into the kitchen. I put my bag on the island while Brady filled our glasses from a pitcher.
“I think we should talk,” he said as he replaced the pitcher.
I peeled off my socks and dropped them on the floor. “Talk? Why?” Then I released my belt and slid the leather through the loop in my jeans as my heartbeat climbed into my throat.
Brady turned in my periphery, and I heard the water glasses thunk abruptly onto the countertop. “What are you doing?”
Gripping my sweater, preparing to bring it up and over my head, I said, “Getting this show on the road.”
“Mac,” he protested and made his way around the island in record time.
Brady batted my hands away and smoothed my shirt back down, covering my midsection. “Stop it. I wanted to do that.”
I laughed, somehow less manic with his hands on me. “You wanted to?” I asked, finally meeting his gaze.
All playfulness gone, Brady answered seriously, “Yes.”
Then he circled behind me, hands on my hips.
“I just thought—” My voice faltered as I felt his fingers unbutton my jeans and lower the zipper. “I just thought we’d get down to business.”
Brady left my pants unbound but didn’t move to lower the denim and reveal the lacy thong I’d talked myself into earlier. He brought his hands to the hem of my sweater and toyed with it for a moment before slowly raising it over my head.
“I’m not a get-down-to-business kind of guy,” he admitted, sweeping my long hair over one shoulder.
For some reason, I closed my eyes as his touch unfurled around me.
“I like to take my time,” Brady continued. “Make a detour or two.” I felt his soft lips against the nape of my neck, and I swallowed hard. “Take the long way around and maybe a back road every now and then.”
I sucked in a trembling breath as he traced a knuckle up and down my spine for long moments. Finally, on the next downward pass, he stopped to unhook my bra, like we had all the time in the world instead of just one night.
He teased, “Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay, Mac?”
With my eyelids clenched shut, I stood unmoving, hardly breathing as Brady’s hands and lips traced abstract designs across my shoulder blades and back. He slid the straps of my bra gently down my arms. I heard the sound of the fabric hitting the floor, but Brady made no move to touch my breasts. I felt my nipples tighten and fought the urge to grab his hands and place them firmly on my chest, to end this needless seduction.
But the man was in no hurry at all. He kissed down the length of my arm, encouraging it to bend at the elbow, and then he placed a hot, open-mouthed kiss on my inner wrist. That was a sensitive spot, and I made an embarrassing sound as a result. I felt his lips smile against my skin.
Finally, his palm came to my stomach and urged me back. The bare skin of my back met the soft flannel covering his chest, and the warmth he radiated nearly made me sigh in relief. Lips worked their way up my neck to just behind my ear.
