Page 139 of Drawn Blue Lines

Cradling my face, he turned tempting into torrid. There was no prelude. No gentle nip or taste. He demanded entrance, and I surrendered. Our tongues clashed with an urgency distance had denied us. It was warm, desperate, and hungry. With a final bite to my bottom lip, he pulled back with a satisfied smirk.

I let out an unsteady breath. “You’re wound up today.”

“You’re damn right,” he groaned, dropping his bag on the floor. “Between me being in New York, and you going back and forth to Chicago, we’ve hardly seen each other.”

I barely held in my own groan. He wasn’t kidding. The last three months had been hell. We’d been two proverbial ships passing in the night. Brody established an alliance with the Italians for New York port access and had been busy solidifying distribution channels while I spent my time building a rapport with Cristiano’s grandfather in Chicago.

I still held out hope I’d be able to mend that bridge between them. Cris said it was a lost cause, but I didn’t give up so easily.

“Are you feeling neglected?” I grinned, running the pad of my thumb over the scruff on his chin.

Brody grabbed my wrist and dragged it toward his mouth, his tongue tracing my pulse. “Don’t test me, princesa. I haven’t touched you in over a week. Don’t think I won’t throw you on that bar and give Frankie something to really stare at.”

“I ain’t lookin’ at nothin’,” Frankie slurred behind me.

I chuckled. Brody’s possessiveness was one of the things I loved most about him. I accused him once of smothering women, but it was just the opposite. He made me feel secure in a domineering yet endearing way.

He threw me over his shoulder but always made sure I landed on my feet.

I cupped his cheek. “This bar could be filled with men, and I wouldn’t see anyone but you. You’re all I need for the rest of my life.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that.”

I let out a squeal as Brody grabbed me under the arms and lifted me up and over the bar. My feet barely hit the floor before he spun me around and guided me to a barstool near the end of the bar.

“What the hell are you—” Before I could get the rest of my question out, two strong hands landed on my shoulders and pushed down until I gave up and sank onto the barstool.

“Do you remember the last time you sat here?”

“Tuesday?” I smirked.

He sighed heavily, visible tension in his neck. “No, princesa, this chair.” He tapped his finger against the wood under my ass then slid onto the stool next to me.

Something about this didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t know what it was until I scanned my eyes down the length of him. It was only then that I noticed what he was wearing, and my smile faltered.

Black tailored Armani pants. A white button-up starched shirt rolled-up at the sleeves, and a blue tie hanging around his neck. I hadn’t noticed it when he first came in because it had been well over a year since he traded luxury and design for leather and denim.

“Why do you have on a suit? You haven’t worn one in over a year.”

“I know. Still not ringing a bell, huh? Maybe this will jog your memory.” I was still confused when he stood on the bottom rung of the stool and leaned over the bar. I watched dumfounded as he poured a beer and a shot of tequila. After placing the beer in front of himself and the shot glass in front of me, he tugged his tie off his neck and tossed it onto the bar.

None of this made sense. He knew I didn’t drink, and as far as I knew, he’d quit.

“Brody, I have no idea—”

“Wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “Your line is, bad day, and then you’re supposed to push your tequila to the side and point out my tie.”

He’d lost his mind. However, he had that look on his face. The one he got right before he blew someone’s head off. So, regardless of how much I questioned his sanity, I complied.

“Bad day?” I asked. Pushing the tequila to the side, I held a perfect smile while nodding toward the discarded tie.

Brody didn’t bother to look up, while still gripping the hell out of his mug. “Something like that.”

We sat there for moments of uncomfortable silence as he waited for me to say something else. Something obviously, I was supposed to know by the clench of his jaw and grit of his teeth.

After what seemed like forever, Brody pierced me with a fiery stare and placed his hand across my forearm. “Want to—”

My eyes snapped toward the connection. It was such a simple move. An insignificant touch that said everything. It grabbed me by the throat and spun me back in time. Back to when I had nothing to lose.

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