Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 499(@200wpm)___ 399(@250wpm)___ 332(@300wpm)
I quickly realise I want his touch. I want his reassurance. I want him to be able to touch me without me reacting.
“Hey, can you … uh, not do that?”
His brow furrows. “Do what?”
“Not touch me because you’re worried I’ll flinch?”
Brody cocks his head, and his unkempt hair which is normally perfect falls into his face. “I thought you might’ve … I mean, this whole time whenever I hit on you or tried touching you in a flirty way, I thought you recoiled because you felt …” He blows out a loud breath. “God, this is embarrassing. I thought it was because you wanted me too and you were playing hard to get. Not because I fucking scare the shit out of you. So, I’m a shithead because I liked getting that response, but now I know the truth—”
“Please, don’t stop. It’s true I don’t like it. Law, my parents, even Reed now, they all treat me like I’m fragile, and fuck”—I huff a humourless laugh—“I totally am, but I don’t want you to see me like that.”
“Can I hug you?” he asks.
He takes me off guard, and my brain freezes for a second.
“You can say no.” His laugh is self-deprecating, and it’s what I need to force myself to do this.
Closing the gap between us is harder.
Brody stands and pulls me up off the couch. Then I’m there, against Brody’s strong frame. Our arms wrap around each other, his skin on mine creating a burning heat between us.
Even though he’s slightly taller, it turns out it’s only by an inch or so. It seems like so much more from afar. Brody is a strong, commanding presence, and it makes him appear taller.
I’m stiff against him, but that’s not surprising.
My heart races, just like it always does when this guy touches me.
Brody pulls back, his hand finding the rapid pulse beneath my chest. I hold my breath, because I know he can feel it.
“Do you have a heart defect?” he asks with genuine worry.
“What?”
“It’s racing like crazy.” He rubs my bare chest.
I still haven’t taken a breath.
Fingers trail down my pec. “Nipple piercings? Shouldn’t be surprised because of your eyebrow.”
Our eyes lock, and I’m stuck somewhere in between wrapping myself around him and pushing him off me, so I stay where I am, where I’m both safe and scared.
Brody’s close. So freaking close.
Holy shit are his lips moving closer? Is that his hand tightening around me?
I think I’m losing my head because I can’t actually be sure if any of this is happening. And I should be bugging out. Normally, I’d be trying to level my breathing, but the closer he gets, the more his presence chases away the fear.
Brody blankets me with an oddly calming haze. My anxiety claws at me, wanting out, but for the first time in a long time, I’m in control of it.
“Thank you for telling me,” he whispers, his breath catching my skin. “I won’t take it personally when you recoil at my touch anymore.”
Lips land on me, but not on my mouth. They skim my cheek, and my eyes close, taking in the sensation of Brody’s softness.
As quickly as they’re there, they’re gone, and so is the warmth of him against me.
I go to take a step to follow him because I want that feeling back. I want to see how long I can hold on to it. I need … I don’t know what I need, but I want it.
Only, my foot trips over a furball at my feet.
“Fuck, Lucky,” I grumble as I try to keep my balance and stop myself from stepping on her.
Brody helps steady me. “I think she knows.”
“Knows what?”
“What you’ve been through.” He picks her up, cradling her in those strong arms, and again, I feel jealous of a fucking cat.
“I think that animal-sensing bullshit is just that—bullshit.”
“She’s never once shown concern for me since she moved in.”
The quip is on the tip of my tongue. “Like Reed says. That means she has good taste.”
Humour is a defence mechanism I’ve built. I don’t even realise I’m doing it, but it’s successful in making the atmosphere lighter.
Brody laughs. “You going to be okay for the rest of the night? I kinda … broke your door down, so you won’t be able to lock it.”
Shit. “I’ll be fine. I’ll work something out.”
“Is the lock thing a comfort for you? Because you can take my room, and I’ll call someone in the morning to come fix yours.”
The thing inside me telling me I’m weak wants to take his room. The man ogling Brody for the billionth time says I’ve shown my hand enough tonight.
It doesn’t matter how many times Karen says I need to forget what social convention dictates a man should be, because apart from that being complete bullshit, it’s conducive to my therapy.