Brody peeled off my shirt and my bra and lay me back on the leather seat of his truck, spreading my legs—and I loved it. I loved that after we’d had sex, he wanted more. That he was never in a hurry to get up and leave… and more, that I never felt the need to get up and leave.

This was new for me. Very new.

I wondered if it was new for him.

I also loved that look in his eyes. The way his gaze worshipped my body just the way his hands did… his mouth. That he knew when to give it to me fast and hard, to take over and use his strength to give me pleasure… and when to take his time, letting me catch up to him. He took his time now, rubbing his cock between my legs, slowly, just savoring the fact that he could. That we could finally, finally touch this way. Naked… Nothing at all between us.

He kissed my neck while he nudged my clit, just teasing me, warming me up all over again as that rush that only he could stimulate flooded my body.

And soon, he’d fill me with his body. His tongue. His fingers. His cock, hard and thick, straining… finally easing into place.

He liked to watch my face as he took me. Liked to watch himself entering me, again and again.

Liked to watch as he made me his.

Except this time, he didn’t do that.

He just kissed me, everywhere… eventually landing between my legs, exploring… learning every sensitive place on my body, inside and out.

“Aren’t you… tired?” I asked, playing with his hair, feeling like I should give him an out if he just wanted to lay back with me and catch his breath.

But he didn’t stop. He just fluttered his tongue in a way that made my eyes roll back in my head. “Don’t you wanna come again?”

I just watched him in awe, his gorgeous face between my legs, unable to even gather my thoughts to answer; he was blowing them all over the place with his patient tongue.

“No?” he teased. “You really look like a woman who could come again.”

“I do?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Oh, yeah…

He nibbled my clit and I went spinning over the edge, helpless… bucking against him as he wrapped his warm lips around me and I went into free-fall, shocks of pleasure ripping through my body.

When I could speak again, I whispered, “My God. Brody… I’ve never done this before… ”

“Done what?” he mumbled, still kissing between my legs.

“With a guy… you know… I don’t know how you… ” I lost my train of thought as he went at my clit again, no chance of resisting or keeping up a conversation. I came, again, falling apart on the seat of his truck, clawing at the leather.

“Oh… God…”

“You’ve never had multiples with a guy?” he asked, sounding slightly amused as he kissed the inside of my thigh.

“Uh… no. I’ve never come at all with a guy.”

“You’ve never…?” He looked up at me, stunned. “You’ve never had an orgasm during sex?”

“Not with a guy.”

He considered that, and his eyebrow slowly raised. “Are you telling me you’ve slept with women?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get your hopes up.” I relaxed into the seat with a sigh. “I meant other than by myself… you’re the only person I’ve ever…” I bit my lip.

“Shit.” Now he looked almost pissed off. “What kind of losers have you been sleeping with?”

“Well, I—” I didn’t get a chance to answer that since he pretty much killed my ability to think, again, when he stuffed two fingers inside me and started fluttering them around—at the same time he flicked his tongue over my clit with determination, and I came again… a quick, sharp ascent to a pinwheel burst of color and light. I shut my eyes tight as the bliss ripped through me.

Holy… shit.

What the hell were we talking about?

Oh, yeah. Orgasms.

When I could retrace my line of thought, I managed to say, “It wasn’t really their fault. I mean… I never really, you know, stuck around long enough to—”

This time, he rose up over me and shut me up by kissing me, his tongue plundering my mouth, musky-sweet with the taste of my sex.

“Don’t tell me,” he growled. “I don’t wanna know. Don’t ever tell me about anyone you slept with before me.”

“Okay, but I just wanted to explain—”

“Yeah, no. Don’t wanna hear it, princess. And neither of us wants me spending the rest of my life in prison for murder, so let’s just rewind and pretend no one’s ever kissed you but me, yeah?”

He grinned at me a little, but there was a softness in his blue eyes. A vulnerability that made my breath catch.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

Then he kissed me again, sinking against me and drawing the blanket over us.

* * *

We lay intertwined for a while, my back to Brody’s front, my body cocooned in his, his heavy arm slung around me. My eyes were closed and I was playing with his hands, my fingers winding through his, just enjoying the pleasurable tickle of his skin against mine.

I opened my eyes and examined his fingers, noticing how smooth his nails felt. “You don’t chew your nails anymore.”

“Guess not.”

“When did you stop?”

He was silent a moment, maybe thinking about that. “Sometime after my dad died, I guess.”

There was a connection there; I knew there was. Brody had never liked talking about his parents, especially his dad. He’d never said much to me about him at all, other than to tell me, when I was seventeen, that he’d died.

“I remember the funeral,” I said softly. I’d never forget; there had been too many funerals in my young life. But what struck me most about that funeral was how grand it was, how many flowers there were, how fancy everything was compared to the tiny, humble services for my parents… and how many people turned up to the funeral of a man whose son never had a word to say about him. “You didn’t cry.”

“No,” he said. “You did.” He entwined his fingers with mine. “You held my hand the whole time.”

I ran my thumb over his tattoo, the one on his palm, of the rose and vines.

“This hand,” he whispered.

I kissed his palm, right on the tattoo.

“You did that, too,” he said.

Yeah. I remembered that, too. “That’s what the tattoo’s for?”

“That’s what the tattoo’s for.”

Wow. I’d always wondered… but never been sure.

I’d been there when he got that tattoo. Jesse and I both were. We’d gone to a tattoo parlor to get the tattoos that he’d promised me we’d get together when our mom died, and while we had the abstract angels with the tall, proud wings inked on—Jesse’s, large, on his inner arm, and me, small, on my ankle—Brody had the rose and vines inked on his hand.

That was right after his father’s funeral.

“I think you were a bit drunk,” I said, remembering back.

“Maybe,” he said. “A bit. But I knew what I was doing.”

I brought his hand to my lips and kissed the rose again. Then my eye caught the tattoo on his forearm. “You ever going to tell me what this one means?” I ran my fingertips along the runes. “Abstinence… I mean, I know I said I wouldn’t fuck you before you told me, so I’ve kind of lost my leverage here.”

“It means self-restraint,” he said. “Resisting something. Like something you’re hungry for and dependent on.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dictionary,” I replied. “But that’s not what I was asking.”

“No?”

“No. Why do you have it tattooed on your arm?”

There was a silent pause. “Promise you won’t get upset?”

“I make no such promise.”

Brody kissed my shoulder. “Then I’m not telling you.”

I considered that.

“Okay. How about I promise I won’t totally freak out and start throwing shit? But I can’t promise you how I’m going to feel when I don’t even know what you’re going to say.”

His arms tightened around me. “It’s supposed to remind me why I should stay away from you.”

My hand stilled where I was caressing a trail back and forth along the tattoo. “And why should you stay away from me?”

His arms tightened even more and he said, “Because I can’t.”

Oh.

Wow.

Had anyone ever said anything like that to me before? That bravely honest? That filled with love and pain and humility?

“I love you, Brody.”

It was the only thing I could think of to say in reply to a comment like that. And I meant it. With every part of me.

He sighed against me and held me tight, and I just let him; let the rhythm of his breaths and his heartbeat become familiar. I never wanted to forget this moment.

“I want you to know why I acted the way I did the other night,” he said after a while. “When we came to get you from that party, with the Sinners. It’s just like I told you, years ago. I won’t share you, Jessa.”

I looped my arms around his and held him tight. “I know. I’d never ask you to.”

“It’s just…” He cleared his throat, and I could’ve sworn he sounded nervous—and Brody didn’t really do nervous. I felt his heart in his chest, beating against my back. “I know Roni’s into that… scene. But—”

“Brody…”

“I just want you to know I don’t think you’re a whore.” He nuzzled into my neck, resting his head against mine. “You said that, that I thought you were a whore because you went to that party. I don’t think that, Jessa. But I think it’s dangerous for you to go to parties like that.” He was silent for a moment. “I know you know Piper,” he went on carefully, “and maybe that makes it seem harmless… but you do not want to get caught up in that world, Jessa, for one of those guys to take a liking to you that you can’t shake.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think you really do.” His hold on me tightened again, like he was afraid I might pull away. “When I was young… I fell in with some of those guys, for a while. It was not a good scene.”

Well… that explained some things. I turned my head toward him, so I could see his eyes.

“That pin you gave me?” He’d never told me where he’d gotten that Sinners pin when we were kids, but I’d always wondered.

“Yeah,” he said. “That pin.”

“Well, I loved that thing,” I told him. “I’m still mad at you for losing it, you know.”

“I didn’t lose it.”

“What?”

He sighed, silently. “That night, when I went back to that party after driving you home, I found it in the grass and threw it in the garbage. Just to be sure it didn’t somehow find its way back to you.”

My mouth dropped open. I twisted around in his arms to look him straight in the eye. “Then I’m even more mad at you.”

He pulled me on top of him and I squirmed in protest, the full contact of our naked bodies revealing that he wasn’t at all put off by me being mad. Nope; he was turned on.

“Let me make it up to you,” he said with hooded eyes.

“No,” I said, but when he pulled me in for a kiss, I didn’t resist. Much.

“C’mon, princess,” he taunted me, his hand sliding down around my ass to caress my swollen pussy—dripping wet from the sex we’d already had… and the sex we were clearly about to have. “Give it up, baby.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me,” he said, shoving his tongue in my mouth.

So I made him. I wrestled his tongue in a fight for dominance, which I only won because he let me. I plundered his mouth like I owned it, sucking on him until his cock jerked beneath me, jabbing into my stomach, and I knew he was as insatiable for me as I was for him.

He slipped a finger into me from behind and started fucking me with it, slow and wet, and I rode it shamelessly.

“So we’re just staying here?” I asked between kisses, trying not to sound happy. “Like, forever?”

“For as long as we need to,” he mumbled against my mouth.

“Mmm… How do we know when we’re done needing to?”

“When I’m done fucking you.” He fumbled around down below and I lifted up a bit, straddling him, so he could maneuver. I swiped my hair out of my face to get a good look at him. His eyes were heavy-lidded the way they got when he was thinking with his dick. He was stroking himself, looking at me as he did it.

I bit my lip. “Are you ever going to be done fucking me?”

His eyes caught mine as he found my entrance.

“Fuck, no.”

Then he slid into me, gripping my hips with his hands and rocking me against him. I was so wet, so swollen and accustomed to his hard length, I took him easily. But I squeezed him tight, giving back as good as I got as he kissed his way down my chest.

He gripped my ass, catching my swollen nipple in his mouth, and as I rode the edge, he touched my opening—the one behind my pussy. It didn’t bother me. I was way too turned on to dislike anything he might try. Actually, it felt good. Tingly and exciting as he pressed against me. That touch, so intimate, drove me closer… and as I rode him harder, more insistently, seeking my release, he shoved a finger inside me.

Whoa.

That felt too, too good. Like a rush of sweet and salt… tingles spreading up and out, through my core, along my spine… I gasped his name as I came, flying apart in a sudden burst, as strange, unexpected pulses of pleasure rippled around his finger, deep inside me. He had me impaled with his finger and his cock, his other hand wrapped around my breast, my hard nipple in his teeth, and the pleasure… it was everywhere. All-consuming.

Cosmic.

As I slid back down from that ecstatic peak, Brody seemed to catch me. He kissed his way up my throat and I dropped my face to meet his.

“Fuck… you’re good at sex…” I grinned at how stupid that sounded, even if it was true.

“I love you, Jessa,” he said, his voice gruff, and I got lost in his hands, his thrusts, as he kept at me. “Fuck… I love you…” I melted into him, kissing him, sliding my tongue deep in his mouth as he drove up into me and let loose, filling me with his heat. I reveled in his spasms, the feeling of this strong man falling to pieces beneath me, even as he squeezed me and kissed me and rocked into me again and again, groaning.

Afterward, once we’d had a chance to catch our breath and regain use of our limbs, he stumbled out into the night to collect his clothes and his phone.

I hopped out after him, wiggling into my jeans, and pulled on my furry boots and jacket. I’d left my purse out there too, and I really wanted to grab the little tube of hand sanitizer I carried in my makeup bag. It probably wouldn’t even cross Brody’s mind, since he was a guy, but the thought of him walking around touching everything with a finger that was just up my butt was grossing me out… as epic as it might’ve felt in the moment.

“Yeah, sorry I missed you. How’d it go?”

As I walked past him, he was dressed and already on a call. The man never stopped working.

Well… except for when he was fucking me. Hmm. I’d have to make note of that.

If you want Brody’s undivided attention, just spread your legs.

I giggled a little to myself, smiling at him as his eyes met mine.

“Seth show up?” he asked into the phone, and I froze in place. My breath choked in my throat. “Alright, brother. Fill me in tomorrow. I’ll come by in the afternoon.”

When he hung up, he was still looking at me. “What?”

“Clean your hands,” I said, whipping the sanitizer at him. I didn’t mean to throw it so hard—but he ducked a bit to avoid the missile, catching it with one hand just before it hit his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said, striding back toward the truck, but I was already getting that tunnel vision thing that I got when I couldn’t deal and I just wanted to go.

Go anywhere.

Go the fuck away.

“Jesus,” he said, still standing there, watching me, “are we back here again?”

I snapped then. I threw my purse at his truck. Yeah; not one of my finer moments. I saw it bounce off the door and splat to the ground before I pivoted and started walking in the other direction. Away from the road.

Straight off into the dark of some field in the middle of God-knew-where.

In the tunnel of my thoughts, I was already trying to figure out how to get out of this. My phone was in my purse. So I couldn’t exactly call Piper. But if I kept walking, I’d have to hit some other road, or eventually I’d find his house, or—

“Jessa.” Brody’s voice, sharp and freaked the fuck out, cut through my thoughts. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” I said. Which, of course, was all sorts of ridiculous. But I was already in full-on flight mode, which was pretty much akin to a panic attack; kind of overrode logic and rationality.

“Where the fuck are you going?” He was closer now, his voice in my ear, and I had to resist the urge to run like hell with everything I had. I stopped short as his hand closed on my arm. Then his other arm went around my waist. He held me from behind, his grip like steel, so I couldn’t run if I tried. “Jessa,” he said, his voice dropping, low and soft. “Just stop, okay? Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong,” I said, but my breathing was all choked up and I was sniffling a bit. The feel of him, warm and strong and unyielding, wrapped around me, had jolted me out of flight mode and into something else.

Fall-the-fuck-apart mode.

“I’m taking you to my place,” he said, his voice still soft, but firm. “You’re staying with me.”

I didn’t answer, but I also didn’t argue.

I let him guide me back to the truck as tears slid down my face. I didn’t even breathe as he picked up my purse. He opened the door and I got inside. Then he did up my seatbelt and put my purse in my lap.

“Thank you,” I managed to whisper.

Brody’s eyes met mine. He nodded and shut the door, but I’d seen it clearly on his face—how much my falling apart bothered him.

No; it didn’t bother him. It hurt him. It pained him and it worried him.

It scared the shit out of him.

It scared the shit out of me, too.