Page 85 of The Breaking Point

Brady dug his fingers into my waist as the kiss intensified. I raked my fingers through his hair, loving the way he responded to my touch. He shivered when I scratched my nails on the nape of his neck.

“You’re playing with fire,” he rasped.

I could feel his erection pressing against my pussy. It only made me want him more. I wanted to feel how hard he was in my hands, feel him pulse against my fingers—

“I need to touch you,” I whispered.

Brady shook his head. “We can’t.”

I rubbed against him, making him grit his teeth. “Please,” I mewled.

Brady kissed me hard one last time and then said, “I’ll take you home.”

I could tell he wasn’t going to change his mind. I sighed and awkwardly returned to the passenger seat. I blushed when I realized that my dress had been pulled so high that Brady probably saw that I wasn’t wearing any panties.

The three blocks to my parents’ seemed like three thousand miles. It didn’t help that I was so horny I felt like I was going to burst. I could see Brady’s erection pressing against his pants. Weren’t blue balls painful? I didn’t understand how he could say no when his body was clearly desperate to say yes.

“Have a good night, Grace,” said Brady. He wouldn’t even look at me now.

“Oh, I will. With my vibrator.” I blew him a kiss as I got out of the car.

I heard Brady groan and say, “Damn, you’re evil,” making me laugh like a crazy woman.

BRADY

SEVEN YEARS AGO

“Can you pick me up?” Grace asked.

Grace had called me in the middle of trying to finish a paper for my English class. I’d been so surprised that she’d called me that I’d picked up after the first ring.

“Can’t Ben get you? I’m writing a paper,” I said.

“I can’t get ahold of him. And I can’t call my parents.”

“What about your friend? Didn’t she drive you?”

I knew Grace’s friend Meredith was sixteen and already had her license. Meredith often came to the house to pick up Grace; she’d also flirt with me even though I knew she had a boyfriend.

“Meredith had to go home because she got sick.” Grace paused. “And the other kids brought beer with them. I think they’re drunk. So I don’t want to ride with them.”

I sighed. Well, I already knew I’d be pulling an all-nighter on this stupid essay onThe Scarlet Letter.“Okay, fine. I’ll come get you. And do not get in the car with any of those other people.”

I hated drunk drivers. Mom had driven drunk more times than I could remember and had gotten plenty of DUIs. Every time I heard about her getting arrested for drinking and driving, I almost wished she would’ve gotten somebody else hurt. Then maybe she’d get a wake-up call to fix her life.

Now that I was seventeen, though, I hadn’t had much contact with Mom. It wasn’t worth the drama. When I’d been younger, I’d hoped that she’d get her life together so I could go back home.

Every year, from ages six to ten, I’d wish on my birthday that Mom would stop drinking.

By age eleven, when she’d left her millionth rehab after only three days after I’d begged her to go, I’d realized that she was never going to change.

Then, when I’d gotten older and had started earning money at part-time jobs, she’d hit me up for cash. Sometimes she’d managed to guilt-trip me into giving her a twenty here and there. Usually, that was when she was homeless and starving.

I’d driven to the outskirts of the city to find her when I’d only had my learner’s permit. But I couldn’t tell Mr. and Mrs. Dallas what I was doing.

I found Mom outside an abandoned house with a bunch of other homeless people. A few were shooting up heroin right out in the open.

“Baby!” Mom’s eyes lit up when she saw me. “You made it. Let me introduce you to my friends.”

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