Walk On The Wild Side (14 page)

He took her hand in his and guided it to his cock as she positioned herself over him. Her eyelids drifted closed as the broad head of his cock squeezed inside her opening, as she slid down and he filled her almost to bursting in one smooth glide.

It shouldn’t surprise her anymore, how easily he turned her on, how she could be ready to take the impressive length of his cock with no more than a look at his gorgeous naked body and a few naughty words from his mouth.

Yet here she was, almost ready to come and he hadn’t so much as kissed her.

She’d barely completed the thought before he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and drew her down so her mouth could meet his.

He might claim to be unromantic but the way he kissed her, so hot, so hungry, like he couldn't get enough of the taste of her, was more romantic than any roses or chocolates or fancy dinners he could buy.

Molly moaned and rocked her hips. His tongue thrust against hers in a rhythm that matched the surge of his cock inside her. His hands ran up and down her back and sides, up to cover her breasts so he could pinch and tease her nipples as he thrust himself impossibly deep.

His hands and lips seemed everywhere, leaving no part of her untouched. He groaned her name against her mouth, and the sound of it sent a rush of electricity straight to her core.

She cried out and clenched around him, her muscles pulling tight as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable peak. He shifted underneath her and slid his hands to her ass, and a burst of pleasure coursed through her as her clit rubbed against his pubic bone on the next down stroke. He held her there, grinding himself against her as a loud cry burst from her throat and she came, shuddering against him.

“God you feel so fucking good,” he growled against her mouth. “So wet, so tight,” he groaned as he lifted his hips in short, hard thrusts.

Molly watched, mesmerized as his face pulled into a tight mask of pleasure, his teeth clenched and bared almost as if he was in pain. His throat arched back into the pillow as he came, groaning as his cock swelled and twitched inside her.

He pulled her down against his chest, one hand pressing tightly against her back while the other settled possessively on her ass.

He was quiet for several seconds as they both caught their breath. Then he let out a deep sigh. “I keep telling myself it can’t keep getting better, but every time you fucking blow me away.”

“There you go, being all romantic again,” she replied, but there was no denying the thrill of satisfaction that shot through her at his words. She rewarded him with a long, deep kiss. “And believe me the feeling’s mutual.”

His mouth pulled into a lazy grin. “Always knew we’d be good together.”

His silvery eyes glimmered with satisfaction and something else that warmed her to her very core. They were good together. The best.

She felt an odd sensation, like she was falling off a cliff, and jerked herself back from the edge. “Good at this, anyway,” she said, keeping her tone light even as she gave herself a sharp mental reminder not to read anything into his words.

Even if she wanted something more—and she very definitely did not—she knew better than to want it with Brady. A man who promised nothing more because he had nothing more to give.

He reached up and rubbed the space between her eyes. “What’s got you thinking so hard?”

She smoothed the frown from her face and shook her head, not about to share with him that after less than a week of sharing his bed, she was already having trouble remembering that while she was offering up most of her body for him to do whatever her wanted with, her heart needed to stay strictly off limits.

He gave her another soft kiss and excused himself to go to the bathroom.

She really should get dressed and leave, she told herself. Tomorrow was another early morning and she knew if he came back to bed and pulled her against his big, naked body, she wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon.

Not to mention, there was that creeping fear that with every successive orgasm she was going to have more and more trouble keeping things casual.

On her side at anyway. The thought pinched at her chest, telling her that she was already dangerously close to the line.

Then he was back, and before she could escape he was pulling back the sheets and tucking her against him, her back to his front, one hand curved around her breast. Though she could feel his erection already stirring against the curve of her butt, he made no move to start things up again, seeming content just to hold her right now.

It felt good. Dangerously good.

Then Brady spoke. “So is Patrick Tanner your dad?”

Molly stiffened. “Yeah, why?”

“I was just wondering why his name popped up when I used your computer to check my email the other day.”

She pulled away and rolled to face him with a glare. “You snooped through my browser history?”

“I didn’t have to snoop. It was in the search box when I went to log in.”

She mentally cursed herself for being so careless. The computer in the office was used by lots of people, including her mother and Ellie, people she didn’t want to talk to about what she may or may not do with the information she’d found.

Usually she was more careful about clearing her history and covering her tracks, but the last time she’d looked her father up, she’d been… distracted.

By none other than Brady himself. He’d come into the office under the guise of asking her opinion about that night’s dinner special. But as soon as she’d opened her mouth to answer he’d braced his hands on the arms of her chair, covered her mouth with his own, and given her a long, hungry kiss.

“Sorry, just couldn’t go any longer without tasting you.” He grinned as she stared up at him, dazed and flushed and ready to have him throw her down on the desk no matter that she could hear her mom talking outside the partially open door.

She’d left shortly after to go to a meeting with one of her bookkeeping clients, still flustered enough that she hadn’t taken her usual precautions.

“I looked up his address. I was curious.”

“I know he hasn’t been in the picture for a long time. You thinking of getting in touch?”

“Maybe. Not that it’s your business.”

“You’re right, it’s not. I was just curious.”

“I think you’ve already made it clear we’re not supposed to be curious about each other’s family drama.”

She felt him stiffen. “You’re mad about the other night.”

“Why would I be mad?” She sat up and pushed back the covers. No, she wasn’t mad, she was hurt, stupidly hurt that he had shut her down when she’d asked him what was going on.

And she was equally upset with herself and the stupid urge she felt to share all of her conflicted feelings about her father—feelings she couldn’t share with the people she was closest to—with Brady.

“I should go-” she started to rise from the bed, but Brady stopped her with his hand around her upper arm.

“I’ve got some friends who work as private investigators. I could ask them to track him down if you want.”

Molly shook her head. “I already have his address. I’m just not sure I’m going to use it.”

“What does Ellie think?”

“She doesn’t know I found his address. She thinks getting in touch is a bad idea. That we’d just be disappointed.”

“As someone who’s never not disappointed by family, I can see her point,” he said wryly.

“Really? Like how?” she asked, curiosity about him and whatever was troubling him burning in her chest in spite of herself.

“Nothing you want to hear about.” There was a flash of something in his eyes. Anger? Hurt? It was gone as quickly as it appeared.

He started to pull her to him. “Let’s forget about family drama and focus on something more fun,” he said, his expression morphing from grim to playfully lustful so quickly she felt like she had whiplash.

Molly shook her head and pulled out of his grasp. “I’m doing breakfast again tomorrow. I need to get to bed.”

“You could stay here.”

Spending the night wrapped in his arms. The thought was too tempting for her own good. “That’s not a good idea.” For so many reasons.

He let her go. She could feel is gaze on her as she dressed, fighting the urge to dive back into bed with him.

No good could come of it, she reminded herself as she drove home. Not after what she’d seen tonight, that beneath the gruff exterior and the charm he could turn on and off as easily as flipping a switch, Brady was haunted.

There was so much about him she didn’t know. So much about him she shouldn’t want to know.

Chapter 8

Brady woke up early the next morning. Not, he thought gratefully, as God forsakenly early as he would have had he been on breakfast duty at the restaurant.

But early enough that the sun was still teasing the tops of the mountains to the west of his property as he returned from his morning run.

He went inside, chugged some water and carried a cup of coffee outside onto his back porch. He didn’t feel the chill of the fall air. A sense of contentment coursed through him as he surveyed his property.

When he’d first moved to Big Timber, he hadn’t intended on putting down roots, becoming a homeowner. After nearly a decade in the military, and the two years after when he’d worked for a private security firm, he’d gotten used to being shipped off at a moment’s notice to whatever particular hell hole required his presence.

It had never mattered where home base was because he never stayed there long. Even when a close call with a pipe bomb on a company assignment in Iraq had inspired him to turn his enthusiasm for cooking into a one eighty degree career change, he’d continued to move around.

Arizona, Texas, Colorado and a handful of places in between. He supposed most people developed a sense of home when they were growing up, and seeing as his family had fucked up that along with everything else, it was no wonder he never felt strong ties to any particular place.

Until Damon convinced him to come to Big Timber to help him turn around a restaurant he’d invested in. Brady didn’t know if it was having Damon and his family here, who’d always been so warm when he’d met them in the past. Or the way the town had been so welcoming, as if Damon’s friendship was the only proof they needed that he was a good guy.

Then there was the setting, the small town nestled amongst some of the most beautiful country ever created. He’d grown up in similarly beautiful country, but living under the shadow of his family made him unable to appreciate it.

There was something about this town, this place that called to him, for the first time making him feel like he’d found a home. Like he wanted to stay.

That feeling had been cemented the first time he’d laid eyes on this property and known he had to have it.

Not too far out of town but far enough away to offer complete privacy, the five acre parcel had views of the mountains that never failed to make him catch his breath. The house wasn’t much, but he could build another house. He’d never get another piece of land like this.

He’d saved up enough of his salary through the years and socked away what he made from his contract jobs that he was able to offer cash on the spot.

After years spent in searing deserts and suffocating jungles, nothing gave him more pleasure than to wake up, walk outside and smell the cool, pine-scented air. From the day he’d moved in, there wasn’t a morning he didn’t wake up and appreciate everything about his home.

But this morning for the first time, something felt a little wrong. Lacking. He took a sip of his coffee, acknowledging grimly that it wasn’t a “what” the house was lacking, but a “who.”

Molly.

He’d hated to let her go last night. Wished with everything he had that he could have woken up with her this morning. That he could wake up with her every morning.

He was getting greedy, getting ahead of himself, but for a moment he let himself imagine it. They’d live together in the two bedroom log structure he’d already had plans drawn up for—no, scratch that. Molly wanted kids, so they’d need at least three bedrooms, maybe four—

Really? You really think a woman like that would let someone like you father her children?

The insidious voice in his head brought his musings to a screeching halt.

You really think Molly, with her picket fence dreams, will hitch herself to someone who comes from a bunch of white trash losers?

He shoved the voice down and finished the rest of his coffee, reminding himself that no matter what his family did, he’d already proven he was nothing like them. His life was nothing like theirs and never would be. He was making his own life, being his own man.

The kind of man Molly wanted to be with.

Eventually.

Though he was anxious to move their relationship past the booty call stage, for now he needed to stay the course. He knew she thought this was just rebound sex to help her get over the asshole who shall not be named. But Brady knew women, and he knew a woman like Molly didn’t give herself up like that to someone she didn’t feel something for, even if she wasn’t quite ready to admit it.

And in the meantime, he needed to keep his family and their drama as far away from Molly as possible.

###

“Taste this,” Brady held a spoonful of butternut squash soup to Molly’s mouth. It was Thursday and they were prepping for lunch service.

He watched, mesmerized as she obediently parted her lips and he slid the spoon inside. She closed her eyes, swallowed, and licked her lips, sending his half hard on to full attention. Only the sound of Adele knocking around in the walk in cooler kept him from chasing her tongue back in her mouth with his own.

“Amazing,” she sighed, sending a warm glow of satisfaction through him. Feeding this woman was almost as satisfying as fucking her.

Almost.

He turned back to the big stainless steel pot simmering on the stove. “It tasted a little flat so I added some red curry paste. Gives it a little kick right at the back of your palate.”

She resumed chopping garlic for the marinade for the steak that would be used for today’s lunch special, a skirt steak and roasted green chile panini. “That’s so cool how you can do that, just know exactly what to add to make something taste better.”