Brody held his breath. Sam’s mouth had dropped open slightly when he’d spoken, but she hadn’t moved since then. She was watching him. Probably thinking about how to gracefully get out of this uncomfortable situation. He was on the verge of giving her an out when she set her cobbler bowl on the table and stood up. His stomach sank. She was leaving.
Him and his big mouth.
But she didn’t go. Instead, she reached out to him. He took her hand and she tugged until he stood up. He looked down at her with his brow drawn in confusion as she stepped close to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her head against his chest and sighed.
The feel of her pressed against him was amazing. He swallowed a groan as every inch of her soft body molded against his own. He hesitated to touch her. If this was just a pity hug and she would be out the door in a moment, he didn’t want to let himself fall into it. And if he did, he was afraid that it might send her running again. But he simply couldn’t help touching her. He enveloped her in his arms and pressed his lips against the golden curls at the crown of her head.
He didn’t want to let her go, yet before he was ready, he could feel Sam pull back.
A sly smile curled her lips as she looked up at him, her body still pressed against his. “I can fix that,” she said at last.
For a moment, Brody couldn’t quite piece together what she meant by that. Of course, it was hard to think with her breasts pressing against his chest. She couldn’t possibly mean…? His mind backed up. He’d said he was a virgin, and she said she could fix that. He swallowed hard and took Sam’s face into his hands. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I mean, are you doing this because you want to, or because you have this need to fix—”
Sam didn’t respond to his question. Instead, she climbed to her toes, pressed her mouth against his and silenced him. Her lips were soft and warm, and this time, she tasted like cherry cobbler instead of cherry lip gloss. He lost himself in the kiss, his thumbs stroking the smooth skin of her jaw.
When Sam pulled away, she took Brody’s hand in hers and started walking back into the house. He followed her inside, and when she paused at the staircase, he nodded. At the top of the winding stairs, he pushed ahead of her and led the way to his master suite.
As he opened the double French doors that led to his bedroom, his heart started pounding so loudly in his ears he was certain Sam could hear it. He kept turning a nervous gaze her way, but she just smiled and followed him without concern.
He paused in the center of the space. His king-size bed was on the right, facing a wall of windows that gave him the perfect view of the sunrise every morning. Past it was a small sitting area with a fireplace and the entrance to the master bathroom.
“So, this is my room,” he began as he turned to face Sam, not quite sure of the best approach to take from here. He hated feeling so awkward at this when he was able to confidently take charge in so many other areas of his life.
Sam had no question of how to proceed. Her dark eyes looked into his own as her fingers went to his collar. On reflex, his hand shot to cover hers and halt the movement.
Sam gasped softly at his sudden movement. “What’s the matter?” she asked, her dark eyes wide with concern.
Brody closed his eyes and swallowed hard. What would he tell her? That he wanted to leave his shirt on during sex? That he wanted the lights out? It sounded ridiculous in his mind, much less said aloud. Was it worse than admitting the truth? That as badly as he wanted her, he didn’t want her or anyone else to see what his bastard of a father had done to him?
Some people might have seen Brody’s face, but no one outside of a hospital had ever seen his chest. Even as a kid sharing a room with Wade, he always kept covered. He came out of the bathroom fully dressed after a shower. He never went swimming with the other boys. They probably expected him to have more scars from his accident, but Brody didn’t want anyone to know the full extent of what his father had inflicted on him long before that last day.
“Nothing. I just…” His voice trailed off. Brody wanted Sam more than he wanted to hide, but his sense of self-preservation was deeply ingrained in his every response. “I want you so badly. But I don’t want you to see—”
“I don’t want you hiding from me, Brody. There’s nothing that you could show me to make me want you any less.”
She seemed to know. Even with his shirt still buttoned, Sam knew what he was hiding. Brody let go of her hand and let her continue. She watched his expression with unmatched intensity as inch by inch of chest was exposed. He tensed, holding his breath as his shirt opened and she pushed it over his shoulders. He watched and waited for the reaction he dreaded. She might think she meant what she said, but she hadn’t seen all his scars yet.