Page 31 of Sticking Around

Does Brady Fisher hide his emotions behind a shield of sarcasm and jokes? I’m not sure. But I do know that beneath the layers, there’s real softness there, and that he’s way more in control of himself and his life here in Boston than he lets on. Honestly, the man is a conundrum, one for the textbooks, for sure.

“I guess we’re different like that,” he murmurs.

“We might have more in common than you think.”

“That’s right, we both have roommates who fuck like bunnies.” His laugh is light, and it eases some of the tension inside me.

“Right. Mine bangs like bricks in a dryer,” I agree, even though I’m talking about our upbringing. Sure, he was raised in Newfoundland without a father and a needy family. I was raised here in Boston with a mother and father, but hell, they were needy too. How would he know that? I totally shut down when he straight up asked who didn’t keep their promises to me. I owe him an apology. Right now, however, I think there’s something else he might want from me—and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want it too.

“What was that you said about fucking like bunnies?” I ask coyly, and step away from him, backing up until I’m in the dark shadows.

“I don’t think we can hold it against them. If we had a place together, we’d fuck like bunnies and drive everyone out, too.”

The rooftop goes silent, his words hovering in the air as I envision the two of us cohabitating. Even though everything about it goes against what I want, a place of my own, and no commitment. Heck, I know people only want me when they want something from me. Yet, despite all that, the idea doesn’t upset me. In fact, it sort of excites me.

He’s not suggesting you get a place together, Melanie, so get it together.

“Hey, where did you go?” he asks playfully, nothing in his voice to suggest he wanted to cohabitate. Dammit, what is wrong with me.

“Marco…”

11

Brady

Panting, I press my forehead to Lanie’s, and stare at her pretty face beneath the moonlight. I fucked her twice today, and dammit, my dick is still inside her, snug and warm after the perfect orgasm and I already want her again.

“I’ve never had sex on one of these lounge chairs before,” she murmurs, and I shift to keep the bulk of my weight off her.

“Glad to hear that.”

“Now who’s the one who sounds jealous,” she teases.

I laugh. “I’m surprised we didn’t break the damn thing.” I slowly inch out of her, and miss her warmth as I stand. We’d haphazardly tossed our clothes everywhere when we stripped and jumped into the pool just before I ravished her. Now she crosses her arms as I reach for the pool side towel and wrap her in one, using the other to wipe between her legs. She quivers as I gently clean her up.

Once done, we both dress. Instead of leaving and locking up, she sinks back into the lounge chair, zero urgency about her even though I know she’s tired. Unable to help myself, I bend and kiss her.

“Thank you,” she whispers, her palm cupping my face and I lean into her touch.

As my insides quiver, fearing I might be getting in deep with this woman, I blow her off with a joke. “There you go thanking me again.”

She goes quiet, contemplative, and I’m about to ask what’s on her mind when she speaks.

“I owe you an apology.”

“Are you kidding me? The sex was phenomenal. You don’t owe me an apology for anything and I’m the one who owes you a thank you for getting naked with me.”

She sits up, and I put my legs on either side of the chair and drop into it, facing her. She blinks several times and I sense a new kind of vulnerability, a nervousness about her. My throat constricts as I wait for her to elaborate.

She finally breaks the quiet, her body tensing. “No, Brady. I owe you an apology for this afternoon. You asked me a serious question, and I brushed you off. That wasn’t right of me.” I draw in a breath as she runs her fingers up and down my arm, the seriousness about her sending warning messages to my brain. “I just don’t like to talk about my past.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.” She glances up, and I follow her gaze, staring at the stars twinkling overhead. “I think I might want to.”

Her body begins to shake and I don’t think it’s from the night air. I move closer and put my hands on her legs as she crosses them. “Okay.”

“You and me,” she begins. “We’re not so different. I used to think we were complete opposites, but not so much anymore.”

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