Page 18 of Someone Like You

“What now?” I felt like I was coming out of a daze, and my cheeks grew warm at the direction my thoughts had taken.

Brody’s eyes drifted over me, pausing on my flushed cheeks, and then he licked his lips. “I was saying I thought we’d be more comfortable in the bedroom,” he said, and was his voice huskier?

Wait, the bedroom? Hell no. “What’s wrong with right here?” I asked, gesturing to the couch.

“Is this where you want to work?”

Why did I feel like I was being tested? “Um, sure?”

He shrugged. “Okay. We’ll do it out here.”

Why did everything from those plush lips of his sound like some kind of come-on? Why did Ilikeit so much? “Okay,” I said.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, turning and giving me another long look at that beautiful ass as he walked down a short hallway and disappeared through an open door.

It was then I realized I’d given up berating myself for looking at him like that. I’d given up denying that I wanted Brody. But I was not about to giveinto any of it. I’d never wanted a relationship—physical or emotional—before, had never been very taken with anyone I’d met anyway, but there was something about Brody. About the way he made me feel, the way he treatedme, that made it hard for me to think around him. But I had made a promise to myself, all those years ago, that I’d never let another person have that kind of power over me again, that I’d never let anyone in, never lower my guard enough to let someone destroy me like Ethan had. I intended to keep that promise.

Brody came out of what I assumed was his bedroom carrying a laptop and a textbook and stopped in front of me. “You can sit,” he said, his lips twitching.

“Oh. Yeah,” I said, walking around the arm of the couch to sit at one end. I needed to shake this shit off and get myself together.

Brody sat down at the other end, and the couch had seemed a lot bigger before he’d come along. It felt too small now, and I couldn’t look away as he propped his bare feet up on the coffee table, long and elegant and broad. My gaze kept going up his calves to the thin cotton clinging to strong thigh muscles. My eyes went even higher and almost bugged out of my head when I could absolutely, one hundred percent, see his cock. It was big. So fucking big, and my mouth started to water as I stared. Brody moved then, and his cock moved too, shifted a bit where it rested on his thigh, and a strangled cough erupted from my throat.

I was agonizingly, brutally, pitifully hard, so I grabbed the little throw pillow next to me and pulled it over my lap, refusing to meet Brody’s eyes. He’d probably caught me staring, probably knew what was happening right now, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Fuck, this was going to shit already.

Thankfully, Brody said nothing about my strange behavior. He got right down to business. “Here,” he said, leaning down the couch to hand me the book I was supposed to read to him. He had his laptop open on his lap now, and when I took the book, I looked at the title.The Fundamentals of Business. “You can skipthe foreword. She wants us to read chapters one through sixteen, so I figured we could do a chapter a day? Start with chapter one today and go in order from there?”

I cleared my throat. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I mean, when do you not go in order outside ofchoose your own adventurebooks?” To my surprise, Brody actually laughed at my stupid joke, and of course I had to look at him. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, and he was shaking his head as if acknowledging that my attempt at humor was lacking but he appreciated it anyway. At least he was putting up with me, and looking damn good while doing it.

I looked back down at the book in my hands and sighed. I hoped I didn’t fall asleep while reading this. I wasn’t knocking his interests, but I couldn’t claim to share them. I glanced at Brody, who was watching me expectantly, fingers poised over the keyboard. He looked fucking adorable like that, alert and intent and ready to take notes. Focused and tuned in. It hit me how…I don’t know,intimate,it was to read to another person. I’d never done that in my life, and I’d never had anyone read to me, either. I was almost excited to do this for him, to be able to help him with something like this, to give him what he needed.

“Okay, so,” I said, just to fill the silence, even though I was about to be filling it nonstop for two hours. I flipped the book open, found the first chapter, and started to read.

And I liked it. Not the book, no. I really liked the easiness of just reading words already written, of not having to understand or dissect the concepts myself, of listening to the constant clicking of the keys as he took notes. Every so often he’d stop me and ask me to re-read a line or two or three, and I liked that, too. His attentiveness to detail, his desire to make sure he understood the information being presented, the way he would mutter something to himself as if coming to some realization or grumbling about its usefulness. There was a comfortability here,in witnessing Brody be so devoted to his schoolwork. There was a deep satisfaction, too, at being able to help him. By the time the chapter had ended, I was—well, I was really thirsty, and my throat was a little sore, but I felt fulfilled in a way I never really had before. But, then again, I’m not sure I’d ever helped someone like this.

When I closed the book and Brody got up without a word, I thought—disappointedly—that that was that, and maybe my cue to show myself out. But he just went over to a little mini-fridge I hadn’t noticed near the TV, pulled out two water bottles, and handed me one. “Oh, thanks,” I said, unscrewing the cap and chugging almost the entire thing. “Yeah, that destroyed my throat.”

The look Brody gave me was sharp and heated, but he said nothing, just sat down at the other end of the couch and spread his legs wide. One arm went over the back of the couch, angling him toward me, and the other draped over his lap, his fingers curled into a tight fist.

“You’ve got a nice reading voice,” he said. “I could listen to you read anything, I think.”

Pleasure curled low in my belly, and I’ll admit my ego was a little inflated, too. I liked compliments. I didn’t get a lot of them, but I always felt like I was floating when I got them.

“Well truthfully I was hoping you’d hate it and just call the whole thing off,” I lied.

Brody chuckled. “Tell me something,” he said, fingers picking at the blanket hanging over the back of the couch. Anticipation coursed through me, and I turned fully toward him. His eyes roamed lazily over me until they returned to mine with a searing intensity. “Who hurt you, Isaac?”

I felt like I’d just dropped fifty feet headfirst into cold water. I shoved to my feet and said bitingly, “Okay, we’re done here. I’llsee you on Saturday.” Anger pulsed through my veins, thick and stinging, and I wasn’t sure it was entirely directed at Brody.

I was halfway to the stairs when his soft voice stopped me mid-stride. “Hey. I just want to know you. Understand you better. Make sure I never make a mistake like that again. You don’t have to run.”

Without turning, fists clenched by my sides, I gritted out, “I’m not fucking running.” And then I ran up the stairs and out the door and got in my car and left.

When Saturday morning rolled around,I realized that Brody and I had never discussed a time to meet. And he hadn’t tried getting in touch with me, either. Probably because of the way I’d left, and although I felt a little bad about snapping at him and running away, I wasn’t about to answer his question.

The cowardly part of me hoped that he’d come to the conclusion that this little arrangement wasn’t what he’d thought it would be, that he didn’t want to continue the affair, and maybe I should just not show up today. But I’d made a deal and I wasn’t going to back out of it.

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