He was lost in his own thoughts when Sam thrust her tongue into his mouth. She crushed her breasts against the wall of his chest, cranking up the intensity between them. The movement sent a jolt of electricity down his spine, urging him on. On instinct, he backed her against the kitchen island, pressing his body into hers. His hands planted on the countertop, flanking her waist. It was easier than trying to figure out which part of her he wanted to touch next.
Their kiss was no longer sweet, nor gentle. Sam’s hands roamed across his chest, her fingernails scratching the coarse fabric of his shirt and teasing the muscles beneath it. Her touch coaxed an ache of desire that strained against his tight jeans. He pressed himself against her stomach and swallowed a deep groan of pleasure. It came out like a growl vibrating in his throat.
The feeling echoed through Brody’s entire body. She felt so amazing against him. His mind started racing again. Was this it? Could this really be happening after all this time? He thought he was reading the signals correctly. With every nerve in his body, he prayed for it to be true.
“I want you so badly,” he whispered against her lips. “Say yes. Stay with me tonight.”
Brody could feel a stiffness settle into Sam’s muscles, and then she pulled away from his kiss. The few inches between them brought a rush of cool air that helped him regain some control. She looked at him, her brow gently furrowing into a V. There was a hesitation, a worry there, and he didn’t know how to make it go away. He couldn’t lose her after getting this close. He wouldn’t let her go. If she walked out the door, his chance with her might have passed forever. He wanted Sam more than he’d ever wanted a woman before. No matter what it took, what he had to expose of himself, he would do what he had to do to keep her here with him.
“Please, Samantha.”
When she looked away, she shook her head just enough to send his heart sinking into his gut. The hands that had caressed him a moment before were now pushing gently at his chest. He took a step back. Somehow, he’d ruined it.
“I’m sorry, Brody. I can’t.”
Six
Sam watched the conflicting emotions fly across Brody’s face. He tried hard to hide them, but she could see his disappointment. Could he see hers? Would he be able to understand how much she wanted him but feared having him at the same time?
“I should probably go. Dave gave me his card so I could call when I was ready to leave.”
“Don’t leave, not yet.” His voice was low but even. He wasn’t demanding or even begging. “Peggy made a cobbler for us, and I have French vanilla ice cream. We can eat it out on the patio.”
“I don’t know, Brody.” Dessert, although it sounded nice, would only be putting off the inevitable. She was either going to go home or sleep with Brody. So she probably should just go ahead and go.
“It’s cherry,” he added, his blue eyes a little hopeful as he watched her reaction. “I won’t touch you again unless you ask me to. I promise.”
Sam sighed. Her resistance was wearing down, fast. “It’s not that I don’t want you to touch me, Brody.”
“Then you don’t want cobbler?”
“No, I would love some cobbler. I just—”
“Great.” Brody turned away, cutting off her excuses and pulling a carton of ice cream from the freezer. On the counter was a deep casserole dish covered in foil. He lifted the top to reveal a golden flaky crust with deep red cherry juices oozing along the edges.
She wanted to grab his arm and insist that she really had to leave. Right now. But Sam really loved cherries. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to go home. She was having a good time. She was only worried things were moving too quickly.
Brody dished them both out a bowl with a scoop of ice cream on top. The cobbler was still warm enough to start the vanilla immediately melting into a pool over the top. “Here,” he said, handing her the dish. “We can talk about whatever it is outside.”
It was then that she realized how chilly it had gotten lately. Boston had stayed unseasonably warm for the area until the day before yesterday. With the sun having set an hour or so ago, the night air would have a definite chill. Not exactly the right weather for eating ice cream on the porch. “Isn’t it too cold out? It’s October.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got it under control.”
Sam followed him through the maze of the house, admiring the winding central staircase and the museum-quality artwork on the walls that wrapped around it. They passed an area that looked like his office and then a den with a large television and comfortable chairs. There were French doors leading off to a covered patio.