Page 24 of Expiry Dating

“Brady,” she warned, “I have to leave at some point. This is just sex, remember? And since we’re not currently having any, I should go.”

He didn’t want her to go anywhere. She belonged there with him. It may be just about sex for her, but he wanted more. He wanted to curl up on the couch with her. Hear about her day. Her life. Everything. Listen to her make fun of him. Laugh at her bad jokes. But she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. So sex it was, for now.

“We can change that.” He smirked as he placed his mug down and stalked toward her.

His lips went straight to that sweet spot on her neck while his hands moved under the thin cotton.

“Brady.” Her voice was shaky, just the way he liked it. “You can’t keep distracting me with sex every time I mention leaving.”

“Watch me,” he murmured into the crook of her neck as he dragged his mouth away and dropped to his knees.

CHAPTER NINE

Alice had never done casual before, so, granted, she had no point of reference, but she was fairly certain this was not how two people in a casual relationship acted.

It was Sunday night, and she was currently curled up on the sofa, resting her head on Brady’s chest. He’d curled his arm around her and had been unconsciously running his fingers up and down her side for a while now. At least she thought it was unconsciously.

It was strange to be at Brady’s. The house wasn’t anything like she expected it to be. It was less bachelor pad, more country chic. She hadn’t had a good chance to look around last time she was here, so she didn’t realise the lack of furniture in the living room extended into pretty much every other room too.

It also generally needed to be fixed up. Which was clearly what Brady was doing, if the bedroom and main bathroom were anything to go by. But the rest of the place ... well, let’s just say there was still lots more to do. The paint needed a refresh, and the floorboards made more noise than she did, but there was nothing wrong with a work in progress. Sort of like her. Maybe that was why she liked it so much: it had potential.

They were on their third serial killer documentary, and she just couldn’t bring herself to move. A part of her knew she should go home and get as far away from Brady Mitchell as possible, but the other part, which was clearly winning, was content to lay there all night. It also didn’t help that her legs still felt like jelly, which she was sure he had done on purpose.

“Isn’t it a bit of a cliché, a cop who likes watching serial killer documentaries?” she said into his chest.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been watching them a lot longer than I’ve been a cop.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“When you were in the Marine Corps did you watch documentaries on war?”

She felt his whole body stiffen as his hand froze.

God, I’m such an idiot. He had a life-changing injury that got him medically discharged, and I’m here joking about his TV taste.

“Sorry,” she rushed out, “I don’t know why I said that. My brain doesn’t always catch up to my mouth.”

“It’s fine.” He went back to stroking her. “It’s just still a little bit fresh, y’know?”

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