Addicted to Love (31 page)

His hand crept from her neck and down the hollow of her throat to her breast, heaving with each inhalation of air — a simple but lingering touch that escalated the intimacy between them and felt extremely erotic.

The air smelled rich and earthy. The boat rocked on the water. Time hung suspended, their mouths fused in an endless forever. Brody did not completely understand the spell Rachael had woven over him. He could think of nothing but melding with her.

She wriggled in his lap, her fanny grinding against his thighs. Her quick intake of breath, low and excited in the vast openness of sky and water, detonated his own need, volleying him higher and higher.

She nibbled his chin. The rasp of her teeth against his beard stubble rocketed a searing blast through his nerve endings and he groaned. What a woman!

Brody’s lips found hers again and as they kissed, he raised a hand to touch her breast.

Her nipple poked against the material of both her silky lace bra and her flannel top.

His thumb brushed against her hard little button and she responding by wrapping her legs around his and sliding her bottom against his upper thigh. When he bent his head to gently suckle at her nipple through the material of her clothes, she gasped and clutched his head to her.

No, no, it wasn’t good enough. He had to touch her bare skin or go mad.

Sliding his hand up underneath her shirt, he unhooked her bra from behind and set her breasts free. She moved against him, mewling softly.

Any hesitation she might have been feeling was gone, replaced by a stark hunger that shoved his libido into overdrive. No way could he resist the mounting pleasure, nor the sweet little sound slipping past her lips.

“We’ve got to stop,” he gasped, wrenching his mouth from hers. “Or we won’t catch a single fish.”

“Who cares,” she panted.

“We can’t show up empty-handed,” he said. “This is for charity.”

“Then Judge Pruitt shouldn’t have paired us together.”

“How do you know she paired us up on purpose?”

“For heaven’s sake, Brody, I might be a blonde, but I’m not dumb. Statistically it would be extremely rare for Giada to end up paired with Kelvin and my mom paired with my dad at the same time you and I got put together. She’s playing matchmaker.”

“Actually,” he said, “she was shooting for peacemaker. The theory was that if everyone who’d been feuding ended up in a small confined space for several hours, they’d work things out.”

“Or kill each other.”

He shrugged. “We considered that possibility. Judge Abigail felt like love would win out.”

“So you were in on this all along?” She pushed her hair from her forehead and shot him an assessing gaze.

He just smiled.

“That’s collusion.”

“I knew about the others, but I didn’t know she was going to pair us together.”

“Um,” Rachael said, wriggling away from him. Suddenly his lap felt very empty without her in it. “You can tell your buddy the judge I’m not dropping my anti-romance campaign just because she paired me with a pretty face. Seriously, does she think I’m that easy? Throw romance at Rachael and she’ll cave?”

He feigned shock. “That’s all I am? A pretty face?”

Grinning, she raked her gaze over him and said slyly, “Well, there is the hot body.”

“I’m just a sex object to you.” He shook his head and pretended to pout. He was teasing, but the joke didn’t feel so funny. The idea that she wanted him strictly for sex bothered Brody more than he was willing to let on.

“All that kissing made me thirsty,” she said. “You want some water?”

“Yeah,” he said, his gaze tracking her body as she leaned over to open the Igloo cooler.

Her shirt rode up in the process, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her bare waist. Straightening, she handed him a water bottle and twisted the lid off one of her own.

“As I was saying,” she continued after taking a long swallow of water. Brody couldn’t help watching. God, she even swallowed sexily. “I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. I’m ready to learn how to separate sex from love and I want you to teach me how to do it.”

He stared at her. “What?”

“You. Me. Sex. No strings.”

Brody was not prepared for the invisible blow that suddenly slammed in the general region of his heart. He’d never felt a pain quite like this one, because he’d always been able to detach from his feelings when the situation called for it.

But not now, not with Rachael.

It was as if the regulator valve on his emotions had broken off at the hilt and his feelings were spewing out full throttle.

“You game for a good time?” She slanted him a sexy glance with those exotic green eyes of hers.

His gut torqued tight.
Say yes,
prodded his penis.

He lowered his eyelids, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back in the boat. He sent her a pensive stare while his mind scrambled around trying to find just the right thing to say. “Keep talking,” he said. “I’m listening.”

“You’re considering it?”

“Peaches,” he rasped, “what man wouldn’t consider taking you to bed?”

Her cheeks pinked at his comment and she looked flustered. “If we’re going to have a fling, there’s got to be ground rules.”

“Such as?”

“No compliments.”

“Come on, no compliments?”

“Compliments are romantic. I don’t do romance. Never forget that.” Rachael shook a finger at him.

He made a face, but agreed. “Okay, no compliments.”

“And no pet names. You can’t call me Peaches.”

“But I like calling you Peaches,” he protested. “You’re so sweet and juicy and . . . ”

“Uh-uh.” She held up a hand, shook her head. “That’s a compliment. It’s not going to fly.”

“You’re tying me up here.”

Her eyes sparkled impishly. “Now that’s sexual. That’s allowed.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “Is this your way of hinting that you’re into bondage games?”

“Don’t know,” she said. “I’ve never given it a whirl, but I gotta tell you when I see the outline of those handcuffs in your back pocket I heat up inside.”

He was heating up just hearing her talk about it. He’d never given it a whirl, either, but it sounded like fun. Anything with her sounded like fun. Even if they kept their clothes on.

“Good to know,” he said. “Too bad I’m off duty and my handcuffs are sitting on my bedside table at home.”

“If you had them, you wouldn’t actually use them on me out here.” Her eyes widened. “Would you?”

The game they were playing was making him sweat. “I might,” he said, keeping his tone low, suggestive.

“On the water?” She sounded breathless, her voice high and tight. “In a semipublic place?”

His grin widened and he held her gaze. He saw the shiver of excitement shimmy over her body, felt a corresponding shiver run down his own. Slowly, he nodded.

“But . . . ” she said. “You’re sworn to uphold the law.”

“Law enforcement officers can have a bad boy side, too,” he said.

“How bad?” she asked, flicking out her little pink tongue to run it along her full bottom lip.

The look he gave her was all about sex, not a hint of romance in it. “I could show you right now.”

She leaned closer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Brody,” she said in a husky voice that turned him inside out.

Not only could cops be bad boys, but they could also be very, very stupid. What he did next was on par with the antics shown on
America’s Dumbest Criminals
. He wanted her and not just for sex. He had to have all of her — body, soul, heart, the lot. Because somehow, in some way that he couldn’t fully articulate or even understand, she’d become his deliverance.

She was in his arms again and he was kissing her as if the world were about to end. His fingers were at the zipper of her pants and her hands were threading through his hair as he pushed her back onto the floor of the boat.

The minnow bucket was in the way. Blindly, he grabbed the thing and slung it overboard. He didn’t care about anything except having her.

Oh yeah
, he thought as her zipper sprang open to reveal the swatch of scarlet thong panties hiding underneath.

Helter-skelter, he pressed his lips to her bare skin — her belly, her hand, the inside of her thigh, stripping the pants down over her hips in a frantic free-for-all.

She helped him, kicking the material free until she was naked from the waist down except for her panties, and the boat was bucking crazily on the waves.

“I want you,” she said. “Now.”

Brody rocked back on his heels. He wanted her, too, but not like this. His daydreams had centered on his bedroom, where she had once spent the night. He’d pictured long, leisurely lovemaking sessions, with music on the stereo and a great meal in their bellies.

But that was a fantasy and this was reality, and he knew the only way he was going to get to her was through sex. Because of her disillusionment with love and romance their relationship would have to go ass backward. He had to make love to her first, charm her later.

He could do that.

Right?

He thought of his leg and his self-confidence vanished. He remembered why he daydreamed of making love to her in his bed. Why his fantasies hadn’t been more creative. In his bed, in his house, he could be in control. Of the lighting, of how he positioned himself, of how he’d camouflage his damaged leg.

Out here, in the open, in a dinghy, in the harsh light of day, he had no control.

But looking down at her, seeing the desire for him reflected in her eyes, he decided that control was decidedly overrated and impossible to achieve anyway.

Go with the flow.

She made a soft noise of encouragement, egging him on, pleading with her eyes.

Forget about your damned leg. Think only of pleasing her.

His trembling fingers tugged at the thin scrap of dark red lace, but his eyes were on hers, deeply searching her face.

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

He did. Capturing her mouth, spearing his tongue past her parted lips.

Her breathing grew choppy, urgent, and she fisted her fingers into his chest, balling the material of his shirt in her palms, pulled him down flush against her.

The boat bobbed violently.

Rolling on the water, eyes closed as he kissed her, gave Brody the sensation of falling.

Falling, hell. He’d already fallen and there was nothing he could do about it except find a way to convince Rachael this thing between them was worth taking a chance on.

God, he needed her in the worst way.

He braced his upper body, his forearms pressed on either side of her, holding up his own weight as he stared down at her. He could feel her bare legs against the material of his jeans. The hard metal of his bionic prosthesis rested between her knees.

That realization unnerved him and he moved his leg, repositioning himself. Dragging his mouth from her lips, scooting down, pushing up her shirt as he went, planting kisses down her soft abdomen until he reached those panties barely covering the curl of beautiful blonde hair at the apex of her lush thighs.

When he slid his calloused fingers under her lacy panties, she hissed in an edgy breath.

“Spread your legs,” he murmured and she obeyed, sweetly parting her tender flesh for him.

He slid her panties down her thighs. She shuddered when he trailed his fingers over her silky curves and his breathing went perfectly still. “Ah, you’re so wet . . . ” He almost called her Peaches, but he bit back the word.

“You’re the cause,” she said in a strangled voice. “It’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take that blame.”

“I want you, Brody.”

He raised his head and met her eyes. “But just for sex.”

“Yes.”

That’s what you think.

He bent his head, kissed her down there, where she was wet and soft and smelled so womanly. His fingers played with her slippery heat. She moaned softly and arched her pelvis against his mouth, showing him her rhythm.

But somehow, miraculously, he already knew it. It was as if he’d always known her and what she needed — how hard, how soft, when to use a light touch, when to be firm. Her hungry, gasping cries grew noisier as Brody wound her body tighter and tighter until she was begging for release.

Except he wasn’t letting her off the hook that easily. He kept teasing her, increasing the pressure and pace but each time she was on the verge of coming, he’d back off, let the lull pull her back down. Up and down he went, his mouth learning the landscape of her most intimate terrain.

Finally, she splayed a palm against the back of his head, holding him in place, making him finish what he had started. Brody made a noise of approval low in his throat and in response, she fisted her fingers in his hair.

He licked and suckled, cajoled and kissed. And then all at once, she burst apart.

He felt the tremor roll through her as she exploded for him, over him, because of him.

Her breathing slowed and she lay limp on the bottom of the boat. He was slow to move his mouth from her and slower still to wipe away her moistness with his palm. The glorious taste of her stayed on his tongue. He felt more whole than he’d felt before he’d gone to Iraq.

She’d brought him back to himself again. To the man he’d once been.

A hard man, still horny for her. But his release could wait. They had time. This moment had been all about her. Gently he redressed her as she looked at him through sated, dozy eyes. He pulled up the scarlet panties, worked her legs into her wool pants. He smelled her in his nose, on his skin, all over — the imprint of her indelible.

Chapter Fifteen

W
hile Brody and Rachael were blissfully drifting with the current, Giada and Kelvin were out in the big middle of the lake, surrounded by fishermen. Kelvin was still pissed off about being paired with her. He had a sneaking suspicion Brody and Judge Pruitt had rigged the drawing simply to get under his skin.

If they were trying to rattle his cage, he had to admit their scheme had the desired effect. No one could irritate him faster or more completely than his fishing partner.