AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He patted his broad thigh, the invitation to climb aboard clear, and my heart stopped.
My breath juddered as I exhaled, taking in the change my suggestion had wrought on Brady. He sprawled across the kitchen chair, the picture of male confidence. Dark hair slicked back, a challenging tilt to his lips, eyes focused wholly on my mouth. Part demand, part invitation, like my words had flipped an internal switch.
In front of my eyes, Brady Gleason had morphed from mild-mannered, proper high school principal to someone who whispered authority of a different kind. Desire washed through me, a tsunami of sensation wiping away my good sense.
As if calculating the meaning behind my hesitation, he crooked a finger at me, his lopsided grin all dare, his dimples playing peek-a-boo with my hormones.
"Ms. Pendleton, I'm ready to make good on our bargain. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to accept something else in return for abandoning your revenge plot."
Why did I get the feeling he was toying with me, that he'd turned the tables, teasing me with what I wanted, hoping to see me break? Provoking me on purpose?
Two could play that game.
I pushed my shoulders back, scooting my own chair away from the kitchen table, albeit without his signature grace. I let one hand trail along the chair back, sliding it as slowly and sensuously as possible along the wooden rail, mimicking wrapping my hand around something else just as firm. Slowly, I released my chair and stalked toward him.
Brady's tongue licked out, whetting his lips as I stepped right, then left, until I straddled his hips. Our height difference meant that for once, I towered above him. His head fell back, arrogance in every line of his face as he perused me from beneath his lids.
I extended my palms to his shoulders, enjoying the firm muscle beneath my fingers. Any hint of softness in him had fled at my touch. Brady held my gaze as I slowly sank down on his lap.
He grunted, just the tiniest sound of satisfaction as my weight settled. His hands welded to my ass, kneading gently, but he didn't attempt to finish what he'd started with his teasing.
The moment swelled, me searching his brown gaze, for what, I didn't know. Part of me was amazed, noshockedat the change in him. The man Brady showed to the public was smooth. Sophisticated. Professional, through and through. But the man before me? He looked nearly feral beneath the slick hair and dress shirt. The body under mine felt like a man used to taking control – strong and firm in all the right places. Yet here he was, at least pretending to be at my mercy, letting me be the aggressor.
Suddenly, I ached to show him how barbaric I could be. Heat flared everywhere we touched. His hands, which had at first been massaging, had shifted, until he tugged us groin to groin, making the evidence of his arousal irrefutable.
Brady Gleason wanted me. And damned if I didn't want him back.
His brown eyes taunted me, bedeviling me into making the first move. He stirred me up until I couldn't decide if kissing him would be surrender or victory.
I'd been foolish enough to suggest a kiss. I had no one to blame but myself for my predicament.
Brady stilled, as if sensing I was on the cusp of a world-changing decision. His focus shifted to my mouth, reminding me that if we both found pleasure in it, there were no winners or losers in choosing to explore.
I leaned in until our lips barely grazed, letting my eyes fall closed to focus only on touch. Brady's lips were whisper-soft at first, slowly shaping my mouth, letting me set the pace. Gentle, almost sweetly, I licked at his lower lip before grazing it with my teeth. Brady took the savage move as an invitation, ravishing my mouth until I lost all sense of anything but him. I let my palms shape his chest, pressing against his hardness, enjoying the strength I found there. Brady cupped the back of my head, helping us find a deeper angle. He kissed me like his life depended on it, and I returned his urgency, stroke for stroke. Our kisses turned from intense to lazy and slow, eventually tapering off until our foreheads touched, allowing us time to catch our breath.
Gone was the proper Brady from earlier. Hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, there was no way he'd pass for Principal Gleason anymore.
Satisfied that I wasn't the only one who'd lost my head, I slowly sat back, breaking our connection.
"For the record, I'm not holding you to a quid pro quo. I just wanted to kiss you," Brady murmured.
His admission snapped me back to reality: Brady and I may have kissed, and it may have shaken me more than I wanted to admit, but that didn't mean I could let my guard down. Him releasing me from my promise gave me the permission I needed to maintain some much-needed distance between us.
Leaning back, I let my glee show, hoping it would hide the lingering hangover from kissing him. "Good. Everything's already at the printers. It would have been a shame to waste all of their hard work."
Brady frowned, the change in him jarring. Gone was the sexy man who'd ravished me in his kitchen. In his place was the stern colleague who demanded perfection.
"Eve?Eve. Tell me you're not serious. You got printers involved?"
The censure in his voice sent a rush of cold trailing the heat.
I peeled myself away from his lap, standing on unsteady legs, forcing a smile to hide the telltale tremble. "Easy, Principal Gleason. Haven't you figured me out yet? I'm never serious."
Not altogether true, but it was easier to play things light than let him know how much his kiss affected me. Keeping things flirtatious between us was for the best. If I treated my attraction for him as a naughty joke, then maybe I’d still be able to laugh when things inevitably ended.
A man who could turn from tormenting me with kisses to stern reprimands in seconds couldn't be trusted. Brady was too hot and cold for my battered heart to hope for anything beyond flirtation.
"I'd better go," I said, grabbing my bowl and rinsing it at the sink before sliding it into his dishwasher. "Thanks for dinner."
