* * *
Minutes ago, Brody passed by the street in Lakewood where his parents own a beautiful home. Now, he’s parked in front of another house, not as intimidating, but nothing I ever hoped to call my own in this lifetime.
“Where are we?”
“I cooked.”
“But where are we?”
“I’ve been scoping the place out. Broke in earlier, watched TV—”
I snort. “You watched tv?”
“Yup. When I was casing the place, I noticed the lad who owned it would be away for a while. His loss my luck.”
Brody’s around the Silverado in a flash, his arm around my waist as we walk up the flagstone pavement. Tiny solar lights dot the lawn. At the door, Brody inserts his keys into the lock.
I smirk. “Well, that’s inconsistent with the bad boy persona.”
He pinches my ass. “Nae. I broke in the back. The nugget left a set of keys that I’ve used the entire time.”
In the entrance, a chandelier hangs from high on the ceiling. The naked walls span far and wide, a spacious living room is off to one side, in need of tender loving.
“Hellooo?” I let my voice travel as I saunter across the marble flooring. Brody’s watching me as I snoop around, past a sweeping staircase. I’m following my nose to my longest-standing friend—the scent of good food. Farther in is an open kitchen that’s calling my tummy, but I pause.
“You cleared out the place?”
“Aye.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Left one couch and the tv—damn—that’s a huge tv.”
The sexiest smile I’ve ever seen flashes across Brody’s face. “That’s where ye come in. Ye gonna help me take it down?”
“I’m not getting my fingerprints on anything, so no,” I joke.
I follow him to the kitchen where an old school coffee maker is an eyesore on the marble counter. The lavish room, filled with stainless-steel appliances, lacks character. The only color comes from the blue cases of beer in the corner.
“How will ya have a drink, lass, if ye’re not putting yer fingertips on anything?” he asks, opening a cupboard and taking out a set of wine glasses, which are still in the box.
I laugh, threatening him. “If you don’t give me that damn glass, Brody. I was kidding. First of all, nice bachelor pad. For someone who has an aversion to monogamy, you selected a helluva home.”
“This is a fecking investment, nothing more. And I don’t respond to orders. Now, this is the part where I say, ye smell lovely. I’m hungry. Worked up an appetite cookin.”
In an instant, I’m famished too. “What did you cook?”
“Shepherd’s pie. Ye were supposed to help.”
“Oh, I get it. You cooked everything,” I begin, “but that’ll make you seem too domesticated, right? What’s left for me to make? Drinks?”
“Aye.” He nods, his eyes descending on my lips.
Sensory overload. The capability to banter fails me.
“Open your legs for me, Justice.” An immoral smirk escapes his usual hardened face. He pulls the shirt from over his head, exposing taut, tan skin. “Yer pussy is a full course meal, food and drink.”
I was wet upon first sight of Brody, and now the pleasant drizzle turns into a downpour.
A voice that sounds as familiar as rain but is strange to me echoes in my ear, saying, “But I haven’t tasted you yet, Brody.” Oh damn, I asked to suck his dick.