12. Melanie

12

Melanie

T he morning sun shines in through the windows and I roll to check the time. It's early, and I have no idea why I'm not asleep. After sex with Brady at the pool, and again here in this bed, you'd think I'd still be asleep until tomorrow morning.

I turn slowly, not wanting to wake him, and my heart jumps into my throat at the gorgeous man sprawled across the bed, taking up well over half of it. I had no idea how much I liked to snuggle until him, and honestly, it's hard to believe how much I told him last night. I don't regret it. He was an apt listener and offered comfort and support. For a guy who does nothing but joke around, he sure knows when to be quiet and thoughtful.

I should try to go back to sleep, although I know it's futile. I have a lot on my mind with school and needing to find a place to live and the second I close my eyes again, I know my brain is going to start racing. Sticking one foot out and then the other, I try to make a quiet escape. I only manage to lift myself halfway up when a big arm pins me down.

"Where do you think you're going?"

I laugh as he hauls me back down and buries his face in the side of my neck. His breath is warm on my flesh and seeps under my skin, arousing me all over again. How is that possible? I think I've had more sex this weekend than I've had my entire life. That's kind of sad, really.

"I was going to make us coffee."

He positions me under his naked body. "Coffee is overrated."

"I'm not sure I agree with that."

"Okay, how about this…" He takes one nipple into his mouth and sucks gently. "This is better than coffee."

I arc into him and sink deep into my pillow. "I really like coffee. It helps perk me up."

He chuckles against my skin and presses hot, wet kisses to my other nipple. "You seem to be perking up to me." I lift my hips as he rolls the soft blade of his tongue over my puckered nipple.

I rake my hands through his mess of hair. "Coffee warms me up."

"I'll take that challenge." He slides down my body more, his hot lips leaving a wet trail as he sinks lower and lower, until he's between my legs. He slides his hands under my backside and lifts my sex to him, moaning like I'm a buffet and he's about to eat his fill.

The first lick of his tongue against my clit sends shards of heat through me, and I reach up and grab the bed slats, shamelessly wiggling my sex against his face.

"Warm?" he murmurs from deep between my legs.

"Yes, but coffee gives me a boost of serotonin and dopamine. That puts me in a good mood."

"Ah." His grin is wicked as he slides a thick finger inside me. "How lucky that I know another way to boost your mood."

"You do?" I ask, feigning surprise. He dips his head again and treats my clit to his hot tongue as he slides his finger in and out of me until I'm practically vibrating around him. "Oh yes, I think you might be on to something."

His moans thrill me as he moves his head, his hair tickling the inside of my thighs and adding to the sweet sensations. Delicious warmth spreads over my skin as I lose myself in the things he's doing to me. I lift my pelvis, demanding more. He slides another finger inside me, and a hard quiver nearly renders me senseless.

"Like that, Lanie."

I moan, unable to find my words as my jaw goes slack, pleasure taking over every inch of my body. I take deep breaths, my pulse jackhammering in my neck as I begin to fly higher and higher.

"Brady…" He slowly drags the tips of his fingers over the hot bundle of nerves inside me, as he sucks my clit harder. My breath comes in a ragged burst as pleasure erupts between my legs. He growls with satisfaction as my sex tightens and my liquid heat coats his fingers and his mouth. Fingers still inside me, he wrings out every last inch of pleasure until I'm a hot, quivering mess beneath him.

A moment later he climbs up my body, brushing my damp hair from my forehead. There's a new kind of calmness about him. Yes, the hard erection pressing against me lets me know he needs to be inside me, but he's not rushing, not overly eager, like it might be our last time.

No, this time he's sliding into me slowly, offering me one sweet inch at a time. Matching his mood, I reach around him and lightly run my fingers up and down his back. His lips capture mine, and the kiss is slow, tender, leisurely, but no less passionate than before. I moan as I taste my sweetness on his lips.

He breaks the soft kiss and lightly runs his tongue over my bottom lip. Our eyes meet and hold, and the intimacy I spot there, the bevy of emotions he's not blinking away, curls around my shuddering heart. What is happening between us? Or is it just me?

His heart pounds against my chest as he fills me with his cock. Eyes half closed, he moans my name, and as I moan his, something warm and foreign rushes to my heart. I bring his mouth back to mine, overwhelmed at what I'm feeling, and not wanting him to see it—identify it.

I lift my hips, welcoming each glorious thrust. "So good."

"Babe, Jesus," he murmurs into my mouth, those two words broken, slightly fractured. God, is something going on inside him too? I begin to tremble from head to toe, tension building inside both of us as he thickens even more. I whimper, and even though I'm wrung out from that last climax, his cock is coaxing another one from me.

I move against him, grind my clit into his pelvis and the world shuts down around me as I give into the pleasure.

"Fuck, Lanie." He takes a gulping breath as my sex muscles squeeze his cock, and he drives in deep, giving me every inch of him to clench around. He peppers my mouth with kisses as I ride out the waves.

He grunts, my liquid heat searing his cock, and from the way he's clenching down on his jaw, it's clear he's struggling, wanting to hold on until I finish. I put my mouth near his ear.

"Fill me with your cum, Coddy."

"Christ, woman." He grips my hips for leverage, pulls out, and slides back in again. I moan as he fills me, loving the way his cock is pulsing, seconds from climax. He buries his face in my neck, his hot panting breaths warming my flesh. A low, guttural sound crawls out of his throat as he lets go, and fills me with his seed. His head lifts and I silence his growls with a kiss.

Our lips linger and we stay sealed as one, our bodies cooling as he grows flaccid. He pulls out of me, and winces, which pulls a chuckle from me. He rolls off me to stand. "Be right back."

He comes back with a washcloth and my heart misses a beat. Without words, he sits beside me and cleans me up, then disappears again. This time he's gone for a good long time, and I sit up, listening for sounds. Did he leave? I'm about to get up and dress and find out what's going on when he comes back into the room, two cups of coffee in hand.

"Thank you." He hands me one and I take a sip.

He cocks his head, completely comfortable standing beside the bed stark naked. "What do you think?

I give a cat-like stretch, my sigh of pleasure filling the room. "I like what I see."

He laughs. "No, about the coffee. Overrated?"

I take another sip and moan as I set it on the nightstand. I crook my finger and he drops down next to me. I put my arms around him and pull his mouth to mine. Our kiss is soft and tender, much like our lovemaking was.

Lovemaking?

Good God, he really did mess with my serotonin and dopamine levels if I'm calling what we did lovemaking. It was just sex and I can't forget that.

"If I could wake up like that every day, I'd probably never drink another cup again."

A car horn honks in the parking lot, and he sits up a bit straighter. "I supposed I should get out of here before Noah and Brighton get back."

"It's still early, but yeah, I should get up, clean this place, and bus back to my place."

"You're taking the bus?"

"Car. Broken. Remember?" I pick up the coffee again and take a drink. Mmm, hazelnut. "If I'm not careful, I could get addicted."

He puts his hand on my bare leg and runs it up and down. "Are you talking about the coffee, or my cock?"

I glance down and, as if hearing the call, his cock jumps. "Maybe both."

He leans in and kisses me, lingering for an extra moment before saying, "I'll drive you."

"You don't have to do that."

He stands, and I take in his most perfect ass as he goes searching for his clothes. "Where's your car?"

"It's in the driveway back at my place in the city. It wouldn't start and I didn't have the funds to call a tow truck. Last night's tips helped, though. Your friends are good tippers."

He glances at me over one broad shoulder, his brow cocked, a fierceness about him. "They better tip you well or they'll have me to deal with."

"Ooh, my protective hero."

He winks at me. "Want to grab breakfast on the way?"

"You really don't have to drive me and I can whip up something here. I make a mean waffle, and I don't know if you noticed, but there's like three cans of whipped cream in the fridge." I don't want him spending money on me, and I brought groceries when I came. Brighton told me not to, but I like to pay my own way.

"Okay, sounds good." He glances at my cup. "More coffee?"

"Yes, please."

"Why don't you run and shower and I'll drop a pod in the machine."

"Not joining me?"

"Do you want to get out of here today or not?" he teases.

I tap my chin, like I'm debating that, but I do have a lot to do today, and I want to go over those apartments he saved for me to look at. I'm going to have to make some phone calls.

"Fine." I jump from the bed. "Did any of those apartments you searched have open houses today?"

"Yeah, a couple. You want to go look?"

"I might do that later."

"I can take you."

"Aren't you just Mr. Helpful today." Of course, he doesn't need to waste his day driving me around to see places. "I'm sure you have better things to do."

Conflicting emotions flicker in his eyes before he gives a casual shrug and flashes me a grin. "I was going to go over some video footage of our games, but I have a thing for damsels in distress."

I laugh at that, and throw a pillow at him. "I'm anything but, and thank you, but I can do it alone." I do like how he takes his job seriously, even spending weekends going over old games to learn from them. Does that sound like something a jokester does—a guy who wants everyone to think he's nothing but a bucking good time? As I think about that, I search the floor for my clothes.

"Okay." I hear a crack in that one word and lift my head to see him. The second my gaze lands on his, he plasters on a smile, and it's easy to tell it's forced. Dammit, did I hurt his feelings? He steps up to me, playful demeanor back in place, and whacks my ass. "Go, shower." I yelp and dart into the hall. I leave the bathroom door cracked, just in case, and my body is gloriously warm, my brain buzzing with happiness as I turn the water on and climb into the shower. I begin humming and when I catch myself, I laugh. When did I ever hum in the shower?

When was I ever so happy?

I wash quickly, rinse, and step from the shower to find Brady standing right there with a big towel, a hot cup of coffee and an appreciative smile. It's that smile as he looks at me that makes me feel like I'm the most important woman in the world to him, even though I'm not. I take the towel and wrap myself in it, and accept the mug. A girl could get used to this. I don't tell him that. No need to scare him off. "Your turn. I'll get dressed and get to work on breakfast."

He slaps my ass and I yelp as I walk past. Back in the bedroom, I pull on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, and make my way to the living room to pack my books into my backpack. I glance around the big space, hoping someday, when I have a good job and a good paycheck, I can have a place like this to myself. God, why does that thought suddenly feel empty in the pit of my stomach? Spending one glorious weekend with Brady does not change what I want, or how I have always envisioned my future.

I need to get out of this place.

I set my bags by the door and walk to the kitchen, glancing out the window and smiling as guests play in the surf. When I do get a full-time job, I am going to miss this place, and the pool parties at the rooftop bar. Then again, I can always visit. I've become pretty close to Brighton, and I know she'll extend an invite.

I pull the eggs from the fridge and the other ingredients needed from the pantry, as the image of me attending with Brady's arm around me hits like a brick to the face. Whoa, I can't be thinking like that. But I know how I should be thinking. Brady didn't have much of a childhood, always taking care of others, and I know quite a bit about that, so for the next couple of weeks, I simply want us to have some fun and make up for those lost years.

I spot my laptop on the counter, and open it to find a message from Brady with the apartment listings. I scan them and find myself humming again as the shower rains down on Brady and I pull the waffle maker from the cupboard and mix up the batter. I clean some berries and grab a can of whipped cream, and, after deciding Brady and I needed to reclaim our lost childhood, spray it straight into my mouth.

Brady comes around the corner. "Hey, share."

I hold the can up. He has different ideas. He slides an arm around my waist, and pulls me to him, the way I've grown accustomed to and yeah, I really love it. My body bumps his, and I breathe in his warm soapy scent as his lips fall over mine. He moans, and it sends a jolt of need through me.

"Baby, you taste good." He inches back, wipes his finger over my bottom lip and puts it into his mouth. "Yum." He holds me tighter. "Now I want to taste you all over again."

"While I'd like that?—"

"No, I get it. You have things to do, and apartments to check out."

I run my finger over the tip of the cannister, and put my finger into his mouth. His eyes are full of heat and curiosity as he licks it clean. "But that doesn't mean I don't want a rain check."

"Anytime."

I pick up the spatula and give his backside a whack. "Now, go sit while I cook breakfast." He laughs and goes for the coffee. "What time is your conditioning tomorrow?" I ask.

"Afternoon. Few hours. Why? You want to watch? Can't get enough of Coddy?"

I laugh at his playfulness. "No. Just curious."

"Do you work tomorrow?" he asks, his voice less jovial.

"Eleven to six."

"That doesn't leave much time for studying."

I mix the batter until there are no lumps. I have no idea why Brighton and Noah's daughter Camryn always asks for lumps in her pancakes. Strange child.

"No," I respond and cast him a fast glance. "But I think we did pretty well on chapter four."

He wags his eyebrows. "I love chapter four." I laugh at his antics. "Your final exam is when?"

"Two weeks from last Friday. Then I have a week off before the next semester starts. I don't normally do summer semesters, but I really wanted this professor."

"All work and no play."

I point my spatulas at him. "Makes Melanie a great counselor."

"Yeah, it does." I realize the man knows all about hard work. He wouldn't be where he is without it. Instead of sitting, he steps up behind me, pulls my hair to the side and places a tender kiss on the sensitive spot he discovered last night. A fine quiver goes through me. "How many more courses do you have before you finish?"

"One this fall, and one in the winter semester, then I'm done."

"We'll have a big celebration after you finish your exam."

Celebration? The last time I celebrated something was…well, I don't think I've ever celebrated anything in my entire life. "No, we don't have to do that." I don't believe in being frivolous about anything.

"I want to."

Little alarm bells jangle like they always do when someone tells me they want to do something for me. Probably because I'm used to them wanting something in return. "Why?"

"Simply because I want to. How is that for a reason?"

I frown into the batter. "There's always a reason."

"Hey." He puts his arms around my waist and hugs me. "Can't a guy just want to do something for no other reason than he wants to? Maybe it makes me happy just to see you happy."

I sway against his body. "I'm not convinced," I tell him, a garbled laugh catching in my throat.

"Let me convince you."

The idea of celebrating does sound kind of fun. "Brady?—"

He growls into my ear as he nips at me. "Leave it with me."

"I don't want a party or anything big," I warn.

"No party, or anything big, got it." I shake my head and pour the batter into the waffle maker. He moans as the batter begins to bubble. "Dammit, that smells good."

"Are you talking about me or the waffles?" I tease, realizing he's changing the subject.

"Maybe both." He chuckles against my neck just as his phone rings. His mood instantly changes, and he backs up. I steal a quick glance at him as he pulls his phone from his pocket.

"I have to take this."

I nod, and get to work on finishing our breakfast. His mood is somber when he comes back and I can only guess it was a family member looking for something from him.

"These look delicious," he says and I don't press, sensing he doesn't want to talk about it. I turn the conversation to the apartments for rent, and we talk about that as we eat. Once done, we clear the dishes together, and I begin to clean up all evidence of my presence this weekend. I want the place spotless for Brighton when she gets back.

"I'm all set," I tell Brady when I'm done cleaning and putting new sheets on the bed.

We start toward the door, but before we reach it, it bursts open. The second little Camryn sees us both standing there, she throws her arms out. "Uncle Brady!" she yells at the top of her lungs and darts to him.

"Indoor voice, Camryn," Brighton corrects as she rubs her belly.

I grin and still my steps as Noah comes in with the bags. "Hey, you two are back early." Behind them, Mabel, their big Bernese Mountain dog comes barreling in and she too goes straight for Brady. He does have a way with women. He drops down, setting Camryn on his knee, and pats Mabel like she's his best friend in the world. It's so goddamn adorable and sweet, the whipped cream pales in comparison.

"Hey, Mel." Luggage in hand, Noah walks down the hall and sets the bags by the dryer.

"Hey, Noah."

"Camryn has a birthday party to go to," Brighton explains. "She was anxious to get back and get herself all prettied up. I think there's a boy she likes."

"Last I heard, she didn't want anything to do with boys."

Brighton arches a playful brow, because yeah, I get it. Last she heard, I didn't want to have anything to do with boys either. As I shake my head at her, she glances at my bags by the door. "You know you don't have to leave. We have plenty of vacant rooms on the lower level."

"Staying here for the weekend was just what I needed, and I'm not going to take advantage of your generosity. Besides, Brady found some places online that might be suitable and I'm sure the bang fest back home is over by now."

She leans in conspiratorially. "Speaking of bang fest." Brady's head lifts, and heat colors my cheeks when a grin toys with the corner of his mouth.

"Brighton," I warn under my breath.

"Oops," she chuckles when she realizes he heard too. She blinks innocently, which isn't so innocent at all. "Sometimes I too forget to use my indoor voice."

Ohmigod, I'm going to kill her.