Page 21 of Sticking Around

I lean forward and give him a soft kiss, wanting to soften his pain. “You did good for yourself, Brady. I bet they’re all proud of you.”

He doesn’t agree, instead he answers with, “It’s good I can help them all out.”

He flicks the pages absently, a frown on his face like he’s remembering something hard from his past. As I watch, it hits me. He takes care of his family back home—financially. He’s still responsible for them. That’s why he tensed up when I harshly told him he wasn’t responsible for that guy on the beach. I mean, I guess it’s okay to feel responsible for your family, especially when times are hard, which they seem to be in Newfoundland. Why then, do I think there is more going on here?

I’m about to ask, but in the blink of an eye, his playful demeanor returns, disguising the emotions he doesn’t want me to see. “Are you ready to be quizzed, little Lanie?”

I resist the urge to press. He’s done with this conversation, and is making it clear he wants to move on. “Bring it,” I say and lean back on the sofa.

He reads a paragraph, and starts listing off medical conditions. “Okay, what’s the diagnosis for that?” he asks.

I quickly blurt out the answer. “Bipolar.”

“Very good.” He reads the next paragraph.

“Wait, what’s my reward? I got it right.”

“So, you did.”

He sets the book down, drops to his knees and puts his hand behind my head. He pulls my mouth to his as he leans in and gives me a deep, hard kiss that steals my breath. After he breaks it, he sits back on the coffee table and I take a few panting breaths.

“Okay, Brady, how the heck am I supposed to think after that?”

He winks at me. “That’s just going to make it more challenging, and I know you’re not afraid of a challenge.”

I fan my hand in front of my face. “What makes you say that?”

“You just told me you started work at fifteen, and I see how hard you work at the resort and you’re doing your master’s degree at the same time. That’s challenging and you have all my respect, babe.”

My heart soars. I like that he sees that in me, and respects what I’m doing. “Okay, next question.” Under my breath I murmur, “Can’t wait to see what my reward is when I get it right.”

He wags his brows and adjusts the bulge in his shorts. “I’m not going to make this easy on you.”

“I think it’s going to be hard for both of us.”

He laughs and asks me another question. I get it right, and pucker my lips. He doesn’t go for them, however. Nope, He drops to his knees, puts his hands on my sides, and lightly rubs my nipples through my dress.

“God, Brady, really?”

“Hard,” he reminds me and I let my head fall back as a groan crawls out of my throat.

“Yes, hard,” I agree. He leans in and presses his mouth to one nipple through the fabric of my dress. His hot breath seeps through the thin material and washes over my nipple. He inches back, and I glance down at the damp spot he left behind. “You’re getting me wet.” He chuckles and that’s when I realize what I said. I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

He puts his hands on my thighs. “You’re telling me you’re not getting wet.”

“No, I’m not telling you that.”

He laughs and sits back on the coffee table, leaving me a quivering mess on the sofa. He flips the page, and looking completely unaffected he reads the next question. I almost don’t answer correctly. The man is killing me here. But because I’m an overachiever and hate to be wrong, I give the correct answer, and let’s face it, I really want to see what my reward is.

“Very good, Lanie.”

He sinks back to the floor, and his big, warm hands slide up my thighs and under my sundress. I take a gulping breath and widen my legs to give him better access to the needy spot that wants his attention.

“Let’s see if you were telling me the truth.”

I sink back into the sofa. “I always tell the truth,” I murmur as he tugs my panties to the side and lightly runs his finger over my hot sex. “Brady…”

“Mmm, so nice and wet for me. I’m going to have to have a taste, Lanie.”

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