Page 54 of The Irresistible Distraction

For once, Brody doesn’t give me the quick, glib answer. Instead, he pauses, his voice grave. “I might love it. Perhaps that’s what I’ve always needed, someone with a firm hand who will help me set some boundaries.” His eyes trail down my body, and it’s not until his gaze wanders back to my eyes that he grins crookedly. “Besides, if it ever gets to be too much, I know exactly how to distract you.”

He leans in a little, and even though I told myself just a moment ago that I would stand up to him . . . when Brody’s body crowds into mine, one arm reaching forward until his hand rests on the wall above my head, my entire body acquiesces. I close my eyes, willing myself to ask, “You won’t lie anymore?”

“I did not lie and I will not lie. But to set your mind at ease, I will attempt to either tone down or directly confess any future behavior you might construe as misdirection or obfuscation.” He leans in ever farther, his legs boxing mine in.

I’m breathless, my heart beating so fast I’m certain he must sense it when I ask, “And deliberate befuddlement?”

He puts his lips close to mine and whispers, “That’s my specialty—you can’t possibly ask me to give that up.” His lips graze the bottom of my ear. “So is now a good time for me to claim my kiss?”

Because of how close he is, I can hear that his breathing has become ragged, that as much as his actions tease me, he is also tormenting himself. And this, perhaps, is what makes me give in, winding my arms around his neck, because as much as Brody delights in pushing my emotional boundaries, as much as he loves negotiating, this is not a man who ever . . . takes.

Instead of moving directly to my lips, Brody widens his stance slightly, burying his face against my neck, where I can feel his smile as he unties my dress.

“Your kiss?”

“I’ve been reconsidering your original offer.” Brody pushes apart the two halves of my dress before his hands wrap around my bare midriff, sending small shockwaves through my system even as I feel his breath as his lips travel along my jawline, not kissing, but stopping to nip at my skin every now and again before he finds and then lightly licks at the pulse beating there erratically. He readjusts us so that his legs are now between mine. “Honestly, part of me is tempted to complain that a solitary kiss seems paltry recompense, given everything I’ve done.”

“Backrub,” I remind him, not completely remembering what was bartered and when. Instead, my body arches into his hands as they cup my breasts. Brody tenderly pushes down the thin cups providing me coverage until he’s able to idly stroke my nipples with his fingers before he lowers his head to suck gently, laving each nipple.

“This doesn’t count, by the way, since my lips are not pressing so much as . . . nipping. See,” he says as his mouth comes back up to bite my shoulder lightly, playfully, “while you’ve apparently been figuring out how to read my tells, I’ve been considering the boundaries of what a kiss is and ought to be.”

My hands on his shoulders are bunching the fabric, and even I can’t tell if I’m pushing him away or pulling him toward me.

Both.

Neither?

It’s difficult to think when Brody’s hand is drifting down to my underwear, not hesitating as he slides under the fabric to rest his hand gently against my too-heated, already-wet skin.

I push against his hand, trying to press myself into him as he chuckles. “In particular, I’ve realized that it’s a fun challenge: How far can I get you without kissing you?” One solitary finger slips inside me, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly my eyes squeeze shut, the lewd way I widen my legs without prompting, to give him greater access, my arms tightening around him even as I try to bury my heated face against his neck.

“You’re great for my ego, you know.” He slides a second finger in easily, curving them slightly as I clench around him, nearly whimpering. The wall against my back ought to be uncomfortable but instead seems to provide just enough juxtaposition, something solid for me to find purchase against as I try to lever myself into him.

“Your ego,” I pant, “seems large enough.”

“Just my ego?” There’s a slight break in his voice, a breathiness to his chuckles that tells me he’s every bit as affected as I am. Still, I have to bite my lip to keep from making any further, even more embarrassing sounds as his fingers pump in and out of me. Before I quite realize what he’s about, he’s on his knees in front of me, his five-o’clock stubble grazing my upper thigh before he pulls my panties down my legs. I have to balance myself against his shoulder, legs weak, almost stumbling in my eagerness to help him take off and then discard the thin cotton. In moments, his hands are smoothing the skin up and down my thighs. He doesn’t need to whisper, “Open,” because I am already complying, spreading my legs while I wait for the kiss . . . that doesn’t come.

After an absolutely mortifying second, I open my eyes and look down to see Brody grinning up at me. “Are you—” I bite down on the inside of my cheek, because there is no way for me to finish that sentence without combusting in embarrassment.

“Am I enjoying the view? Absolutely.”

His gaze feels too intimate . . . because it is too intimate. But when I move to squeeze my legs shut, he places his hands gently on the inside of my thighs. His touch is gentle enough that I could fight it, but I don’t. Instead, I find my inner muscles clenching against the open air, the emptiness that is craving more. My legs are almost trembling with the effort it costs me to not react as Brody stays there, on his knees, fingers gently stroking the skin along my legs.

“Though also,” he says, “I’m enjoying plotting my next move.”

He reaches one hand toward me and runs it along my slit, spreading the wetness before he uses his fingers to part me, leaning forward to gently blow against my clit.

“Brody.” My voice is a pitiful half whine, half groan as my hips rock forward. “That’s not very nice.”

“I only have the one kiss,” he tells me. He’s moved so close I can feel the breath from his words against my very center, and I close my eyes again, my hips tilting helplessly toward him, desperate for more.

But instead of kissing me, Brody moves his face forward until he’s resting against my thigh, very lightly biting the skin there. “You could ask for more.”

His finger comes forward again, tracing my folds lazily, even as I can sense the break in his voice.

“That wouldn’t”—my voice catches as he slips a finger inside me—“be very nice of you.”

“Exploit every advantage, remember? Considering how much I paid for law school, I feel obligated to follow their advice.”