Page 80 of Hate to Love You

And those dimples.

Don’t even get me started on them. They’re nowhere in sight at the moment, but every time he grins, my panties melt.

I’m beginning to suspect that all the dislike I’d harbored for him was really lust and longing masquerading as aversion. I’d convinced myself that Brody was nothing more than a dumb jock coasting through college, screwing his way through the female population at Whitmore while helping to bring home three National Championships.

I never bothered to scratch beneath the surface. And now that I have, I realize there’s so much more to Brody than I allowed myself to believe.

More shocking than that, I actually like the man I’m discovering him to be.

I blink as that thought resonates through my brain.

What am I supposed to do about this?

It’s not like this is a real relationship. Brody did me a favor by protecting me from Reed and the ugliness he’d hurtled at me. At some point, this farce will end and we’ll go our separate ways. Our relationship will revert back to what it was before this started.

Is that what I want?

I…don’t know. I’m not sure about anything anymore.

But what I do know is that I want him.

I stare at my hand as it rests against the hard ridges of his abdominals. He’s touched me. Several times, in fact…Hello, library. But I haven’t dared to do the same. I’ve held back. But I’m done doing that.

Isn’t it about time I explore his body just as thoroughly as he’s explored mine?

My belly trembles in anticipation.

I slide my hand lower, slipping it beneath the elastic band of his boxer briefs. My heart trips as I trail my fingers over the hot length of him. Already he’s hard. I guess the rumors are true—the man is definitely more than a handful. Gripping his cock, I slowly slide my palm over his thick shaft.

Brody arches against me. A groan slides from his lips and his eyes jerk open, colliding with mine.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Brody

I’m having the hottest freaking dream ever. We’re talking the stuff wet dreams are made of. Natalie is fisting my dick, pumping me slowly. My balls stir in response.

Only…it’s not a dream. She really is stroking my cock.

My eyes spring open, and I blink furiously, trying to focus. The first thing I see is Natalie leaning over me. The blankets have been pushed aside, and her hand is inside my boxers.

“Morning.” An innocent smile curves her lips. “Sleep good?”

Her tone is so fucking nonchalant. Like we’re just shooting the shit and her hand isn’t wrapped around my cock for the first time, making me impossibly hard.

I blink a few more times, wondering if maybe I’m still dreaming. If so, this is the best dream I’ve had in a while. Unable to resist, I reach out and cup her warm breast. Her nipple pebbles in my hand. Goddamn, but I love her nipples.

Nope, definitely not a dream.

She leans over and presses her mouth against mine. I nip her bottom lip with my teeth and pull. If she keeps touching me like this, I’m going to blow my load. That’s not something I’ve done since high school. Sophomore year, to be exact. Before I got laid on a regular basis. I don’t even want to talk about how humiliating of an experience that was.

With my free hand, I cover hers, stilling the movements.

She frowns. “You don’t like that?”

“I like it too much,” I grunt.

Her forehead smooths out as she tilts her head to the side. “And that’s a problem why?”

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