Page 6 of Lust

“Maybe you could show some integrity this time. Be less of an embarrassment to your team.”

He snickers, but it somehow sounds like a low, rumbling growl. My dick gets a little twitchy, which is fucked up, and I’ve been up too long to blame it on morning wood. I also notice heat in my chest, intensifying rapidly. I’d say it’s just my anger at him, but it’s stronger than anything I’ve felt in the past. Reminds me of why I got so fucking heated from the jump yesterday.

Brad fills the blender with frozen fruit, protein powder, and peanut butter, then mashes it all together. Meanwhile, I plate my omelet and grab ketchup from the fridge.

When Brad pours his mix into a glass, I set my plate on the counter near him and say, “That was an interesting trick your friend Seth pulled yesterday.”

“What can I say? He’s great at stealing.” As he says that, he shoots me a look like he knows damn well I’m not talking about one of the impressive moves Seth pulled during the game. And Idon’t have to read his mind to know it’s a bluff. Has to be. I saw the way he looked at Seth after he fed me that suggestion.

“That’s not the trick I was talking about. I was referring to hisinduction.” I use it like a hypno pro, based on my limited Google investigation.

Brad’s brows shift closer as he winces. “Induction?”

“Real interesting how fast he calmed me down, don’t you think? Maybe a littletoofast.”

This strikes a nerve. His eyes widen, and he studies my face before glancing into the dining area. Is he worried the guys might hear? That I know something I shouldn’t?

But then a mask of indifference slips into place, and he shrugs. “Seth has a talent for deescalating tense situations.”

“I know what he did to me, Brad,” I spit out, and he doesn’t break eye contact this time, but his expression is frozen in place, not revealing a damn thing.

Finally, he says, “Really? And what is that?”

“He fucking hypnotized me.” I keep my voice low because I can only imagine what the others would think if they heard me.

Brad’s lips curl upward and his eyes close as he chuckles. It quickly turns into a laugh. “Of course. That’s totally what happened. You got him.” He moves closer and whispers, “Maybe cut back on the weed you do before bed. Or really, whatever you’re treating yourself to.”

He’s much more relaxed now, which makes me think I fumbled on the hypnosis theory, but even if it’s something else, I can’t bethatfar off.

“Whatever the hell he did to me, I’ll figure it out, so just let him know that if he tries his mind games again, it’s not gonna be so easy.”

That sobers him up. That impressive jaw of his tightens, but I’ve said my piece, so I turn my attention to my omelet,squeezing ketchup along the side for dip. A bit squirts out, scattering across the plate and—

“Fuck,” I say as I notice a few drops across my tank. Now I’ve just given Brad Henning ammo. Here it comes.

I brace myself for the inevitable smart-ass comment, surePretty Boywill come up. I grab the hem of my shirt, and as I’m pulling it off to rinse it under the sink, Brad grips my wrist.

“Don’t,” he whispers, clinging to me. It’s not a tight grip, but it’s firm, and where he touches, a low, steady jolt of electricity pulses through me, exciting all my nerves. What felt like anger in my chest is now a powerful heat that sweeps through my body.

Our gazes lock, and I see a flash of panic in his wide-eyed expression. I’m fucking frozen in place, this energy coursing through me. My heart races, and my nerves are doing fucking somersaults in my chest.

With his free hand, Brad reaches into his shirt collar and pulls out his necklace, gripping it. The moment he does, he breaks our eye contact, and the sensation coursing through me cuts off.

“Good chat,” he spits out, releasing my wrist. He snatches his smoothie off the counter and dashes off, leaving my body buzzing with life.

By the time he’s in the hall, I’m able to catch my breath, which is when I notice the tent in my pants.

What. The. Hell. Was. That?

3

BRAD

“If you’re notgonna get into why you called this meeting, will you at least stop pacing?” Cody says. “You’re making my anxiety flare up, and it’s been bad enough lately.”

I halt, steadying my breathing. Deep, measured breaths. “Better?” I ask.

“No. You’re making me even more anxious that way. Just keep pacing.”

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