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When he reached the apex of her thighs, he put his mouth against her. She was so aroused, so ready that in moments her release crashed through her. She gripped his head, crying out as the spasms went on and on.
Finally she collapsed into a puddle on the sheets, and she tugged on him. “Now, Brody. Inside me now.”
He reached into the drawer in his nightstand and pulled out a condom. Tore open the packet and put it on. Then he slid into her.
They moved together as if they’d been doing this for years, completely in sync. As if their brains were melded along with their bodies. A second climax began building, and Brody trembled in her arms. Holding back for her. “Let go,” he whispered, pressing his mouth to her neck. “I’m right with you.”
Moments later, her climax roared through her. Brody groaned, stilling above her. Then he collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped her arms around him, loving the pressure of his weight.
His breath sawed in and out, as in tune with hers as everything else about their bodies, until he rolled over, putting her on top of him. “Don’t want to squash you,” he whispered.
She pressed a kiss to his mouth, lingering there. Then murmured against his lips, “That was amazing, Brody. So much better than my fantasies of making love with you.”
He eased away from her. “You fantasized about us making love?”
“Of course I did,” she said. “Didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but I thought…”
“What did you think, Brody?” She sat up, her legs over his, and traced her fingers over his chest. “That this was one-sided?”
“You were always so professional when I was in your office,” he said, brushing her hair away from her face. Tangling his fingers in it. “I hoped you felt the same way I did, but you never let me see it.”
“How could I?” she asked, staring at his chest. Touching his flat nipples. “I was married. You were a client.” She looked up at him and grinned. “That would have been very unprofessional.”
“If you felt the same way I did all this time, you could win an Oscar, because I was never sure.”
“I hope you’re sure now,” she said, bending to kiss him again.
“I think I need more evidence,” he said, flipping her over.
* * *
What seemed like hours later, Lainey sprawled on Brody’s chest, catching her breath. Marveling at how everything had changed. She’d never felt like this about a man. Never wanted anyone as much as she wanted Brody.
Lost in daydreams of a future together, of laying in Brody’s bed every night, it took a moment to hear her phone ring from somewhere in the jumble of clothes on the floor. Sprawled on Brody’s chest, she stiffened. Rolled off him and leapt out of bed. “Phoebe!” she said. “I forgot all about her.”
Pawing through the clothes until she found her phone, she answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hey, Lainey, this is Phoebe. I’m finished with my homework. Can you come get me?”
“I’ll be there as fast as I can. Stay at the library. Don’t go home, okay?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not leaving the library. See you soon.”
Phoebe ended the call, and Lainey spun around to Brody, sitting up on the side of the bed. “I need to take a quick shower,” she said. She wasn’t about to pick Phoebe up while she smelled of Brody and lovemaking.
“Use my shower. It’s big enough for two.”
She was already headed toward the bathroom, but she spun around when he followed her. “No fooling around in the shower,” she said. “There’s no time. I need to get Phoebe.”
“No fooling around,” he promised. Swiping his hand down her back, his fingers lingering on her ass, he asked, “Want me to go with you? We could all have dinner together in town.”
Just like a family might do.
With her track record, Lainey should be terrified. Instead, Brody’s words filled her with joy. They sounded right. Perfect.
As Brody reached into his big shower to turn on the water, she studied his body. She’d gotten to know it very well in the last couple of hours.
Just as he’d gotten to know hers.
Now they were heading out to pick up Phoebe and go out to dinner. Everything was perfect.
The anxiety that had taken up space in her brain since Ron was killed came roaring back to the surface.
So did their conversation about money earlier this afternoon. The odd discomfort she’d seen in Brody’s eyes during that conversation.
Was everything too perfect?
Or was a darkness hiding beneath the surface, waiting to devour both of them?
