Wild: Whispering Cove, Book 1 (8 page)

He glanced at Andie sitting in the passenger seat of his truck. The shadows of the night hid her expression, but not the sting of her words.

How the hell did she know he was grinning ear-to-ear with the thought of holding her?

“Smiling? Me?” There was no denying the happiness swirling inside him, knowing Andie was his all night long. Twisting the steering wheel, he guided his truck alongside Harold’s beach house and cut the engine. “I’m just trying to ease your grandfather’s mind, so that he can rest comfortably.”

“Ha. Ha. You’re staying in this vehicle and I’m leaving.” She opened the truck door at the same time he did. “You’re not coming in,” she reiterated.

Brody ignored her and climbed out of the cab. “Your grandfather said stay with you and that’s what I intend to do.”

“This is ridiculous.” Andie slipped out of his jacket, pushing it into his arms when they met in front of the truck. The heat of the engine rose against the cool night air.

“Ridiculous or not, we need to think about your grandfather.”

“I don’t think my grandfather’s health is what you have in mind.” Her gaze fell to the hard length of him already anticipating the night.

He chuckled and shrugged. “Hell, Andie. You know what the sight of you does to me.” Even now her soft womanly essence was calling to him, begging him to strip her naked and have his way with her.

“
Arghhh…
” She stomped off toward the house. Her footsteps thumped heavily against the wood. Still he followed. When she reached the door, she spun around, halting him with a palm against his chest. “Go home, Brody.”

The porch lamp bathed her in light. The fire in her eyes made her more beautiful than ever.

Brody placed his hand over hers. “No can do.”

Again, she growled her disapproval, grabbed for the screen door and entered, releasing it so that the damn thing almost struck him in the face. He chuckled again and stepped inside, tossing his jacket on the back of the couch.

“Why don’t you take a hot shower? Slip into something more comfortable.” When he ran his palms up and down her cold, bare arms, she stiffened beneath his touch. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his front. “I’ll make us some warm cider.” She had always enjoyed the sweet-tart taste of cider on a chilly summer night.

Andie walked out of his embrace, refusing to look at him. “I’ll take that shower, but you had better be gone by the time I return.” As she climbed the stairs, she didn’t glance back.

Brody couldn’t help it. He ogled the gentle sway of her hips until she was out of sight. Only then did he make for the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator, he grabbed a half a gallon jug of cider and closed the door. Harold always kept his cups in the cupboard nearest to the sink. Placing the cider atop the counter, he retrieved two mugs, spying a small bottle of spiced rum pushed to the back. He grabbed the bottle before shutting the cabinet. The liquor would be a welcome touch.

After he had poured an ample amount of cider in the cups, he slipped them into the microwave next to the stove and set the timer. When the buzzer rang he extracted the mugs, added some rum, and returned to the living room, lowering the lights before sitting the drinks on the coffee table. Then he took a seat and prayed the shower would relax Andie enough that she wasn’t still in the mood to kick him out on his ass.

Grabbing the channel changer off the table, he began to surf the stations, stopping on a cable channel that played soft, romantic music. He picked up a cup, inhaled the steamy fragrance and leaned back against the couch and waited.

Eyes closed, he let his mind drift, sifting through the past and the exquisite moment on the beach last night. Their time together had been rushed. Hell. They hadn’t even gotten their clothes off. A heavy sigh pushed from his diaphragm. It had been ten years since he’d seen Andie naked.

“Brody, you’re incorrigible.” Her haughty voice forced him upright. The hot liquid sloshed in his cup, almost spilling in his lap.

As she padded down the stairs, he could see the smile she fought. If she thought a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt and wet hair would deter his wayward mind, she was wrong. Brody loved everything about her.

Stopping before him, she placed her palms on her hips. “I can’t believe you’re still here. I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And I don’t want to be your babysitter.” His voice thickened with desire. No. He wanted nothing more than to be her husband, but he’d settle on being her lover tonight. Brody patted the couch next to him. “I made you some cider.”

“I should throw you out on your ass.” Even as Andie spoke she took a seat next to him, reaching for a mug.

“Careful. It’s hot.”

Her puckered lips blowing the steam off the cup tightened his gut. He wanted to kiss those lips so badly he already tasted her sweetness.

She tipped the drink to her mouth, and then took a sip. “Mmmm… Do you know, I can’t remember the last time I had cider.” She took another drink, eased back against the couch and propped her bare feet on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

They sat in silence listening to the gentle flow of music and drinking cider. The moment was peaceful, homey. Exactly how Brody had envisioned their life together. He slid an arm along the back of the couch, letting his hand fall on her shoulders.

Andie stared up at him, sorrow in her eyes as she set down her cup on the coffee table. “Brody, when I know that Grandpa will be okay, I’m heading home.”

“No.” He wouldn’t let her go.

“I have—”

Brody silenced her with a kiss. Only this time he plunged his tongue into her mouth, demanding and insistent.

At first she attempted to pull away, but he cupped the back of her head and feasted on her mouth. She tasted of cider and a future he thought long lost. He nibbled at her lips, before delving between them once more to savor her.

Brody knew the moment he’d won when she relaxed against him, her arms circling him. He couldn’t help himself, he pulled her onto his lap. His cock pressed against her ass sent blood rushing to his groin. A groan rolled across his tongue.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she murmured.

His mouth crushed hers, his lips firm and possessive. She opened up to him, sliding her tongue against his. Her eagerness made his head spin. He burned, ached for her in a way that could destroy him if she walked away again.

Andie held his soul in the very palm of her hand.

When he slipped his hands beneath the hem of her T-shirt, she cried out, breaking the kiss.

“Soft,” he whispered. “So friggin’ soft.”

“Brody…”

“No, Andie.”
Dammit.
He was trembling again. “Let me love you like I should have last night. Take off your shirt.”

Brody knew he was taking a chance, allowing her the opportunity to pull away, but he had to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“I’m scared.” The tears in her eyes confirmed it.

He stroked the soft mound of her abdomen. “Of what?”

“That if I give in, I won’t be able to walk away.”

A glimmer of hope sparked and he held onto it. “I don’t want you to walk away.”

“And I can’t stay.”

He refused to accept the note of finality in her voice.

Brody would not stand idly and watch her walk out of his life again. He tugged on his shirt, dislodging it from his pants, before he jerked it over his head, causing several buttons to pop. Toeing off his shoes, he stood and began unfastening his belt.

Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

“Getting naked.”

She licked her lips, her eyes focused on his. “
Brody?
”

“Join me.” He winked, hoping she would remember. “I’ll even let you chase me up the stairs
this
time.”

Andrea held her breath as the memory poured over her. Her grandfather had gone on an overnight fishing trip with Errol and Byron, leaving his house vacant. Brody and she had used the hidden key to sneak inside. It hadn’t taken them long to shun their clothes. Laughing, he had chased her up the stairs. They had tumbled upon the bed and he had made passionate love to her—several times.

The smile that tipped her mouth was involuntary. When she glanced up, Brody stood before her naked as a jaybird. Her jaw dropped.

Oh Lord. The man
had
changed in ten years. Last night she had a glimpse at his impressive goods, but there was so much more to him. Time had carved firm, bulging muscles in his arms and legs. His chest was a work of art that only a seasoned artist could have depicted to display an image of strength and vitality. A light web of ebony chest hairs narrowed down a hard abdomen, even lower to guide her sight to the length of him already full and aroused.

When she ventured a glance at his handsome face, his eyes were dark, threatening to pull her into them. He held out his hand to her.

Andrea’s heart pounded fiercely against her chest. Her palm itched to take what he offered. Only the knowledge that it would be hell leaving him again held her back. With short, rapid jerks, she shook her head.

“Touch me, baby.” Brody stepped forward. “Like you used to.”

The deep purr of his voice was pure, unadulterated sin. The kind of sensuality that made a woman fall at a man’s feet, and it was working just fine on Andrea.

She fisted her fingers and then splayed them wide.

Don’t do it, Andrea. Turn and walk away.

But the man before her was too much temptation. A decadent bounty of masculinity that begged to be explored.

Before Andrea knew what she was doing, she stood and reached for him. Skin against skin, her palms smoothed over solid biceps, traced the bulging veins. Part of her couldn’t believe what she was doing, and the other part of her didn’t give a damn.

The breadth of his shoulders, so wide and firm, felt delicious beneath her touch. Something fluttered low in her belly and she pinched her legs together to keep from groaning out loud.

God help her. She should stop but she didn’t.

Brody, on the other hand, was the image of calm and control, and she hated him for it. Unlike last night, it was she who trembled, emotions so raw they threatened to shatter at any moment.

Without hesitation her hands roamed over raised pectoral muscles, weaving through the light mat of hair, and across the tight beads of his nipples. He sucked in a tense breath. That small sound and the fast beat of his heart beneath her palms were the only things that exposed his nervousness. Andrea found some comfort in knowing that his restraint was weakening. Tonight when she fell into the dark abyss, Brody would follow.

Her fingers danced over his washboard abs, tracing that thin line of hair that swirled around his belly button and further down to where his hard erection jutted between his legs.

“Touch me, Andie.” A tremor raced through him as he placed his forehead against hers. “Do it now.”

Her hand closed around him and he made a strangled noise somewhere between pleasure and pain. With slow strokes she moved her hand up and down the length of him. Pearly white come squeezed from the small slit. It had been so long since she had tasted him. Her mouth watered and she found herself on her knees staring up at him. The heat simmering in his eyes was an aphrodisiac, sending her libido to another level.

“Andie,” he whispered at the same time his fingers pushed through her hair, nudging her head forward so she was close enough to kiss the bulbous head.

He smelled musky and male, something she had missed. Her stomach clenched and she quivered in anticipation.

“You want my dick in your sweet little mouth, baby?”

Her response was as a breathy whimper, followed by a silent,
holy shit!
Brody had never spoken dirty to her. In fact, no one had. By the biting sting in her breasts and the sudden flood between her thighs, one could say she liked it. Liked it a lot.

Andrea licked suddenly dry lips, her tongue sliding over that small slit to taste his salty essence. With one hand wrapped around the base of him, she lapped and nibbled along the crown. Her other hand cupped his balls, rolling them around in their sac.

Brody hissed, staring down at her with ravishing eyes. “Don’t tease, Andie. I’ve waited too long for this. Suck me.”

Parting her lips, she took him into her mouth. His grip on her hair tightened. His hips thrust forward driving him deeper. She gasped, choking. Easing back on her haunches, she took a much-needed breath before making a long, lazy path up the outer side of his length. When she met the mushroom-shaped head, she curled her tongue around it.

“Damn, baby,” he groaned, rocking into her.

Andrea closed her eyes, concentrating on the movement of her tongue, the soft scrape of her teeth, light but with enough pressure to excite him. She hummed around his flesh, loving the wet, moist sounds they made. When she heard him hiss again, she sucked him with long, hard pulls.

His knees buckled. He moaned and with a pop he pulled back from her. A smile of male satisfaction beamed across his face. “Baby, I’ve missed you.”

Brody helped her to rise. The taste of him was still on her lips when he covered her mouth with his. While their tongues dueled, strong hands slipped beneath her T-shirt. His touch was magical, melting her body so that she leaned into him. At that moment she’d give him anything he wanted. When he brushed the underside of her breasts, goose bumps raced across her skin.