Page 40 of Expiry Dating

He was sneaky, that was for sure. That magic mouth of his scrambled her brain and left her breathless. Once he was sure she couldn’t form a sentence, he released her lips and trailed his mouth along her jaw and down her throat.

“I miss you, baby. I know you miss me too. Say I can come over tonight.” He latched onto that sweet spot at the curve of her neck and began to suck.

“You can ... you can come over.” She dropped her head back and sighed.

There was no point denying him. Her body wants what it wants.

***

Later that night, all six foot two of Brady Mitchell was at home in her small space. He was also cooking in her tiny kitchen. What they definitely weren’t doing, though, was having sex. In fact, she’d received nothing but a chaste kiss since he’d arrived, leaving her more than a little frustrated.

Maybe he’s just gone off me. Maybe someone else, someone prettier, someone less difficult has caught his eye.

Whatever was going on, she didn’t like it. This wasn’t them. Sure, he’d cook for her, but that was at his place, where fewer clothes were involved and way more innuendoes were being flung around. Tonight, he’d shown up with a bag full of groceries and got to work straight away. It felt too domesticated.

“How was work?” Brady looked up from the chopping board, and when their eyes locked, she felt a slug of warmth travel through her stomach, right up to her chest.

“Aren’t I the one supposed to be asking you that? Catching bad guys is probably slightly more exciting than me doing some stretches.”

Brady chuckled, and that sound did something to her insides too. Damnit, what’s wrong with me? “Doing some stretches? Is that how you define your career now?”

When she didn’t reply, he continued his questioning. “What made you want to become a physical therapist?”

She moved from the couch to the table in the kitchenette. After sitting on one of the red chairs, she pulled her legs up, cradled her knees, and let herself think back to that awful day.

“Well, it wasn’t some heroic desire to help strangers, if that’s what you think.” She paused for a moment, gathering her courage. “When I was twelve I was in an accident, a car accident.” Brady instantly turned his back on the stove, giving her his full attention. “I was lucky, really, I mean, it could have been a lot worse. I sustained some injuries and underwent surgery. After that, I had to see a physio.” She didn’t meet his eye; she couldn’t. “I was in a lot of pain for a long time. For a while, I was scared I would never have full mobility in my legs. But Sarah helped me; she was my PT. She changed my life. And I guess she inspired me too. ’Cos after the accident, I just couldn’t imagine wanting to do anything else. Be anything else.”

She waited for the pity, but instead found herself being hauled out of the wooden chair and pulled into Brady’s chest. His brown eyes glistened as he looked into her, possibly seeing too much.

“You’re amazing, Ali.”

She looked away again, focusing her gaze on Brady’s flannel shirt. “Don’t do that. There’s nothing special about me. If anything, I’m a walking cliché. Little girl needs physical therapy and then grows up to be a physical therapist. I’m a bloody TV movie.”

He claimed her chin again, forcing her to face him. “Why do you always do that? Talk down about yourself? Whenever anyone tries to compliment you, you shut them down ... usually with some bullshit self-deprecating joke.”

I’m not having this conversation. Not with him.

“I think our dinners burning.” She knew it was a feeble attempt at avoidance, but it was all she had.

“Let it burn.” His stare didn’t waver, but his grip did tighten.

Goddamn Brady Mitchell. Goddamn him to hell.

She let out a sigh. “I just ... I don’t know what to say, Brady. I don’t know what you want from me.” She watched as his features gentled.

He moved his hand to cup her face and let his thumb caress her cheek. “I want you to see what I see, Ali. A beautiful, strong, smart woman who cares deeper and harder than anyone I’ve ever known.”

Her breath caught, and she was suddenly finding it hard to speak. Damn Brady was messing with her cognitive functions now. This isn’t supposed to be what they have. She didn’t need heartfelt compliments. She didn’t want him to see her. See more. She couldn’t and wouldn’t let her heart be compromised ever, ever again.

She unpicked herself from his hold and took a step back. “I need to use the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Yes, she was a chicken. And that chicken ran away to the bathroom to hide. Her heart was pounding, and her palms were sweating. She needed to pull herself together and start listening to her head and not her heart.

Because you’re scared.

So what if she was? She wasn’t ready. And there was nothing wrong with that. Just because Brady was trying to pry more from her, it didn’t mean she had to give it to him. It was time to remind him of what they were. What they were good at.

After removing her dress, she shimmied back into the kitchen in only her black, lacy underwear. Heat darkened Brady’s wide eyes. Good. She’d had the desired effect. The closer she came to him, the more intense his gaze was. She could almost feel the burn of his eyes on each part of her skin as he examined every inch of her.

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