Page 293 of Steamy Ever After

“So good,” he whispered.

Peyton grasped his behind with both hands, urging him deeper.

“Baby.” He breathed into her mouth before his tongue did battle with hers.

She writhed against him, wanting him deeper still. Thankfully, Brodie grabbed her leg and brought it around him. When he slammed against her, she felt her body flood, not knowing whether she came first or he had. She wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could, not wanting to ever let go. Kissing the side of his face, she reached up to run her fingers through his hair.

Brodie kissed her hard enough that it hurt, but she didn’t care. She wanted to feel him everywhere. She didn’t want soft or slow; she wanted Brodie to lose himself in her. Brodie started to move inside her again, more forcefully this time, until she felt him drench her for the second time.

He looked into her eyes. “Again.”

Peyton lost track of how many times they came together, Brodie’s body never separating from hers. Finally, he shifted and rolled so she was on top of him. He held the sides of her face with his hands and looked into her eyes. When she looked into his, she saw regret. “Peyton, I?—”

“Please, Brodie. Whatever you say, don’t let it be that you’re sorry.”

“I have to. I didn’t mean?—”

She climbed off him and adjusted her clothes. “You should go.”

“I am sorry, Peyton.”

Her voice stuck in her throat, and she ran to the ladies’ room before he saw her tears.

After something so beautiful, something so perfect, he was sorry? She held the edge of the sink as sobs wracked her body. Soon, she heard the rear door open and close, and the sound of Brodie’s car speeding away.

She cleaned herself up as best she could; there’d be no hiding how hard she’d been crying, no matter how long she waited to go home. At least now, she knew her boys would be asleep. She’d do her best to avoid a conversation with Sam so she could retreat into her shower and wash the memory of Brodie from her body.

BRODIE

He drove straight to the airport in Los Angeles, parked in the long-term parking, and brought his suitcase and his brother’s box to the ticket counter.

“Where to?” The agent smiled at him.

He looked at the board. “Has the flight to Buenos Aires boarded?”

The ticket agent picked up the phone and asked the gate agent how soon they’d be closing the door.

“You’re in luck,” she said when she set the phone down. “The flight has been delayed. You should make it through customs in enough time, provided your paperwork is in order.”

Once on the plane, Brodie settled into his first-class seat, allowing his body to feel the pain of knowing he’d never again make love to the woman who owned his heart, and would for the rest of his life.

Brodie had been in Argentina for three and a half months when he went to visit a remote vineyard in the Rio Negra wine region. They were halfway there when he felt the plane he was on surge at the same time it clipped the mountain peak. Seconds later, the right wing severed and was thrown back with such force that it left a gaping hole in the rear of the fuselage. The aircraft hit the ground and slid. That was the last thing he remembered.

Of the forty-five people aboard the plane, there were twelve remaining survivors, including Brodie. Fifteen were killed instantly, and eighteen others died from their injuries within days of the crash. The copilot, one of the survivors, believed the crash site was only miles from the Chilean mountain town of Parrado, but Brodie sensed they were much farther west. However, with frigid spring temperatures, he had little hope any of them would survive unless they were rescued within the next two or three days.

Three of the twelve decided to set out in search of help. Brodie volunteered to join them, but after a short distance, he realized the injuries he’d sustained to his leg were worse than he’d initially thought. He turned around, unsure if he’d make it to the crash site on his own. Instead, he found his way to an area beneath several trees, pulling low branches down to the ground to provide warmth.

He knew better than to sleep, but his exhaustion was too great. Covered in branches, Brodie let himself drift off, doubting he’d still be alive by morning.

Some of the other survivors found him in the woods and carried him to the camp they’d built from the wreckage.

For two days, he’d slipped in and out of consciousness. They told him they were certain he wasn’t going to make it, but today, he felt better.

He remembered dreaming about Kade and Peyton—crazy dreams born of his delirium. Most of them were about being rescued, then going home to find Peyton waiting for him. Some of his delusions were so far out there, he gave them no credence. The ones about being rescued though, he clung to.

He drifted to sleep again and dreamed he heard the thwpthwpthwpthwp of a helicopter flying low. It was the shouts and screams he heard seconds later that brought him fully awake.

PEYTON

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